Adult ADHD Blog

Archives: November 2009

ADHD, Anxiety, and Impending Birthdays

The fear is bigger than my birthday, the economy, and ADHD. This about reining in my mind so that it doesn't wander, so I can stay focused enough to survive.

The sister came to visit the other day. She sees the apartment that I am subletting and is clearly impressed. On the surface, the place looks great. Hey, it's a high-rise and has a doorman. "How much are you paying for this?" she asks. "Enough," I tell her, but I'm getting a bargain because it's a friend of a friend. The apartment is something from the pages of Architectural Digest, and for years it's been neglected, collecting dust, mold, and the technology is outdated, no place for a DVD plug in the television, which is lost in the VCR days. If you stand far away, you can't see the holes, but when you move closer, you realize that some things are not only dirty, but broken beyond repair.

Lately I have transformed into the Critic -- unconsciously finding holes in myself, in life, in the boyfriend, in the family, in the hustle and bustle and rat race of daily life that defines Gotham. Around the corner, too, is the birthday, a reminder that time only marches forward. It has been almost a year since the layoff, and now there is always the fear that it will happen again. This is bigger than the economy; this is about reining in my mind so that it doesn't wander, so I can stay focused enough to survive. This is an added challenge along with everything else, and to this day, a secret that I carry. So far, the bosses haven't seen the holes. Sure, there was the day I missed a meeting, the day that I totally forgot to follow up on the expenses that are owed to me, but overall distance shields them from the day to day ADHD reality. Why is it that every few days the desk is once again buried in paper? I want to burn it all.

Perhaps the biggest emotional battle lies with The Boyfriend who comes on the weekends. Overall he is wonderful, physically fit, over six feet tall, a professional with a promise of a stable future. We have fun when I am not afraid. Take note of the latter. Despite all of this, unhappiness hangs over like a gray cloud that spells "storm." The root of the problem is an overall restlessness and unhappiness when he comes and goes, and the phrase "plug and play" keeps popping up. I think back to the mother who left me as a teenager; she made many promises, all of which were unfulfilled, and she was never there for me at major milestones, such as graduation. I have said that I could forgive, but maybe I can't. Maybe I hold on to resentment in the same way an alcoholic does alcohol or an overeater does food. It's easier to stick with what we know, sometimes.

My response to uncertainty and fear of abandonment is building a wall and pushing people away. I don't need it or want it. I also can't help it. Every few weeks and increasingly so, I am angry at the boyfriend for leaving me here, leaving me to wait for his return, his text, his phone call. I feel like I am being more of a woman if I wait. I keep reminding myself: patience, patience. I will swallow my emotions and feelings, and then, like a Jack in the Box, it pops out again and I will whine and complain and push him away. "That's okay," "Forget it," "Whatever," "Nevermind." This is the vocabulary of someone who has clearly been rejected and hurt, and does not want to feel the sting of rejection again.

Ultimately, I know that fear will ruin things, but I can't help it and I'm not sure how to solve it so I sit with it on a bench called "fear, anxiety, and resentment," knowing very well that no amount of money, no job title and no home or even, yes, no man will slay this demon. All I can do is wait until it passes.

A Rare Moment: Feeling Non-ADHD, for a Day

On days like this, my conversations are more about listening than having the ADHD panic of making sense of the tornado of words and thoughts and tasks and grasping onto whatever I can hold onto.

There was a recent day when I could see things so clearly, it was as if I had a glimpse into the world of a normal, non-ADHD person who can focus on one thing at a time and knock things off the To-Do list like an expert marksman.

The slant of sun was a fluke. I had taken the Adderall like I've been doing on weekdays, but I attribute it to something much greater, like a touch of synpathy from God or a higher up who says, "Hey, we'll cut her some slack today." On that day, I knocked off two major worked-related assignments, and had time to take the stairs instead of the elevator, and eat a leisurely lunch. Most importantly, I was productive, and that is what matters in this BlackBerry, CrackBerry, and 24/7 world. These days feel like bliss compared to all else, and they are rare, kind of like swimming laps and feeling zen. On days like this, I don't get stressed when I talk with the boyfriend, and my conversations are more about listening than having the panic of making sense of the tornado of words and thoughts and tasks and grasping onto whatever I can hold onto. On the rare day of focus, I remind myself that that there is a God.

Lately, the brain and thoughts have gone beserk again, and I am left feeling tired and spinning wheels and shuffling and reshuffling paper like a child who begins building a sandcastle only to have a wave knock it over again. Yes, it is that frustrating. The outsider sees a person who looks pissed and frustrated, and stays far at bay, and I feel totally misunderstood.

The job, while a blessing in a poor economy, remains a struggle. After 14 years in my working life, though, this is no longer a surprise. The He-Boss has a tendency to read e-mails and correspondence at the last minute, and to change his mind at the drop of a hat. He seems prone to swift mood changes based on the level of stress. I can relate in an odd way, only I don't have the luxury of a stable of secretaries and an entourage of staff who are equally as frustrated. The other night, he tapped me at day's end and said that it was time to go over a piece of writing that I'd e-mailed at least two days before. There was a long litany of complaints about the assignment, and I kept thinking, "Why didn't you give this to me earlier? Why is it so last minute?"

I left close to 8 p.m. that night and everything was literally and figuratively dark. I did not even notice the crowds that I was walking into, nor how crowded the bus was. The lump of frustration just seemed to multiply and get bigger and bigger. I called up the boyfriend angry at the world, but really the white hot anger was pointed at myself. I hungered for the day when everything just came together, for a bit of sympathy. By the time I got home into the high-rise apartment, I flopped on the bed and let out an exhale. The bed should have been an oasis from the runaway thoughts, the missed work meeting, and the He-Boss who fired away complaints, but it wasn't. Why hold it in anymore? I let the tears flow like a running faucet, and let it all out.