Adult ADHD Blog

Archives: June 2009

Commitment Phobia: Is It an Adult ADHD Phenomenon?

For people with attention deficit disorder, breaking patterns is as hard as stopping a freight train moving at high speed.

After Mr. Ph.D.'s rejection I had to lick my wounds and get up again.

There have been countless times when I've wanted to give up on love, and yet I can't. In a city like New York, the potential for love is always in the air. Everywhere I go, I see lovey-dovey couples, and I am reminded that the last three men who I fell for did not feel the same way about me.

The latest obsession is the Chef, a short guy with a big macho attitude. Over wine one evening I said that I could never be friends with men whom I am attracted to, and he said, “Well, we are not dating, we are friends."

I asked the Chef if he ever thought about settling down—after all, he is 45. What happened to the cabin or apartment he wanted to buy? He said it was a passing fancy, just like I was. He said he was too wrapped up with work.

I come up with excuses for his not being ready, but maybe I should accept that he’s not interested. Thing is, I feel indebted to him. The Chef helped me out during the worst of times. He helped me move the dozens of bags up the fifth-floor Spanish Harlem walk-up. He helped comfort me after the botched swimming race.

I wonder if I am like Patty Hearst suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, where one gets attached to his or her captors. In return he's gotten a female companion at night. I've not gone to fourth base, but with all that's happened I now feel used. I want to be treated well, to not feel second rate.

ADHD and Depression Downspiraling

Deep down I knew that even if I got a job tomorrow, a decent job in the industry I love, I would not remain happy. I would fall back into being dissatisfied and miserable. Along with ADHD, there came the evil stepsisters, depression and anxiety.

(Warning: long post ahead)

I'm sorry I've been incommunicado in the past week and the blog posts have been slow in coming.

Life had taken yet another turn, and lately it has been hard to keep this blog upbeat. I had been focused — haha funny word for an ADHDer — on training for this swim around the Island of Manhattan.

The big swim had been in the works since November, and then two hours into the race we were pulled because of navigational issues. I laugh in retrospect. The greatest challenge that adults with attention deficit disorder face is not ability nor talent, but focus and keeping on track. It almost seems like a cruel joke that, in the end, what did us in were navigational issues, and, perhaps, lack of self-confidence.

I never imagined that we would not finish the race, and it feels like a personal blow for a number of reasons. Life in ADHD land is filled with disappointments, knowing that you have the ability, the passion, and energy, and yet not being able to make it into reality, and, even worse, being misunderstood by others.

Once in a blue moon you get lucky and partner with someone who is your arch opposite and can keep you on task, but more often than not you flounder. Without an organizational Sherpa, one is essentially screwed. We were swimming so well until we reached Hells Gate and swam into a tide that had turned against us. Although the kayakers and the boater who were there to serve as our compass were a disappointment, in the end it was avoidable.

I was asked recently if it is better to know or not know about ADHD — to have been diagnosed in adulthood or not — and my answer is I'd rather not have known. When I didn't know I still had my self-confidence. Now, more than ever, I struggle to believe that there is much hope in myself and in this crazy world I live in.

Yesterday I talked with the father and, for the first time, told someone that I was starting to question whether or not there is a God. Why would I question it, he asked. “Because if there were a God he'd see that I'd suffered enough and throw me a bone. At the very least, he would have let me finish this marathon swim and earn a scrap of self-confidence.” You're doing okay, the father said.

"I have no job, no home of my own, no man, I don't have a boyfriend, I have ADD and can't even get organized enough to conduct a normal job search, and now a swim that I'd put my heart and soul into failed," I said. What made it worse was I received an email from Mr. Ph.D., who finished the race, asking me how our team did. Why can't he just check the race results, rather than stabbing me and moving the knife around?

I'm starting to wonder if I should go to a fortune teller who can tell me how to acquire better luck. This year seems to be filled with failures, disappointments, and, in the end, bitterness. The father told me to come home for a few days, so we could talk and regroup. He fears that I might be falling into the abyss again.

I spent the evening and night again with Dylan, the friend with benefits guy. He's made it clear that I'm just a friend and we're not dating, but he likes me and is obviously attracted. We had margaritas and chips, and I started crying at the restaurant, the tears flowing like a faucet on a steady. "I consider not finishing anything a failure," I said, repeatedly.

A fellow teammate had a much more Zen outlook on the race, and said that the goal was to swim, have fun, and stay healthy — and we achieved all of those things. I see this race as a slap in the face. The reality is I spent $800 and a lot of heart and soul, and in the end I spent $800 to swim 45 minutes and we were pink-slipped in the water.

Poor Dylan, he wasn't entirely sure what to do. We went back to his place where I sat on the couch with my face in my palms. I really wanted to do something crazy, like smoke a cigarette or drink a bottle of Bacardi. I didn't want to play Wii, I didn't want to watch a flick, I didn't want to live anymore. The tears wouldn't stop, like blood from a deep wound. The anger churned like a tsunami, its roots unknown.

What would make Jane happy? Dylan asked. I had gotten the same question from the sister a few days ago. I told her a secret. I said deep down I knew that even if I got a job tomorrow, a decent job in the industry I love, I would not remain happy. I would fall back into being dissatisfied and miserable. Along with ADHD, there came depression and anxiety, the evil stepsisters that came with the family.

I blew my nose and the tears stopped. "I want to go out for a ride," I said. The friend with benefits had a motorcycle, a red BMW, and he said, "Okay, come on."

We retrieved it from the garage, put on jackets and helmets, and took a spin along the FDR drive and West Side Highway. It was freeing feeling the cool air, and there was the rush of the wind. I hung on tight, tighter than ever, because I so feared that I'd let go. I didn't trust myself.

Down the highways I could see the Hudson and East Rivers, and could feel the sting of the tears again. It was a reminder of the latest failed attempt, but I told the friend, "Hey, it's more fun to ride around rivers than swim in them." He laughed when he heard me laugh. It was his reward.

Tantrums and Apologies

As an adult with attention deficit disorder (ADHD), I find it hard to gain control of my emotions when things don't go my way.

I threw yet another temper tantrum today. Lately the emotions of being unemployed and living in ADHD-driven uncertainty have gotten the best of me.

I have tried to address the ongoing symptoms of attention deficit and continue to work on my makeshift rehab plan. But I’ve had enough of the bullshit and red tape from the Buddhaman’s practice. His secretary told me they called and faxed an emergency prescription a dozen times, but each time I called they were clueless: "Jane who? We didn't get anything for a Jane."

How frustrating. I decided to hell with it. I'm going to be shameless and call my friend, the 70-something-year-old MD who previously gave me a prescription for Adderall, to ask for help. Lately, that's been the theme of my life.

I’ve become good friends with the fellow ADHD woman I met in D.C. We've been keeping in touch by phone and swapping dating tales.

The other night I went out with a Middle Eastern guy, a scientist of some sort who spends his day studying specimens under a microscope. He had a heavy accent that I couldn't understand and my mind started drifting. He talked so fast he might as well have been speaking in his native Arabic. I kept saying, "pardon," and eventually gave up and focused on my nicoise salad and white wine. But he kept on chatting about God knows what.

I get depressed at times because I think that if I get bored, testy, and impulsive, I'm never going to get past second base with anyone. In the music industry there are one-hit wonders. In the ADD dating world I feel like a three-date wonder. Three strikes and I’m out.

Why are men interested in committing to all these other women and I continue to be that girl everyone just wants to take to dinner and sleep with. Is it ADD or is it me?

When I was in D.C., I purchased a timer. I can’t take it seriously though and find myself setting and resetting it. I feel as if the only thing that would get me truly moving is a timer with a bomb—someone or some thing to light the fire under me.

And this is why after more than six months I remain in layoff land. I can’t conduct a strategic job search. At times I want to tear out my hair and burst into tears. Who could love or even like someone like me? I wonder.

Keys to Breaking the Patterns of ADHD

Getting unstuck from habits may help adults with attention deficit disorder move past disappointment, paving the way to healthier beginnings.

A pattern is so hard to kill. For the adult who has been diagnosed with ADHD, it is like the cockroach that refuses to die. For nearly three years, I have gone for bad boys, the people who are ambivalent and indifferent. Like Mr. Ph.D., the “friends and nothing more” swim buddy. (I still kick myself for what feels like a lost opportunity.)

Now I look to the Chef, a fellow in his mid 40s, who dated a girl for seven years and was engaged to her for a whopping two weeks.

Things were fine until a week ago, when I basically refused to have sex with him. I said I was flattered but only wanted to go the next step if there was more commitment. "I respect you Jane," said the Chef. Since then he's been lukewarm and a bit insulting. Men need to be trained, but I don't have the time for it.

With the stress and uncertainty of love, life, career, my cold and cough is back again. I find it odd that this always happens before a big swim. Although I've tried to correct this rather self-defeating behavior, it seems impossible. It is as if low self-esteem and anxieties intersect and create a physical illness.

On a positive note, I met up with Lisa, a fellow adult ADHDer, on a recent trip to D.C. Lisa and I first met a year ago when I chatted with her about an article I was writing about ADHD. She is about 20 years older than me, and she looks like Sarah Palin. I seem to get along with 50-something-year-old women. They are open minded and make solid friends for ADDers: a hybrid of friend, mother, and mentor. I was impressed with her Cathedral-expansive home. I wondered if she’d acquired it from one or both of her divorces. The first husband sounded like a pothead, and the second husband sounded like a type A person who couldn’t deal with her being late.

Lisa is kind and quite fair. She let me stay over, gave me breakfast. We took a dip in the Jacuzzi and went to the Corcoran Gallery, where they featured Maya Lin’s latest exhibits. Lin is a genius and lucky that she found fame so early in her life.

Staying with Lisa was refreshing. Her ever-expanding ADHD library and tools are equally impressive, and all over are these timers, and signs—colorful laminated signs—identifying the various zones of the McHome (pantry, playroom, restroom, and so on).

She spent a lot of time talking about the struggle to find men, and I couldn’t help wondering: Have the ADHD symptoms made her prone to divorce? Will I also struggle to hold on to a single healthy relationship? I think a lot about what went wrong, why I always fail to catch the wave or the cues of a relationship when there is the most potential.

Despite the recent string of failed friendships and relationships, there is something promising about the Chef. The ADHD adult loves the new kid on the block.

But I'm also worried. He has so many female friends, is close to 50 and never been married, and needs to have a packed social calendar. I mean, what is so bad about being alone?

The mind is a lonely place to be, and, yet, I don't fear it as much as I once did.

Slowing Down with Adult Attention-Deficit

Unemployment is a long, lonely journey. I'm sad, and desperate now for a job where my talents can be used.

I woke up depressed this morning. As one of the roommates observed, "You sound sad."

I’m desperate for a satisfying career, and many times I wonder if God is testing me. You keep going because you hope someone will find you, and indeed there are warm pockets in the water, moments when I feel hope. It could be a talk with a friend, a word of encouragement from a family member, a pipedream.

Mostly there are many moments when I feel like I’m going to sink. Every day is a struggle for sanity, laughter, and medication.

My latest conflict occurred with Dr. Y, my newest doctor at the Buddhaman's practice. I was fined $250 for canceling an appointment at the eleventh hour about two months ago. The ADHD stimulant Adderall has run dry, and I called to ask for a refill. The secretary said that Dr. Y wanted the money in cash, please.

"I'm sorry, but can't she make one exception," I asked. This problem was new to me. Other doctors had called a day earlier to remind me of an appointment.

Dr. Y just didn’t do that. "$250 is a lot of money," I said. The secretary heard the sadness in my voice. "Okay, I'm going to help you," she said.

Kindness emanates from the cracks of the sidewalks in this Sodom and Gomorrah. I saw it in the bus driver who stopped in front of Metropolitan Hospital for a drunken passenger, who was probably homeless. He coaxed the man to get off at that stop.

"If I keep going and drop you off down the road, you're going to be in real trouble man." The man finally got off and the driver exhaled a sigh of relief. Kindness has nothing to do with religion.

Simple pleasures surface from a rooftop dinner with the roommates and the boy. We live on food stamps, unemployment claims, and hope.

But from the roof, I see the bright flash of sun, a glimpse of the Hudson, the top of the skyline, and a deep blue sky. And I’m reminded that we are tiny in the scope of things, and there are greater problems than what is at hand.