ADDiva Blog

Confessions of an ADDiva

Archives: August 2009

Living with ADD Beyond Tips and Tricks

How do I move from "dealing with" ADD to "living with" ADD and thriving as a result of ADD?

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Does ADD define me?

Of course not!
That’s a silly question!
Everyone knows that ADD is only one small part of me.
I am MORE than my ADD.
Right?

Then why are there websites and podcasts and books and organizers and therapists and, yes, ADHD coaches, who are eager to help me “deal with” my ADHD? They have tips and tricks and advice oozing from every pore and every page.

“Break the big job into smaller ones.”
“Begin with the end in mind.”
“Stop working on the computer two hours before bedtime.”

I’ve spent a lifetime memorizing these and hundreds of other helpful tips and tricks. I have schedulers and timers and colored folders and project management software. I’ve even recommended them to my clients. I know HOW to get organized, be on time, deliver on my promises. Yet I’ve mastered none of them. And frankly, I’m tired of trying.

I can’t shake the feeling that the world ‘out there’ believes that the operative word in Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder is “deficit.” That’s awfully close to “deficient.” And a long way from “fulfilled,” which is the adjective I’ve chosen to describe the rest of my life.

I unconsciously fall into it, this sense of being “less than” those perplexing folks whose neurotransmitters play together nicely. And I am usually unaware that I have clicked into my compensatory mode, either tap dancing to cover my deficits or applying a thick layer of my most effective tips and tricks. I can fake being “normal” for a while, but I have no endurance. The facade melts and I am exposed.

Now that I’m older, I don’t cringe nearly as often as I once did when I was “outed” as an ADDiva. But I do take a look at my patterns. With as much “work” as I’ve done with therapists, coaches, books and all the rest, I am dismayed to find that sometimes my gut response is still shame, followed by an urgent need to “try harder.” Even deeper though, is my realization that I am simply exhausted by the effort. It’s not worth it any more. To my body, my psyche, my energy.

Surely, surely, I can release the growling undercurrent that monitors my ADD-ish behaviors. Or at least notice it before it controls my thoughts and actions. When I’m on my deathbed, I don’t want my last words to be: “Well, I was almost linear!”

Of COURSE there is more to life than dealing with ADD. Everyone knows that. It’s the popular answer, ADD wisdom du jour. But honestly, how much of our lives ARE spent with ADD at the helm? If I am truthful, 100 percent. ADD isn’t a mask I can take off at night. I am not “more” than my ADD. I am ADD and ADD is I. Or perhaps ADD R Me.

So the harder question is: how do I move from “dealing with” ADD to “living with” ADD and thriving as a result of ADD? How do I look ADD in the eye, acknowledge its breath and depth and treat it as a respected ally instead of a pesky nuisance to be shooed away and thwarted at every turn?

I don’t have the answer. This inquiry deserves more than a flippant remark or a cliched retort. My suspicion is that each of us will make peace (and friends) with our ADD with as much variety and creativity as our wild-child brains allow.

So I invite you into the question. How do YOU go deeper, beyond the “let’s fix it” stage. How do you put your arm around ADD and walk down the road with it, knowing that there is one absolute certainty: that ADD will never desert you. It is yours (and you) for as long as you live. How do you move from “endurance” to “fulfillment” starting right now?

Going Green, ADD Style

I just love it when something works for me and my ADD. I love it even more when it also helps the environment.

I have a trunk full of reusable grocery bags. They make me feel so environmentally conscious -- until I get to the checkout line and remember that they are...still in the trunk of my car.

Why can’t I remember to bring them IN to the grocery store? (Oh yeah. ADD.) Once, when there was no one in line behind me, I actually excused myself and ran outside to get them. Of course, by the time I returned, six people were glaring at me, waiting impatiently to check out. Won’t do that again.

But what’s the point of having reusable bags if I don’t, eh, USE them?

A good friend of mine unwittingly solved my ADD-ish problem with her Christmas gift last year. She gave me a ChicoBag. I love these little critters!

ChicoBags are fat little bundles that expand to full size grocery bags. Made of polyester, these mighty little sacks can hold up to 25 pounds of groceries. (The larger size holds 40 pounds!)

Each one has a self-fabric storage sack sewn into the bottom seam (so ADD folks like me never lose it). And best of all, the ChicoBag has a carabiner (hook) so it attaches to your purse, belt loop, notebook, shopping list, you name it! I love the bright colors, too. Some of the newest ChicoBags are made of 99 percent recycled materials -- even better for the environment!

I bought several more at the ChicoBag website for $5 each. What a bargain! And if you buy five, the company throws in the fifth one for free.

I attached three ChicoBags to my purse on an unused key ring. I know I look a bit like a pack animal with my pink, purple and green bags, but hey -- I’m using them! Sometimes, I even use them at the hardware store or department store, too.

It’s a perfect ADD tool:
A. There are no parts to lose.
B. The little hook lets me take it with me everywhere.
C. It comes in bright colors so it doesn’t get lost in my piles.
D. It’s cheap and good quality.

I just love it when something works for me and my ADD. I love it even more when it also helps the environment.

Viva Green ADDiva!

What ADDers Can Learn from a Doggie Stroller

Cosmo's doggie stroller reminds me that we ADD folks also need a little boost when we get tired halfway through doing the dishes or organizing our closets.

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"Do dogs really need their own stroller?"

I mulled this question for several weeks before I finally plunked down my credit card on the dog stroller website and bought a few months (or years) of freedom for Cosmo, my 14-year-old Sheltie.

Like any living being that is the equivalent of 85 in human years, Cosmo has a few aches and pains: a bad back, arthritic shoulder, painful hips. He sleeps most of the day and night. But he still loves his walks. When I lace up my walking shoes, he perks up and trots out to the garage to be harnessed into his leash.

Cosmo, and his younger counterpart Boomer, launch our walks with great enthusiasm, nosing around mailboxes, checking out the latest deer tracks. But on the way home, Cosmo’s optimism is overshadowed by his physical ailments. He slows down, limping with each step.

A couple of times, I tried to carry him home, but 40 wiggly pounds gets heavy after a couple of blocks. I left him at home, which broke his heart. The stroller was my last hope, even though I was a bit embarrassed to order it –- after all, this is a DOG we’re talking about. (OK, I also cook for my dogs, but that’s another story.)

That doggie stroller works beautifully, though. I push it empty on the first leg of our journey and when Cosmo tires, I lift him gently into the stroller and push it "with dog" the rest of the way.

That stroller reminds me that we ADD folks also need a little boost when we get tired halfway through doing the dishes or organizing our closets. Our initial optimism and enthusiasm can take a nosedive. Our brains poop out and our bodies follow suit.

Like Cosmo, we have a few aches and pains going on in our ADD brains. We need the equivalent of a doggie stroller to get us back on track. Choosing the right kind of boost is important.

Sometimes we simply need to take our next dose of ADHD medication. Sometimes it’s better to call our therapist or a good friend, or to make an appointment for a neurofeedback session. Like Cosmo’s doggie stroller, we need to tailor our support specifically to meet our ADHD needs.

And then we need to accept that assistance with grace and appreciation. None of this "no, no thanks, I can do it myself" kind of stuff. We know better. We won’t do it ourselves. We’ll stay off track. And then feel bad about ourselves. Again. Which makes it even harder to get back ON track. Sometime we never get back...

So just in case you’re waiting for it, here’s permission to ask for what you need. Hire an ADHD coach or a professional organizer. Join an ADHD support group -- online or in person. Sign up for reminders from an appointments-online website. Whatever you need most, make it happen. Then, be grateful for the boost it gives you to make it all the way to DONE -- the most beautiful word in the ADHD language!

ADD and the Case of the Missing Grapes

Then it hit me: I had actually lost my grapes! I had to ask: Is that like losing your marbles? Is there ADD medication you can take for losing your grapes?

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I haven’t killed any grapevines this year...yet.

Actually, the two vines that survived Japanese beetles, grape fungus, and complete neglect look pretty good -- probably because I did my duty and pruned them in February (the actual recommended month for pruning -- a triumph for any ADD adult!). And I threw a bunch of well-composted fertilizer (aka chicken poop) around the roots. Voila! They were happy little vines.

In June, I noticed several small clumps of hard green nubbins that supposedly would ripen into luscious grapes. Not in my garden; for five years, they have shriveled and fallen to the ground. Or the birds and squirrels have eaten them. I’ve never tasted a single grape from my “vineyard.”

Several weeks later, the darned things got plump. Then, they started changing color. My gosh; grapes were actually being born! Every day I checked on them; I shooed away the hungry beetles and hung a little bird netting over them.

Did you know that all grapes don’t ripen at the same time? Within the same bunch, there were several deep purple grapes ready to eat, a few more grapes that barely blushed pink, and a majority of stubborn green grapes that refused to ripen. When was I supposed to harvest? When all of them turned purple? When a few were still green? I was baffled.

I had my answer the day some of those early bloomers burst their skins and went flat and droopy. Oops. No matter what color, those grapes were coming with me! Carefully, I snipped off the three little bundles (at most 30 or 40 grapes).

I dared not risk bruising my precious cargo in a wicker basket. Instead, I carefully turned up the hem of my T-shirt to form a pocket (think apron pocket) and nestled the grapes against my waist. I patted them gently to make sure they stayed safe, then closed the garden gate and headed for the air-conditioned house.

I went straight to the kitchen, stood over the counter and flipped open my shirt. No grapes! Not one! They’d fallen out! Panicked, I retraced my steps; surely red and green grapes would be easy to find. No grapes were seen. I went back to the house, more slowly, eyes scanning the green grass. Could birds or squirrels have grabbed them so quickly? Curses on them!

Tears were beginning to gather behind my eyelids. Five years of battling birds and bugs and I had LOST the first harvest? I tried to think like Sesame Street and “take a walk backwards in my mind.” Where had I gone? What had I done? I’d snipped the grapes, put them in my shirt, went to the house...ah! I’d closed the other garden gate!

And there they were, a little smashed (apparently I’d stepped on a few of them), but mostly intact. I made silent apologies to the birds and squirrels after my undeserved condemnation.

Then it hit me: I had actually lost my grapes! On the way from the garden to my house, I had LOST my grapes! I had to ask: Is that like losing your marbles?

Do you lose your marbles and then lose your grapes? Or does losing your grapes MAKE you lose your marbles? Is there ADD medication you can take for losing your grapes?

I was still giggling as I composed the survivor grapes into a sad little still life and took pictures for posterity. I might never harvest grapes again. But if I do, with god as my witness: “I’ll never lose my grapes again!”

Not sure I can say the same about losing my marbles...

A Bit of Ancient Greek Wisdom for ADDers

I dare say Aristotle didn’t have an ADD brain. But across those dusty eons, he has offered me a clue to settling my anxious brain.

“In all things, moderation.” When I first encountered Aristotle’s famous advice, I was (immoderately) indignant. What kind of boring life would it be if we all hit the middle ground: no over-the-top exuberance nor down-to-the-depths depression?

Those extremes -- at least the ecstatic and energetic side of the equation -- are what make me feel alive and vital. Granted, the downside is less pleasant, but at least I live the feelings. I am fully in the experience.

These days, I have a little more appreciation for the philosophy of good old Aristotle and his Greek friends. I like the serenity of a calm, even-tempered life, especially with a positive twist. I like being happy. I like smiling. But I don’t stay in a Zen-like state of calm all the time.

This morning, I awoke to the distinctive sound of bulldozers in the neighborhood. Trees were being cleared for a new home site. No big deal, right? I should be happy someone is spurring the economy by building a new house.

Except that...
1. I am trying to buy the vacant lot across the street from this home site because...
2. I need it to meet the requirements of the county planning department for GardenSpirit Guesthouse, my retreat center -- and...
3. The guy who owns the lot I need lives in Minneapolis, MN and won’t respond to my emails -- and...
4. The lot being cleared is owned by a woman also from Minneapolis with the same last name -- and...
5. If I don’t buy the vacant lot, I might have to close GardenSpirit permanently! My dream-come-true would dissolve!

Anxiety and anguish pierced my brain, ambushing my plans to work on my website and write a few press releases. Forget work! My mind was building a hundred difference scenarios around the vacant lot, each more devastating than the last.

Then I remembered the advice of a woman who had visited GardenSpirit and was enchanted by its purple tree house, its tranquil, soft furnishings and spiritual connection. She had emailed me about the purchase of the land:

“Go walk the labyrinth and see what you receive. Then set an intention and let it go, knowing that it, or something better, will appear!”

Of course. The Law of Attraction! The labyrinth! The journey vs. the destination! I eagerly pulled on some comfortable clothes and made my way to the mouth of my 60-foot outdoor labyrinth.

A labyrinth is different from a maze; there is only one way in and one way out. No tricks or twists. Just one foot in front of the other, walking the path, looking ahead only as far as the next curve.

I usually ask a question or set an intention at the beginning of my labyrinth walk, then allow the answers to percolate as I make my way slowly to the middle. I have five stumps perched in the center of the labyrinth, so I can sit and meditate or enjoy the towering trees and the sound of the birds. Then I walk out on the same path, integrating what I have learned.

And what I learned today was: moderation in all things. There is balance to life. Walk in and walk out. Cool and warm. Ebb and flow. Buy and sell.

The property for GardenSpirit will be available when I need it and at a price I can pay. Or something better will happen. I can trust the process. And I can allow my mind to be in balance instead of scattered and frightened.

I dare say Aristotle didn’t have an ADD brain. But across those dusty eons, he has offered me a clue to settling my anxious brain.

Moderation.
In all things.
At least occasionally.