Journaling from inside the storm

Inconsistency is the disorder. That was the most powerful statement about ADHD that I’ve encountered. And probably the most accurate.

I had a rough weekend, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I thought by taking it easy on Saturday and Sunday I would enter Monday with all my resources and the ability to really tackle my projects. That would be consistent with taking an easy weekend. But no. It doesn’t work that way. Inconsistency is the disorder. Taking a break yesterday does not guarantee functionality today. That would make too much damned sense.

So here I am on a “no” day, while projects pile up and expectations are not met. The only thing—the only thing—I can control in this moment is how I respond to my situation. And I’m choosing kindness.

Not everyone with ADHD has the freedom to sit under a cat and journal on a work day. In that way I’m lucky. But self-kindness takes many forms. If you’re working a job for someone else, you could try organizing your files or cleaning your space or try some other act of taking control of your world. Busy work is still work. It’s just a suggestion, and for some on a really severe no day, even that much executive functioning may be too much. But it’s worth a try.

I was at a writing group last week, working alongside of some other writers. We were “co-working,” which is a fancy word for body doubling. We took a break to socialize and I mentioned my work on ADHD. One of the participants was studying to be a physicians assistant. He started telling the group how ADHD is misunderstood, how back in the glory days of the hunter gatherers, being ADHD was a superpower, because neurodiverse people would notice things allistic people wouldn’t. Like elk. I’m not making that up. That was his example. Like a neurotypical person wouldn’t notice a 1,000 pound loaf of meat on legs wandering around. It was laughable.

I’ve said this before. Having ADHD is not equivalent to being bit by a radioactive spider in the Marvel Universe. Back in the glory days of the hunter gatherers, I’d expect, being neurodiverse simply didn’t get in the way of getting laid and having babies. At the end of the day, that’s the standard for evolutionary pressures, not whether it gets in the way of gathering berries on a given day.

Right now, all I can do is be nice to myself. Because there’s no sense in making myself feel worse. I feel bad enough. Adding shame to the fire would not be a great move.