I suppose you could read that subject line as either figurative or literal. And really, both are important questions. But for the purposes of this prose, I'm referring to the literal. That's because it's currently driving me mad.
A few weeks ago, I learned of a possible new job opportunity that's awesome. However, should it really materialize, it would not happen for at least several months. Do understand that I'm gainfully employed and fairly content, too, although the part of me that's discontent is rabidly so. (And rest assured that I'm quite thankful for what I already have.) But this new thing would pretty much entail exactly what I would want if I could design ADD Libber's Dream Job.
And so, I wait.
The thing is, my ADD brain's wired to want what I want and want it NOW. My brain is that little kid in the restaurant who didn't finish his chicken fingers and, consequently, his parents are withholding his ice cream dessert. And what happens then? He screams and tearily rants about what he perceives as utter injustice, even though he doesn't yet know what injustice means.
Now because behaving like that little kid isn't socially acceptable for an adult, not to mention quite unbecoming, I do something totally different: I obsess. A lot. I'd say it's probably my most avid pastime. It's sometimes therapeutic, but certainly not always. In fact, it goes in stages a bit like this:
1) elation - this is the immediate reaction, which goes along the lines of thinking "this is the best day EVER," and looping it through my head a good 500,000 times.
2) fantasy future - this is probably the most enjoyable part, in which I muse about what it'll be like once the object of my obsession comes true. The future is pretty much shiny and perfect.
3) irrational reality check - after repeating step two for a ridiculously long time, I regain my bearings in the present moment and tell myself to chill out. But instead of getting all zen about stuff, I start looking for what I believe is the irrational notion that said future plan is definitely going to fall through. That's not to say that I totally think negatively about it, but rather, I start to muse about how this fantasy situation might not be what I think it's cracked up to be.
Fortunately, my good pal B. has been an awesome ear throughout this mad thought process of mine. When I conjure up some of the thoughts that fall under step three, I call B. and she provides a rational reality check. B. is patient and rational about these things. And so when I mention that I sure hope that the person who offered me said opportunity doesn't forget that he did, she compels me to examine my nonexistent evidence for such a thought.
The worst part about waiting, though, is that we chew up time in our lives by thinking so much about moments that are far from the present ones. I hate that because that's mental energy best spent on other things. In the meantime, I decided that I need a few personal projects to carry me through this time (because what ADDer doesn't adore brand new projects? Certainly not this one!). I've started a new workout challenge with an online tracker, and I'm also trying to do something fun and a little bit special for myself each day, even if it's just a little lunchtime walk that's not one of my usual routes.
So yes, maybe I have replaced my giant obsession with a couple of smaller ones. But these take place in the present time, moments that require no waiting.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Welcome, ADDitude readers!
If you linked here from the ADDitude article, thank you for stopping by!
And to update my previous post, I just discovered that the article's already on the ADDitude site, so here's a link to it.
And to update my previous post, I just discovered that the article's already on the ADDitude site, so here's a link to it.
I'm back in the saddle again!
Hey to all of you in blogland! Just wanted to let y'all know that I'm alive and well and happy. Three things to catch you up on:
1. I have at least a dozen, or maybe 20, half-finished blog posts that never made it on here. I found that I would start to write, realize my writing was getting to something therapeutic, figure out that thing, and then carry on without posting what I wrote. So, maybe I'll get some of that stuff up here and maybe I won't, but there are a few things that I have in the works, so get psyched for those.
2. And speaking of getting psyched, the good people at the terrific ADDitude Magazine are excerpting one of my old blog posts in an upcoming issue! I'm ridiculously flattered and honored that they're reprinting my words in hard copy.
3. Lastly, since my last hiatus, I discovered that there's another lady out there who started a blog called ADD-Libbing, but that's not me. It appears that she's blogging as ADDMom, but the only caretaking I currently do for another living thing is ensure that my 6 month old bamboo plant gets plenty of water to drink. I'm quite proud of it, actually; it's the first plant I've had in years that's remained alive this long!
1. I have at least a dozen, or maybe 20, half-finished blog posts that never made it on here. I found that I would start to write, realize my writing was getting to something therapeutic, figure out that thing, and then carry on without posting what I wrote. So, maybe I'll get some of that stuff up here and maybe I won't, but there are a few things that I have in the works, so get psyched for those.
2. And speaking of getting psyched, the good people at the terrific ADDitude Magazine are excerpting one of my old blog posts in an upcoming issue! I'm ridiculously flattered and honored that they're reprinting my words in hard copy.
3. Lastly, since my last hiatus, I discovered that there's another lady out there who started a blog called ADD-Libbing, but that's not me. It appears that she's blogging as ADDMom, but the only caretaking I currently do for another living thing is ensure that my 6 month old bamboo plant gets plenty of water to drink. I'm quite proud of it, actually; it's the first plant I've had in years that's remained alive this long!
Sunday, March 20, 2011
One way only?!
I learned a lot in the writing class that I recently took. Interestingly, one of the things I learned wasn't something necessarily related to the craft of writing.
There's nothing more awesome than taking a class with an instructor whose passion about the subject area is downright infectious. Unfortunately, that wasn't our teacher. Certainly, he's a nice guy, knows his craft well, gave lots of good pointers and feedback and such, but passion? Not really. Our teacher often seemed discontent. No doubt, a work week that included undergraduate composition class in the morning, noncredit adult students in the evening, and his own work during the day and late at night wasn't the most desirable. But hey, I have my own job to complain about.
On the first night of class, the teacher ticked off a list of what he referred to as the non-negotiable ground rules of the class. These covered writing assignments and class readings and such. And then he mentioned the key one: we had to pick a block of time, two hours, the same time each week, and that was going to be our writing time. Nothing, he said, was to take precedence over this block of writing time. According to our teacher, if we wanted to be serious writers, then this is one of the things that we must do.
I'm sure you can guess how this worked out for me.
Think about it: if you tell an ADDer that there's only one way to do something, it's only going to cause stress and rebellion. I tried our teacher's method for a couple of weeks, and it was an utter failure. I picked Sunday mornings, since I'm typically home at that time. I figured that he wouldn't give this advice if it wasn't going to work, so I'd do as I was asked.
On the first attempt, I stared at a blank Word document for about 20 minutes and then went to check my email, which led to a scan of the Sunday paper headlines and maybe a YouTube video...and magically, the two hours filled themselves nicely. Of course, I was kind of stressed that I didn't do my writing. But interestingly, I went about my day, and the story I was going to write started materializing in my head, which I then started writing later that evening.
On the second attempt, I was fairly hungover from my birthday party the previous night. Needless to say, I was yet again unsuccessful.
There was no third attempt.
I still felt some guilt about not being able to keep a writing appointment with myself. Do I not have it in me to be a serious writer? Oh, wait, do I want to be a "serious writer," anyway? Moreover, do I want to be a "serious writer" like my teacher purports to be?
I'd say yes, no, no. Yes - if I want to be a "serious writer," I can be. No - mainly because I don't know what that exactly means. And no - if it means that I'm going to walk around looking like I haven't eaten enough fiber and get cranky at my class, I'm not going to rack up tens of thousands in student loans to be that way.
Shortly after I came to this conclusion, I was telling my friend R. about this over dinner. R. was incredulous over the "writing block" notion. Certainly, R. thought that this may be a successful tactic for some people (which I certainly agree with). But, as R. said, "It's ridiculous for anyone to insist that there's only one way to do something. Especially writing! All you need to do to write is write!"
I really appreciated R.'s perspective on this. R's a non-ADDer, so hearing this assuaged my feelings that I wasn't able to comply with the teacher's edict because I lack discipline. In fact, I soon discovered that my way of kicking around story ideas in my head for a while before hitting the computer makes it a lot easier for me to write. This may not work for everyone, of course, and I wouldn't ever require anyone to try it if they knew of a way that worked better for them. In any case, you can thank my method for this blog post!
There's nothing more awesome than taking a class with an instructor whose passion about the subject area is downright infectious. Unfortunately, that wasn't our teacher. Certainly, he's a nice guy, knows his craft well, gave lots of good pointers and feedback and such, but passion? Not really. Our teacher often seemed discontent. No doubt, a work week that included undergraduate composition class in the morning, noncredit adult students in the evening, and his own work during the day and late at night wasn't the most desirable. But hey, I have my own job to complain about.
On the first night of class, the teacher ticked off a list of what he referred to as the non-negotiable ground rules of the class. These covered writing assignments and class readings and such. And then he mentioned the key one: we had to pick a block of time, two hours, the same time each week, and that was going to be our writing time. Nothing, he said, was to take precedence over this block of writing time. According to our teacher, if we wanted to be serious writers, then this is one of the things that we must do.
I'm sure you can guess how this worked out for me.
Think about it: if you tell an ADDer that there's only one way to do something, it's only going to cause stress and rebellion. I tried our teacher's method for a couple of weeks, and it was an utter failure. I picked Sunday mornings, since I'm typically home at that time. I figured that he wouldn't give this advice if it wasn't going to work, so I'd do as I was asked.
On the first attempt, I stared at a blank Word document for about 20 minutes and then went to check my email, which led to a scan of the Sunday paper headlines and maybe a YouTube video...and magically, the two hours filled themselves nicely. Of course, I was kind of stressed that I didn't do my writing. But interestingly, I went about my day, and the story I was going to write started materializing in my head, which I then started writing later that evening.
On the second attempt, I was fairly hungover from my birthday party the previous night. Needless to say, I was yet again unsuccessful.
There was no third attempt.
I still felt some guilt about not being able to keep a writing appointment with myself. Do I not have it in me to be a serious writer? Oh, wait, do I want to be a "serious writer," anyway? Moreover, do I want to be a "serious writer" like my teacher purports to be?
I'd say yes, no, no. Yes - if I want to be a "serious writer," I can be. No - mainly because I don't know what that exactly means. And no - if it means that I'm going to walk around looking like I haven't eaten enough fiber and get cranky at my class, I'm not going to rack up tens of thousands in student loans to be that way.
Shortly after I came to this conclusion, I was telling my friend R. about this over dinner. R. was incredulous over the "writing block" notion. Certainly, R. thought that this may be a successful tactic for some people (which I certainly agree with). But, as R. said, "It's ridiculous for anyone to insist that there's only one way to do something. Especially writing! All you need to do to write is write!"
I really appreciated R.'s perspective on this. R's a non-ADDer, so hearing this assuaged my feelings that I wasn't able to comply with the teacher's edict because I lack discipline. In fact, I soon discovered that my way of kicking around story ideas in my head for a while before hitting the computer makes it a lot easier for me to write. This may not work for everyone, of course, and I wouldn't ever require anyone to try it if they knew of a way that worked better for them. In any case, you can thank my method for this blog post!
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Back to basics
Recently, I passed the fifth anniversary of getting officially diagnosed with ADD. The fifth anniversary's referred to as the "paper anniversary". Accordingly, I'm sure that I spent that day looking through stacks of papers, and (for added drama) probably being late for something, too.
I'm going to rip off the "What I Know For Sure" column that Oprah writes in the back of her magazine to share a few thoughts about my diagnosis and taking ADD meds:
* Prior to Diagnosis Day, I had this notion that once I started taking ADD meds, I would be interested in taking care of everything that absolutely uninterests me because I know had focus, baby. That idea, alas, couldn't be more untrue. If a drug gets developed that makes me care about housecleaning or filing my taxes, then I'll be the first in line for it.
I'm going to rip off the "What I Know For Sure" column that Oprah writes in the back of her magazine to share a few thoughts about my diagnosis and taking ADD meds:
* Prior to Diagnosis Day, I had this notion that once I started taking ADD meds, I would be interested in taking care of everything that absolutely uninterests me because I know had focus, baby. That idea, alas, couldn't be more untrue. If a drug gets developed that makes me care about housecleaning or filing my taxes, then I'll be the first in line for it.
* If you think you're an ADDer and are unmedicated and wonder what it's like taking ADD meds, do this: tune a channel on your radio a decimal or so above or below the actual station number (if you're old-school, just turn the knob a hair). The out of tune station is how I felt before meds; the in-tune station is how I feel with meds. And either way, I still wanna rock.
* I spent so many years out of focus that I didn't really know what it was like to be focused. For example, I used to think all of my work was hard to get through, but I then realized (once medicated) that it was easier to maintain a train of thought on tasks that I indeed enjoy.
* On that note, drugs don't change your psychology. So, you will still dislike your coworkers or have commitment issues or be bored by what you consider busywork. Perhaps ADD factors into your issues, but solely blaming ADD for 'em isn't going to help you cope. (Even though I've worded this in the second person, I'm also talking to myself here.)
* Lastly, and most importantly, taking care of yourself has to come first, above everything else. I learned this big-time when I got coaching after my diagnosis. Getting enough sleep, eating right, planning your day, and doing stuff you enjoy is key.
So, I'll be honest and 'fess up here: I've been missing the mark lately on that last point. Skipping sleep's been the biggest culprit. Staying up late to "catch up on stuff" never pays off in the long run. And hey, let's be honest: I look so much better when I'm well rested and not haggard looking. And when I don't get enough sleep, everything else seems to fall apart to some degree. I don't eat properly; instead, I become a Dyson vacuum for carbohydrates in pursuit of energy. And of course, the combo of these two things certainly wore down my resistance, resulting in me being knocked out sick a couple of weeks ago. As far as planning goes...I've taken to jot appointments down on post-its and stick them in the canyon of my work bag, rather than put 'em in my calendar.
One thing I have made an effort of doing, though, is making time to do stuff that I enjoy. I recently finished a writing class that's made me realize how much I've been missing my favorite creative pursuit. Which, actually, is what got myself back here, so yay for that. The grind that is my job seemed to curb my social life, and I've been making more of an effort to connect with my pals.
So, it's time to take all of the knowledge I gained in years 1-5 as an ADDer, use it, and live it. Wish me luck!
Sunday, June 13, 2010
You can't be a writer unless you write, and other statements of the obvious sort.
I live in two worlds.
One is the material and physical world in which I exist as the real person behind ADD-Libbing, with all of my quirks and qualities and expertly covered grey hairs.
The other is the life I sometimes (OK, often to always) live in my head. This is the life in which I created a pretty sweet mindset that includes all of the awesome things I'm going to do and try and enjoy.
Now, both of these things are fine. Except for one thing: the ADD mind is like that Fourth of July carnival that comes to your town (or one near yours...or if you're outside of the U.S., a festival for another occasion) filled with sno-cones and ferris wheels and dunk tanks and junky prizes that seemed important at the time that they're won.
There's one difference, though. The carnival in the mind never ends. And so, as I've often thought, we ADDers need to separate the not-so-great-for-us parts of the carnival (like eating six candy apples a day) from the better parts of the carnival (like the scholarship fund's raffle that helps deserving kids go to college).
Lately, I've been guilty of the metaphoric candy apple indulging. After a busy 2009 doing a lot of enjoyable things and having the requisite challenges and such, I've now realized that I've been cruising way too easily through 2010. I've been traveling a bunch for the employer, which has been a good thing, but sometimes the hubbub that goes along with being on work travel masks the fact that I've not been attending to my own goals and interests.
As I mentioned in the subject line for this post, you can't call yourself a runner unless you write. Which, duh, is obvious. But in that little world that I've created in my mind, I'm totally a writer. I'm also totally a dozen other things, too, like a cook and an athlete and such. But microwaving is cooking as much as paying for a gym membership without going makes me an athlete.
I've repeatedly reminded myself in the last couple of months that I needed to blog. Yes, needed. There are a lot of things I've figured out for myself as I've typed them here. Many of these can be read on this blog, but others have not made it onto the blog for public viewing. (Yeah, heavy...I know!)
What brought me here today is that I got a comment on a post from a reader that began with, "I really LOVE your blog!" I blushed a little, admittedly, and thought about how my experience with ADD helps others with ADD, just like other blogs and similar resources helped me when I was first diagnosed. And those things still do help me, too.
But what I often forget is that when I don't blog or don't comment on stuff or don't do the things that I really want to do and instead reach for the remote or click around Facebook or eat convenient frozen meals or say that I'll go to the gym tomorrow or not work on that really great idea for a novel that I have is that I'm missing out on the good stuff. To get back to my carnival analogy for a minute, candy apples are good things in small doses. But they never compose an entire meal, nor should they.
(If you don't value your teeth, then perhaps this analogy makes little sense. But, I'm guessing that teeth are important to you. So, good, we're on the same page.)
Honestly, this post didn't necessarily go where I thought it would when I first started writing it. But, I'm glad that it went where it did. As Newton's first law of motion states, "Every object persists in its state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line unless it is compelled to change that state by forces impressed on it." And if there was anyone's butt that needed a figurative kick impressed on it, it's been mine.
So yes, I'm getting myself back in the game here. It's great to be back. Part of me wants to go back through this and edit it to pieces and navel gaze about what I've written and save it as a draft. But nope, it's going up for all to read, warts and all!
Thanks for reading this, folks. And if you stop by, please comment and say hello. Because knowing that we're all in this together is something that we always want to remember.
One is the material and physical world in which I exist as the real person behind ADD-Libbing, with all of my quirks and qualities and expertly covered grey hairs.
The other is the life I sometimes (OK, often to always) live in my head. This is the life in which I created a pretty sweet mindset that includes all of the awesome things I'm going to do and try and enjoy.
Now, both of these things are fine. Except for one thing: the ADD mind is like that Fourth of July carnival that comes to your town (or one near yours...or if you're outside of the U.S., a festival for another occasion) filled with sno-cones and ferris wheels and dunk tanks and junky prizes that seemed important at the time that they're won.
There's one difference, though. The carnival in the mind never ends. And so, as I've often thought, we ADDers need to separate the not-so-great-for-us parts of the carnival (like eating six candy apples a day) from the better parts of the carnival (like the scholarship fund's raffle that helps deserving kids go to college).
Lately, I've been guilty of the metaphoric candy apple indulging. After a busy 2009 doing a lot of enjoyable things and having the requisite challenges and such, I've now realized that I've been cruising way too easily through 2010. I've been traveling a bunch for the employer, which has been a good thing, but sometimes the hubbub that goes along with being on work travel masks the fact that I've not been attending to my own goals and interests.
As I mentioned in the subject line for this post, you can't call yourself a runner unless you write. Which, duh, is obvious. But in that little world that I've created in my mind, I'm totally a writer. I'm also totally a dozen other things, too, like a cook and an athlete and such. But microwaving is cooking as much as paying for a gym membership without going makes me an athlete.
I've repeatedly reminded myself in the last couple of months that I needed to blog. Yes, needed. There are a lot of things I've figured out for myself as I've typed them here. Many of these can be read on this blog, but others have not made it onto the blog for public viewing. (Yeah, heavy...I know!)
What brought me here today is that I got a comment on a post from a reader that began with, "I really LOVE your blog!" I blushed a little, admittedly, and thought about how my experience with ADD helps others with ADD, just like other blogs and similar resources helped me when I was first diagnosed. And those things still do help me, too.
But what I often forget is that when I don't blog or don't comment on stuff or don't do the things that I really want to do and instead reach for the remote or click around Facebook or eat convenient frozen meals or say that I'll go to the gym tomorrow or not work on that really great idea for a novel that I have is that I'm missing out on the good stuff. To get back to my carnival analogy for a minute, candy apples are good things in small doses. But they never compose an entire meal, nor should they.
(If you don't value your teeth, then perhaps this analogy makes little sense. But, I'm guessing that teeth are important to you. So, good, we're on the same page.)
Honestly, this post didn't necessarily go where I thought it would when I first started writing it. But, I'm glad that it went where it did. As Newton's first law of motion states, "Every object persists in its state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line unless it is compelled to change that state by forces impressed on it." And if there was anyone's butt that needed a figurative kick impressed on it, it's been mine.
So yes, I'm getting myself back in the game here. It's great to be back. Part of me wants to go back through this and edit it to pieces and navel gaze about what I've written and save it as a draft. But nope, it's going up for all to read, warts and all!
Thanks for reading this, folks. And if you stop by, please comment and say hello. Because knowing that we're all in this together is something that we always want to remember.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Aw, what a card.
Because of some insane spark of inspiration that washed over me, I eagerly decided tonight to blog about Christmas cards. I was pretty sure that I once wrote a post about cards at some point. And whoa, I did indeed write one -- one day short of 2 years ago and available here for your reading pleasure. The timing coincidence on that is cute and all. But you could have knocked me over with a candy cane when I read my follow up post. Seriously, my eyes bugged out like one of those kids on a creepy oil painting when I read this:
Several weeks ago, I started addressing envelopes, including the one for M., a friend of mine. However, I learned recently that our friendship's not worth the 41 cents it'd take to mail the card.
OK, two things:
First, someone really needed to spike the eggnog for my 2007 self with a big ol' shot of get over yourself. Basically, I expected M. to read my mind about something that I also blew out of proportion, and he didn't. I'd go further with the story, but then you'd be thinking, "why am I reading this middle school girl's blog?"
Second, and even more hilarious, M. recently moved and emailed me his new address today. You know, so that the card I'll be sending reaches him. And I'll be getting one from him, of course. After we went back and forth on email for quite a while, we finally chatted on the phone for a bit and had a nice conversation.
My point with the M. story is that sometimes (ok, often), the ADD brain gets all caught up in chasing after the shiny thing in front of it. And, if you're me, that's great if the shiny thing is a sweet patent leather handbag like I got last year for 70 percent off. But if the shiny thing is some petty drama that you can't release from your craw, then for us to spend our mental energy on it is a futile mission that has one victim: ourselves. I maybe see M. once a year, and I do recall that it took me several months to "get over it". And I'm glad that I did, as he's an even bigger goofball than I am, and we always have a hilarious time together.
I'm glad that I could catch you up with the happy continuation of M. and my friendship. But now, on to the main point that I wanted make here about Christmas cards.
As per usual this year, I fired up the ol' spreadsheet shortly after Thanksgiving and started to type up the list of folks to whom I'd be sending cards. I was going to be placing an order for cards, so I wanted to make sure that I ordered the right amount. I did weed out a few names (sans the middle school drama), but I noticed that I added many more this year.
The completed list included 50 names, which is more than I ever had on my Christmas card list. And weirdly enough, I didn't feel my typical dread of writing, addressing, sealing, stamping, and mailing. Instead, I looked at the names and realized that I was happy to have these folks in my life. I even thought that about my cousin who openly bemoans my dubious urban singleton lifestyle to anyone within earshot, never mind the fact that I like to travel outside my area code. (Having a million entertainment stories, dates with cute guys, and seeing the world? Priceless!)
I think it very easy to get caught up in the hullabaloo of the holidays. TV ads tout "the perfect Christmas" and equate love with some mass-produced geegaw from the mall jewelry store. Just like my silly situation with my friend M., it's easy for ADDers to fixate on the interesting thing right in front of us and forget the stuff that grounds us. And that's usually the people in our lives.
So when you tick off another name on your card list, think about why you're sending this person a card. Maybe they remember you from back in the day with your big ol' 80s hairdo (and I'm not just talking about the ladies here). Or maybe they're a new pal who, wow, totally understands you. Or perhaps they're like my cousin, and they're an imperfect judgemental being...you know, just like we all are. Or maybe they're like M., and you finally realize that all the stamps sold by the U.S. Postal Service aren't worth as much as your friendship does.
Several weeks ago, I started addressing envelopes, including the one for M., a friend of mine. However, I learned recently that our friendship's not worth the 41 cents it'd take to mail the card.
OK, two things:
First, someone really needed to spike the eggnog for my 2007 self with a big ol' shot of get over yourself. Basically, I expected M. to read my mind about something that I also blew out of proportion, and he didn't. I'd go further with the story, but then you'd be thinking, "why am I reading this middle school girl's blog?"
Second, and even more hilarious, M. recently moved and emailed me his new address today. You know, so that the card I'll be sending reaches him. And I'll be getting one from him, of course. After we went back and forth on email for quite a while, we finally chatted on the phone for a bit and had a nice conversation.
My point with the M. story is that sometimes (ok, often), the ADD brain gets all caught up in chasing after the shiny thing in front of it. And, if you're me, that's great if the shiny thing is a sweet patent leather handbag like I got last year for 70 percent off. But if the shiny thing is some petty drama that you can't release from your craw, then for us to spend our mental energy on it is a futile mission that has one victim: ourselves. I maybe see M. once a year, and I do recall that it took me several months to "get over it". And I'm glad that I did, as he's an even bigger goofball than I am, and we always have a hilarious time together.
I'm glad that I could catch you up with the happy continuation of M. and my friendship. But now, on to the main point that I wanted make here about Christmas cards.
As per usual this year, I fired up the ol' spreadsheet shortly after Thanksgiving and started to type up the list of folks to whom I'd be sending cards. I was going to be placing an order for cards, so I wanted to make sure that I ordered the right amount. I did weed out a few names (sans the middle school drama), but I noticed that I added many more this year.
The completed list included 50 names, which is more than I ever had on my Christmas card list. And weirdly enough, I didn't feel my typical dread of writing, addressing, sealing, stamping, and mailing. Instead, I looked at the names and realized that I was happy to have these folks in my life. I even thought that about my cousin who openly bemoans my dubious urban singleton lifestyle to anyone within earshot, never mind the fact that I like to travel outside my area code. (Having a million entertainment stories, dates with cute guys, and seeing the world? Priceless!)
I think it very easy to get caught up in the hullabaloo of the holidays. TV ads tout "the perfect Christmas" and equate love with some mass-produced geegaw from the mall jewelry store. Just like my silly situation with my friend M., it's easy for ADDers to fixate on the interesting thing right in front of us and forget the stuff that grounds us. And that's usually the people in our lives.
So when you tick off another name on your card list, think about why you're sending this person a card. Maybe they remember you from back in the day with your big ol' 80s hairdo (and I'm not just talking about the ladies here). Or maybe they're a new pal who, wow, totally understands you. Or perhaps they're like my cousin, and they're an imperfect judgemental being...you know, just like we all are. Or maybe they're like M., and you finally realize that all the stamps sold by the U.S. Postal Service aren't worth as much as your friendship does.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
A taxing defense?
Today's "ADD in the News" story introduces us to Robin Magee, a professor at a law school in Minnesota. The prof's in a legal pickle of her own after being charged today with 11 felonies that pertain to her failure to pay state income taxes or file tax returns. Oops.
In the matter of how did this happen, counsellor, what say you?
"Magee stated that she has been unable to organize her records because she has extreme ADD and is unable to complete her tax returns."
That's what she said! You can read it for yourself in the criminal complaint, which is linked here.
(And I'm curious: does "extreme ADD" involve skateboards and Mountain Dew? If so, why did I end up with the boring regular ADD? Not fair! I digress...)
Folks, lately I've been working hard at having compassion for others and being non-judgemental. But honestly, Gandhi would have a hard time understanding Ms. Magee. For starters, she's a law professor who once practiced tax law. Although I'm not a lawyer, I am an American, and you can't escape knowing that April 15 rolls around every year. (The commercials for Turbo Tax and H&R Block won't let you, anyway.) She also earned her law degree from the University of Michigan (go blue!), which is one of this nation's top ten law schools. She's a smart lady, to be sure.
But yeah, I realize that intellect and ADD are two very different things. I have both of these things, so I should know. And therein lies the problem.
I think it's difficult for non-ADDers to understand that a clinical disorder can cause you to forget things because your mind is elsewhere or be confounded by having to file papers in your desk. On a daily basis, I try to explain these sorts of things to non-ADD people, and it's just not something to which they easily relate. So, when ADDers use the disorder as a defense for actions of this magnitude, I feel that it hurts all of us ADDers. It perpetuates the inaccurate stereotype that ADDers are capricious nitwits who don't have their act together.
Ms. Magee, if you lost your W-2s and want to blame your ADD for it, go right ahead. But attributing years of tax evasion and fabricating information on tax returns to ADD? Eh, overruled. Can she attribute her ADD to having difficulty with preparing tax returns? Yeah, sure. But if you want to attribute 11(!) criminal charges solely to ADD, then you may as well blame ADD for credit default swaps and trans-fats while you're at it.
Admittedly, I tried to be mature and give Ms. Magee the benefit of the doubt. And apparently, so did the the tax department:
"MDOR investigators requested Magee to provide documentation that she was medically unable to file tax returns due to the stated condition, but she has failed to provide any such documentation."
Hmmm. But wait; there's more:
"Magee also claimed that she did not believe that her repeated delinquent filing of income tax returns was criminal because she was due refunds because she overpays taxes." However, MDOR records show that for most years, tax was due after adding back income which Magee had omitted and eliminating expenses she could not substantiate."
I don't have a copy of the DSM-IV handy, but the last time I checked, cheating on your taxes isn't a symptom of ADD. If so, the prisons would be jammed with me and you and the rest of the ADD populace.
I do wish Ms. Magee well and hope that she takes responsibility for her actions instead of using her ADD as a foil for them. And speaking of Gandhi, as I did earlier, I'm going to take to heart his sage quote, "You must be the change you wish to see in the world." There is a big stack of tax-related papers on my desk, and I shall file them now.
In the matter of how did this happen, counsellor, what say you?
"Magee stated that she has been unable to organize her records because she has extreme ADD and is unable to complete her tax returns."
That's what she said! You can read it for yourself in the criminal complaint, which is linked here.
(And I'm curious: does "extreme ADD" involve skateboards and Mountain Dew? If so, why did I end up with the boring regular ADD? Not fair! I digress...)
Folks, lately I've been working hard at having compassion for others and being non-judgemental. But honestly, Gandhi would have a hard time understanding Ms. Magee. For starters, she's a law professor who once practiced tax law. Although I'm not a lawyer, I am an American, and you can't escape knowing that April 15 rolls around every year. (The commercials for Turbo Tax and H&R Block won't let you, anyway.) She also earned her law degree from the University of Michigan (go blue!), which is one of this nation's top ten law schools. She's a smart lady, to be sure.
But yeah, I realize that intellect and ADD are two very different things. I have both of these things, so I should know. And therein lies the problem.
I think it's difficult for non-ADDers to understand that a clinical disorder can cause you to forget things because your mind is elsewhere or be confounded by having to file papers in your desk. On a daily basis, I try to explain these sorts of things to non-ADD people, and it's just not something to which they easily relate. So, when ADDers use the disorder as a defense for actions of this magnitude, I feel that it hurts all of us ADDers. It perpetuates the inaccurate stereotype that ADDers are capricious nitwits who don't have their act together.
Ms. Magee, if you lost your W-2s and want to blame your ADD for it, go right ahead. But attributing years of tax evasion and fabricating information on tax returns to ADD? Eh, overruled. Can she attribute her ADD to having difficulty with preparing tax returns? Yeah, sure. But if you want to attribute 11(!) criminal charges solely to ADD, then you may as well blame ADD for credit default swaps and trans-fats while you're at it.
Admittedly, I tried to be mature and give Ms. Magee the benefit of the doubt. And apparently, so did the the tax department:
"MDOR investigators requested Magee to provide documentation that she was medically unable to file tax returns due to the stated condition, but she has failed to provide any such documentation."
Hmmm. But wait; there's more:
"Magee also claimed that she did not believe that her repeated delinquent filing of income tax returns was criminal because she was due refunds because she overpays taxes." However, MDOR records show that for most years, tax was due after adding back income which Magee had omitted and eliminating expenses she could not substantiate."
I don't have a copy of the DSM-IV handy, but the last time I checked, cheating on your taxes isn't a symptom of ADD. If so, the prisons would be jammed with me and you and the rest of the ADD populace.
I do wish Ms. Magee well and hope that she takes responsibility for her actions instead of using her ADD as a foil for them. And speaking of Gandhi, as I did earlier, I'm going to take to heart his sage quote, "You must be the change you wish to see in the world." There is a big stack of tax-related papers on my desk, and I shall file them now.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
When (and if) routines get too routine.
I work with a guy named R. who is all about having structure in his life. Every day, he arrives at work at the same time, goes to the gym at the same time, eats the same lunch at his desk that he totes to work each day, and leaves at the same time. He also rinses out his coffee pot at the end of the day at exactly 1/2 hour before he departs. I know this because I see him walk past my workspace to the office kitchen every day at the same time.
R. is not obsessive-compulsive. Rather, he just likes having structure in his life. A lot. If you were to ask R. about the recent vacation that he and his girlfriend took, he would certainly tell you how much they enjoyed the trip. But he would also tell you that he is happy to be back to his daily routine.
When I think about R.'s structured life, I'm of two minds. On the one hand, I think that having a routine like that is boring. His schedule doesn't permit going for a walk on a lovely day. He also declines lunch invitiations from his friends from time to time so that he can maintain his routine. I can't imagine not being able to treat my lunch hour as my own play-by-ear time of the day where I get to do whatever I feel like doing, instead of treating it as a time to fulfill a self-imposed requirement.
On the other hand, I wouldn't mind to have an ounce of the structure that he has. (Just an ounce, though.) I like the idea of having more structure that allows things to happen rather automatically. Presently, I have routines of sorts for my mornings, both at home and at work. In both cases, these series of actions seemed to come to be over time out of convenience and effiency rather than any sort of conscious planning. For example, at work I fill my water glass while my computer boots up, followed by a review of my calendar for the day's appointments and checking in with a couple of coworkers regarding our work assignments.
Other than the basic routines that I have made attempts to give myself more structure. I've followed the Flylady system of housecleaning from time to time. And I've also written down an end-of-the-evening routine for me to follow before I go to bed that includes picking out my outfit for the following day. But unfortunately, I've had a difficult time sticking to these routines. I'll typically try them for a few days, but then miss a day or three and give up. Admittedly, I blame the routine for being too stringent rather than correctly faulting my perfectionism for scrapping the routine altogether.
In addition, I also worry about routines getting in the way of being my freewheeling, spontaneous self. As an unmarried lady without kids, I'm often reminded by my coupled friends with offspring that it must be nice to have free time to do whatever I wish. As they often say, I could jet off to Paris whenever I desired! But realistically, even though it's great to have options, there's also such a thing as having too many options. By not having a routine to plan my week, I often end up failing to make decisions about ways that I want to spend my time, which then result in not making plans. And when that happens, I get cranky. That's not fun!
I'm going to experiment with establishing some more structure for myself this week. I have a few ideas of things I want to implement: 1) picking out my work outfits before I go to bed at night, because I spend too much time ironing and/or searching for a shoe that managed to separate from its mate; 2) answering emails (work and personal) by the end of the day that I receive them, because I say "I'll get to that," but then fail to do so; 3) use my calendar to plan my personal schedule. Regarding this last item, I'm finally back to using one again. But that's another story for another day... :-)
R. is not obsessive-compulsive. Rather, he just likes having structure in his life. A lot. If you were to ask R. about the recent vacation that he and his girlfriend took, he would certainly tell you how much they enjoyed the trip. But he would also tell you that he is happy to be back to his daily routine.
When I think about R.'s structured life, I'm of two minds. On the one hand, I think that having a routine like that is boring. His schedule doesn't permit going for a walk on a lovely day. He also declines lunch invitiations from his friends from time to time so that he can maintain his routine. I can't imagine not being able to treat my lunch hour as my own play-by-ear time of the day where I get to do whatever I feel like doing, instead of treating it as a time to fulfill a self-imposed requirement.
On the other hand, I wouldn't mind to have an ounce of the structure that he has. (Just an ounce, though.) I like the idea of having more structure that allows things to happen rather automatically. Presently, I have routines of sorts for my mornings, both at home and at work. In both cases, these series of actions seemed to come to be over time out of convenience and effiency rather than any sort of conscious planning. For example, at work I fill my water glass while my computer boots up, followed by a review of my calendar for the day's appointments and checking in with a couple of coworkers regarding our work assignments.
Other than the basic routines that I have made attempts to give myself more structure. I've followed the Flylady system of housecleaning from time to time. And I've also written down an end-of-the-evening routine for me to follow before I go to bed that includes picking out my outfit for the following day. But unfortunately, I've had a difficult time sticking to these routines. I'll typically try them for a few days, but then miss a day or three and give up. Admittedly, I blame the routine for being too stringent rather than correctly faulting my perfectionism for scrapping the routine altogether.
In addition, I also worry about routines getting in the way of being my freewheeling, spontaneous self. As an unmarried lady without kids, I'm often reminded by my coupled friends with offspring that it must be nice to have free time to do whatever I wish. As they often say, I could jet off to Paris whenever I desired! But realistically, even though it's great to have options, there's also such a thing as having too many options. By not having a routine to plan my week, I often end up failing to make decisions about ways that I want to spend my time, which then result in not making plans. And when that happens, I get cranky. That's not fun!
I'm going to experiment with establishing some more structure for myself this week. I have a few ideas of things I want to implement: 1) picking out my work outfits before I go to bed at night, because I spend too much time ironing and/or searching for a shoe that managed to separate from its mate; 2) answering emails (work and personal) by the end of the day that I receive them, because I say "I'll get to that," but then fail to do so; 3) use my calendar to plan my personal schedule. Regarding this last item, I'm finally back to using one again. But that's another story for another day... :-)
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Look who's blogging again!
Hey folks! I'm back. Over the past several months, I've made several attempts to write some epic blog post to herald my return. But duh, I have ADD, which means that these attempts remained half-finished in my drafts folder. I'm sure that many of you can relate!
It's been almost 9 months since I last typed to you, and I've many of stories to share. Heck, there's no way that amount of time can go by without any of what I call "Great Moments in ADD-Ness". Despite the radio silence of posts here, I've been itching to share stories of all sorts, yet felt personally pressured to come up with some big clever and witty verbiage to say I was back. But you know what? I'm not going to do that. Let's move on from this hiatus!
It's been almost 9 months since I last typed to you, and I've many of stories to share. Heck, there's no way that amount of time can go by without any of what I call "Great Moments in ADD-Ness". Despite the radio silence of posts here, I've been itching to share stories of all sorts, yet felt personally pressured to come up with some big clever and witty verbiage to say I was back. But you know what? I'm not going to do that. Let's move on from this hiatus!
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Beer and pudding pops
As I shopped for groceries one evening last week, I excitedly discovered pudding pops in freezer case. For the uninitiated, I'm referring to frozen pudding on a stick for which Bill Cosby once served as a spokesmodel. As a kid, I enjoyed pudding pops perhaps more than any type of frozen treat. It, of course, thrilled me beyond belief to see that they have made a comeback in the 21st century.
But just before I reached into the freezer case to snag a box of pudding pops, I noticed the cost: $4.99 for a box of 12. My hand then retreated from the handle of the freezer case.
I thought to myself that it was crazy to pay that much for pudding pops. I think I figured that they should cost $3, so $4.99 was exorbitant to me. Never mind that I hadn't had a pudding pop since the Reagan adminstration.
Thinking back to earlier in the evening, I realized the irony of my situation. I'd been out with a friend and drank one beer, which cost $4 and a $1 tip. Thus, I paid $5 for an after work beer, which I occasionally have...and never think twice about its cost.
So why did I get all indecisive about buying the pudding pops? Probably because the thing that I wanted very much was staring me in the face and actually having it was too overwhelming to comprehend.
Perhaps you're thinking that I'm a lady of low expectations to have such an emotional reaction to pudding pops, but I'm pretty certain that you do the same thing. There's likely something that you want, but it takes a bit more investment to procure or achieve than you had originally anticipated. It could be a purchase, but it also could be catching up with an old and awesome friend with whom you haven't been in touch with in a few years. Yesterday, in the U.S., it could have been voting for president. Or maybe it's updating your resume. Or learning how to knit. Or, if you've been me over the last couple of months, it could be blogging.
By having ADD, we often excuse ourself for not achieving what we want. I'm not talking about the "shoulds", as my ADD coach would say; that is, things we feel obligated to do. I am referring to the things in life that deep down, you really want. If you're like me and were diagnosed with ADD as an adult, you probably have an impressive track record of things that you started and never finished, as well as the squashed confidence that's a residual effect.
As a result, you take the easy way out or accept a lesser substitute for what you really want. I'll use the previous examples from two paragraphs ago as examples. So, instead of contacting your old friend, you write "hope to catch up soon!" on a holiday card and spend your time listening to the pal (of sorts) who calls when s/he needs an audience for her/his latest drama. Or maybe you decided to drive straight home from work yesterday because you live in one of the bluest states and you were planning to vote for Obama. And why try to get another job when the economy sucks? Or try to knit a sweater when there are plenty available at TJ Maxx? Or, if you're me, assert that you have no time to blog yet plenty to watch "What Not to Wear?"
In my earlier example with the pudding pops, I illogically felt like it didn't make sense to buy a box because the price differed from what I expected it to be. And I almost let this ridiculous notion overrule some other compelling points:
Were they the delicious pudding pops that I remembered from my youth? Totally.
Was I as excited to see them as I am to see the new James Bond movie? Heck yeah.
Did I have any issue with parting with $5 for my postwork beer? Of course not.
How we each spend our money, time, affection, attention, calories, and so forth is our owndecision. Are you using these resources on the people and things that you know will enhance your life and delight you? Or are you squandering them on people/things that fill your time or squander these resources?
With ADD, it's easy to accept second best. We're all used to everything having a higher degree of difficulty than what non-ADDers have to handle. But at the same time, don't use your ADD to justify not setting out to achieve anything that you want in life, small or large. If you do, that makes as much sense as a lady who shivers in the frozen foods aisle for way too many minutes as she grapples with the idea of shelling out an extra $2 for something that will keep her happy for a week.
But just before I reached into the freezer case to snag a box of pudding pops, I noticed the cost: $4.99 for a box of 12. My hand then retreated from the handle of the freezer case.
I thought to myself that it was crazy to pay that much for pudding pops. I think I figured that they should cost $3, so $4.99 was exorbitant to me. Never mind that I hadn't had a pudding pop since the Reagan adminstration.
Thinking back to earlier in the evening, I realized the irony of my situation. I'd been out with a friend and drank one beer, which cost $4 and a $1 tip. Thus, I paid $5 for an after work beer, which I occasionally have...and never think twice about its cost.
So why did I get all indecisive about buying the pudding pops? Probably because the thing that I wanted very much was staring me in the face and actually having it was too overwhelming to comprehend.
Perhaps you're thinking that I'm a lady of low expectations to have such an emotional reaction to pudding pops, but I'm pretty certain that you do the same thing. There's likely something that you want, but it takes a bit more investment to procure or achieve than you had originally anticipated. It could be a purchase, but it also could be catching up with an old and awesome friend with whom you haven't been in touch with in a few years. Yesterday, in the U.S., it could have been voting for president. Or maybe it's updating your resume. Or learning how to knit. Or, if you've been me over the last couple of months, it could be blogging.
By having ADD, we often excuse ourself for not achieving what we want. I'm not talking about the "shoulds", as my ADD coach would say; that is, things we feel obligated to do. I am referring to the things in life that deep down, you really want. If you're like me and were diagnosed with ADD as an adult, you probably have an impressive track record of things that you started and never finished, as well as the squashed confidence that's a residual effect.
As a result, you take the easy way out or accept a lesser substitute for what you really want. I'll use the previous examples from two paragraphs ago as examples. So, instead of contacting your old friend, you write "hope to catch up soon!" on a holiday card and spend your time listening to the pal (of sorts) who calls when s/he needs an audience for her/his latest drama. Or maybe you decided to drive straight home from work yesterday because you live in one of the bluest states and you were planning to vote for Obama. And why try to get another job when the economy sucks? Or try to knit a sweater when there are plenty available at TJ Maxx? Or, if you're me, assert that you have no time to blog yet plenty to watch "What Not to Wear?"
In my earlier example with the pudding pops, I illogically felt like it didn't make sense to buy a box because the price differed from what I expected it to be. And I almost let this ridiculous notion overrule some other compelling points:
Were they the delicious pudding pops that I remembered from my youth? Totally.
Was I as excited to see them as I am to see the new James Bond movie? Heck yeah.
Did I have any issue with parting with $5 for my postwork beer? Of course not.
How we each spend our money, time, affection, attention, calories, and so forth is our owndecision. Are you using these resources on the people and things that you know will enhance your life and delight you? Or are you squandering them on people/things that fill your time or squander these resources?
With ADD, it's easy to accept second best. We're all used to everything having a higher degree of difficulty than what non-ADDers have to handle. But at the same time, don't use your ADD to justify not setting out to achieve anything that you want in life, small or large. If you do, that makes as much sense as a lady who shivers in the frozen foods aisle for way too many minutes as she grapples with the idea of shelling out an extra $2 for something that will keep her happy for a week.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Time for the important stuff...
My all-time least favorite work assignment hung over my head like a dark cloud for 2 weeks. It involves cross-referencing and organizing papers. Many many papers. Which is also known as the Nightmare on ADD Street. Usually, it's a task that I could handle intermittently while I completed other work. But in this case, I had a little over a week to finish it, and thinking about the task at hand made me want to down a bottle of Tums.
I began the hell assignment on a Tuesday, and I got a small bit of it done. At the end of the day, I promised myself that Wednesday would be the day that I would knock off a big chunk of it. But Wednesday came and went, and I yet again finished just a small part of it.
I left work on Wednesday feeling rather defeated. The thought of the work I had to do hung over my head like a dark cloud encircled with buzzards. I knew I needed to figure out a better way of getting the work accomplished. As I mulled over options for a "better way," the most novel idea struck me. One really effective way to finish the project would be to -- get this -- actually work on it.
I knew I hadn't been slacking off at work. However, I knew that I had been quick to respond to every email that landed in my inbox over the past couple of days. I also knew that I'd agreed to give a hand to a few others who needed assistance with some random, minor assignments that they had. In other words, I'd put everything else in front of the #1 priority that I needed to complete.
And so, I decided on Thursday to perform some self-recon on the amount of time that I spent on the tormenting assignment. Using the Journal feature of Microsoft Outlook as my timer, I started when I worked on the assignment, and stopped it when I worked on anything else. When lunchtime rolled around, a good 3+ hours after I arrived at the office, I checked the amount of time I'd spent on my "priority" assignment.
36 minutes.
I had spent the rest of my time on work of lesser priority, helping some coworkers, and yes, going for coffee. I maybe spent just 15 minutes on the coffee run. But still, 15 minutes was almost half the time that I spent on what I had deemed to be my #1 priority. Or had I actually deemed it to be my priority?
I think that, for ADDers, time slips through our fingers in a unique way. If we decide that something's important, then that's where our goes. And that's good, because we get to focus our energies on exactly what we want to do. However, that's also bad because there are some things that we must do, like taxes or hell assignments or buying groceries, whether or not they truly interest us. Certainly, you can get H&R Block to do your taxes or even have your groceries delivered. But you still have to decide to toss your receipts into a shoe box and hop in the car, or log onto the grocery delivery Web site.
When I went out at lunch on that Thursday, I thought about the face that having the assignment done would be like lifting a huge anvil off from my chest. I wouldn't walk around all dramatic, as if all the world's problems were mine to solve. And thinking about that feeling of, well, being free from the madness definitely provided me with motivation.
I returned from lunch optimistic that completing the assignment was within my reach. I continued to use the timer to keep myself accountable. Doing so definitely helped, because every time I paused it, it made me think for a minute whether my reason for pausing time merited my diversion from my assignment.
Indeed, at the 11th hour, I completed the assignment. Today, I started a new assignment that I enjoy so much that I didn't even consider using the timer. And because of this experience, I keep thinking about what I believe to be important and how much time I spend on it. Wow. Talk about having something to ponder...
I began the hell assignment on a Tuesday, and I got a small bit of it done. At the end of the day, I promised myself that Wednesday would be the day that I would knock off a big chunk of it. But Wednesday came and went, and I yet again finished just a small part of it.
I left work on Wednesday feeling rather defeated. The thought of the work I had to do hung over my head like a dark cloud encircled with buzzards. I knew I needed to figure out a better way of getting the work accomplished. As I mulled over options for a "better way," the most novel idea struck me. One really effective way to finish the project would be to -- get this -- actually work on it.
I knew I hadn't been slacking off at work. However, I knew that I had been quick to respond to every email that landed in my inbox over the past couple of days. I also knew that I'd agreed to give a hand to a few others who needed assistance with some random, minor assignments that they had. In other words, I'd put everything else in front of the #1 priority that I needed to complete.
And so, I decided on Thursday to perform some self-recon on the amount of time that I spent on the tormenting assignment. Using the Journal feature of Microsoft Outlook as my timer, I started when I worked on the assignment, and stopped it when I worked on anything else. When lunchtime rolled around, a good 3+ hours after I arrived at the office, I checked the amount of time I'd spent on my "priority" assignment.
36 minutes.
I had spent the rest of my time on work of lesser priority, helping some coworkers, and yes, going for coffee. I maybe spent just 15 minutes on the coffee run. But still, 15 minutes was almost half the time that I spent on what I had deemed to be my #1 priority. Or had I actually deemed it to be my priority?
I think that, for ADDers, time slips through our fingers in a unique way. If we decide that something's important, then that's where our goes. And that's good, because we get to focus our energies on exactly what we want to do. However, that's also bad because there are some things that we must do, like taxes or hell assignments or buying groceries, whether or not they truly interest us. Certainly, you can get H&R Block to do your taxes or even have your groceries delivered. But you still have to decide to toss your receipts into a shoe box and hop in the car, or log onto the grocery delivery Web site.
When I went out at lunch on that Thursday, I thought about the face that having the assignment done would be like lifting a huge anvil off from my chest. I wouldn't walk around all dramatic, as if all the world's problems were mine to solve. And thinking about that feeling of, well, being free from the madness definitely provided me with motivation.
I returned from lunch optimistic that completing the assignment was within my reach. I continued to use the timer to keep myself accountable. Doing so definitely helped, because every time I paused it, it made me think for a minute whether my reason for pausing time merited my diversion from my assignment.
Indeed, at the 11th hour, I completed the assignment. Today, I started a new assignment that I enjoy so much that I didn't even consider using the timer. And because of this experience, I keep thinking about what I believe to be important and how much time I spend on it. Wow. Talk about having something to ponder...
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
I now pronounce me properly attired
Hey folks, I’m back. Among the typical bumper crop of summer activities, I also had three weddings and their associated festivities to attend. Of course, these pose the typical coordination challenges to the ADDer, such as returning RSVP cards, showing up on time, buying gifts, and making travel arrangements. Oddly enough, I seem to have little problem with those tasks. Finding a dress to wear is what vexes me.
Initially, I didn’t think that finding frocks would pose a challenge. For wedding #1, I figured that the dress from my high school reunion would work well. I tried it on, and it fit and flattered. Crisis averted! For wedding #2, I mulled over wearing the dress I’d worn to a friend’s wedding a few years ago. I hesitated to try it on because I’d been extremely tan from a tropical vacation when I’d worn it. But I tried it on, and it fit and flattered my pasty self. Crisis averted!
And then there was wedding #3, a fancier evening affair that required a shopping trip. In true ADD-Libber fashion, I waited until 5 days before the event to make my purchase. Deciding shopping at one location would facilitate the task, I squandered some of my $4.00 gasoline and hightailed it to one of the giant suburban malls.
In one store, I plucked armfuls of dresses that met my vague criteria (classy but not stuffy, alluring but not slutty) from a bountiful sales rack. I hated them all. I felt the same about the non- discounted dresses. In another store, an adorable sales associate aided my pursuit. The dozen and a half that the lady and I selected failed to flatter, including the satiny number that looked incredibly attractive on the hanger but, on me, appeared like someone restrained me with an accordion.
Swallowing my pride, I made the ultimate in desperate moves. I went to Macy's.
When I go to Macy's, it's the equivalent of a Lifetime movie character who hocks her grandmother's diamond ring to pay for her crack habit: the epitome of rock-bottom desperation. I’d lost my enthusiasm for Macy’s when it subsumed my local and beloved department store chain. And its fitting rooms make me furious: chicly remodeled entryways lead to grungy little pens that hadn’t seen a paint job since the Soviet Union broke up.
After hunting the racks and hoisting my prey over one arm, I stepped into a fitting room with a giant pile of clothes that resembled the textile equivalent of San Francisco's World Famous Bushman. I overcame the fear that the pile would come to life and slipped on what likely was dress #46. Innocuous on the hanger, its v-neck reached my waist. And not in a good way. I laughed at my reflection because, in addition to my mussed hair from all of the try-ons, my eyes were bloodshot and the day’s makeup had faded away. Courtney Love would even think twice about attending a church ceremony attired the way that I was.
That moment of humor in the dressing room calmed me down a bit. I’d worked myself into such a frenzy over acquiring a dress. Oh, the drama! I made my only purchase of the night, a lemonade in the food court, and headed home.
Even though I intended to abandon the dress issue for the rest of the night, I happily did not. To relax a bit, I organized some of my digital photos on my computer. These included a few from a recent New Years Eve…when I attended a ball...in an adorable black dress with beading and a swishy skirt…that, wait, still hung in my closet? Yes! It was there, behind a few skirts that I’ve been meaning to get altered for years. I tried it on, and it fit and flattered. Crisis averted!
And here’s the moral of the story: I can’t see straight when I get all worked up. That’s likely true for you as well, if you have ADD. So next time something like this happens to me, I’m going to try to stop what I’m doing, and get a lemonade, and trust that things work out. Of course, the challenge will be to figure out, in the moment, that I need to do this!
Initially, I didn’t think that finding frocks would pose a challenge. For wedding #1, I figured that the dress from my high school reunion would work well. I tried it on, and it fit and flattered. Crisis averted! For wedding #2, I mulled over wearing the dress I’d worn to a friend’s wedding a few years ago. I hesitated to try it on because I’d been extremely tan from a tropical vacation when I’d worn it. But I tried it on, and it fit and flattered my pasty self. Crisis averted!
And then there was wedding #3, a fancier evening affair that required a shopping trip. In true ADD-Libber fashion, I waited until 5 days before the event to make my purchase. Deciding shopping at one location would facilitate the task, I squandered some of my $4.00 gasoline and hightailed it to one of the giant suburban malls.
In one store, I plucked armfuls of dresses that met my vague criteria (classy but not stuffy, alluring but not slutty) from a bountiful sales rack. I hated them all. I felt the same about the non- discounted dresses. In another store, an adorable sales associate aided my pursuit. The dozen and a half that the lady and I selected failed to flatter, including the satiny number that looked incredibly attractive on the hanger but, on me, appeared like someone restrained me with an accordion.
Swallowing my pride, I made the ultimate in desperate moves. I went to Macy's.
When I go to Macy's, it's the equivalent of a Lifetime movie character who hocks her grandmother's diamond ring to pay for her crack habit: the epitome of rock-bottom desperation. I’d lost my enthusiasm for Macy’s when it subsumed my local and beloved department store chain. And its fitting rooms make me furious: chicly remodeled entryways lead to grungy little pens that hadn’t seen a paint job since the Soviet Union broke up.
After hunting the racks and hoisting my prey over one arm, I stepped into a fitting room with a giant pile of clothes that resembled the textile equivalent of San Francisco's World Famous Bushman. I overcame the fear that the pile would come to life and slipped on what likely was dress #46. Innocuous on the hanger, its v-neck reached my waist. And not in a good way. I laughed at my reflection because, in addition to my mussed hair from all of the try-ons, my eyes were bloodshot and the day’s makeup had faded away. Courtney Love would even think twice about attending a church ceremony attired the way that I was.
That moment of humor in the dressing room calmed me down a bit. I’d worked myself into such a frenzy over acquiring a dress. Oh, the drama! I made my only purchase of the night, a lemonade in the food court, and headed home.
Even though I intended to abandon the dress issue for the rest of the night, I happily did not. To relax a bit, I organized some of my digital photos on my computer. These included a few from a recent New Years Eve…when I attended a ball...in an adorable black dress with beading and a swishy skirt…that, wait, still hung in my closet? Yes! It was there, behind a few skirts that I’ve been meaning to get altered for years. I tried it on, and it fit and flattered. Crisis averted!
And here’s the moral of the story: I can’t see straight when I get all worked up. That’s likely true for you as well, if you have ADD. So next time something like this happens to me, I’m going to try to stop what I’m doing, and get a lemonade, and trust that things work out. Of course, the challenge will be to figure out, in the moment, that I need to do this!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Post Deadline Ennui Syndrome
Last week, I had a big ol' deadline at work that I had to push to meet, and indeed met it. The week before, I had a presentation to prepare. And this week? A bunch of non-pressing loose ends to tie up and some minor assignments. Yawn.
No question, work that lacks a specific deadline is the nemesis of the ADDer. And that's why it's 2:00AM and I'm blogging. The thought of going to work later this morning, well, bores me. Never mind that my salary keeps the lights on and feeds me. Without a big and defined challenge in front of my face, I check out.
There's times that I wish I could have the mindset of a non-ADDer and look at all work, deadline or none, as stuff that needs to be done and just go and apply for myself. However, when it comes to meeting deadlines, nobody knocks it out of the park like an ADDer. Our brain chemicals get us fired up for the those 11th hour assignments. In contrast, I've seen non-ADDers wilt under the pressure.
In the meantime, I've got a handful of hours to scrounge up some motivation to go to work. Maybe it'll come in my dreams?!
No question, work that lacks a specific deadline is the nemesis of the ADDer. And that's why it's 2:00AM and I'm blogging. The thought of going to work later this morning, well, bores me. Never mind that my salary keeps the lights on and feeds me. Without a big and defined challenge in front of my face, I check out.
There's times that I wish I could have the mindset of a non-ADDer and look at all work, deadline or none, as stuff that needs to be done and just go and apply for myself. However, when it comes to meeting deadlines, nobody knocks it out of the park like an ADDer. Our brain chemicals get us fired up for the those 11th hour assignments. In contrast, I've seen non-ADDers wilt under the pressure.
In the meantime, I've got a handful of hours to scrounge up some motivation to go to work. Maybe it'll come in my dreams?!
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
It's not about the bike...or the dress...
I was away for a bit a week or so ago, which perhaps you noticed! While I was out of town, I did some bicycling and had a great inspiring moment. Or so I thought. Sometimes, you need to see inspiration in action to believe it.
I mistakenly thought that taking a bike ride near the beach would make for a pleasant and flat ride. Sea level's a low elevation, right? Ah, but the path I chose managed to have way more incline than decline. Pedaling up these hills certainly provided me with an exquisite view of the seascape, but my quads and calves certainly weren't savoring their surroundings. Accordingly, I shifted to a lower gear to make it easier for my legs to pedal. When the road flattened a bit, I added more gear. But I certainly took off gear when the incline challenged my muscles.
After several ups and downs and ups and ups, I discovered a learning moment as clear as the blue sky above me: when things get difficult, make things easier for yourself. Don't heap on more (in this case, gear), because you'll make your tough road even tougher. Making things easier means you get yourself up that hill.
No question - all of these things seem obvious. But whenever we ADDers are in the thick of whatever turmoil we find ourselves in, these notions manage to escape us. We're quite good at getting wrapped up in one thing, which begets another, which begets...well, you get the idea.
The lighbulb in my head burned brightly thanks to all of those pithy thoughts, and shortly thereafter I thought that I needed to blog all about these fantastic thoughts the moment I got home. But an even better idea superseded it:
Try it out for yourself and then report on the results.
Little did I know that I'd get such an opportunity the following evening. I was attending a wedding that following weekend, and in true ADD Libber fashion, waited until the last minute to find a frock. I waited until the last minute because I'm picky about dresses. So I figured I'd squander some of the $4.00/gallon fossil fuel in my car, hit one of the colossal suburban malls, and in no time I'd land the perfect outfit. Right?
Wrong.
Gracious salesclerks suggested volumes of frocks for me to audition in the triple mirrors of dressing rooms. Each dress, unfortunately, had its issues: skirt too straight, skirt too full, way too high cut, way too low cut, too slutty, too prissy. As the evening at the mall wore on, I transformed from a upbeat, optimistic shopper to a bitter castoff from "America's Next Top Model". I started dragging dresses to the fitting rooms that I didn't like, in the hope that they would fit and I'd deal with how they looked at another time.
Dragging dresses left me bedraggled. And then, the lightbulb from the previous day lit up. I thought of those pithy thoughts about taking off some of the load when the going gets tough. Perhaps it was time for me to call off my search for the evening?
At first, I balked at the idea because of the gas I used and the time crunch that remained. But then I thought, "What is it that I really want right now?" And you know what? At that moment, I didn't want a-line or taffeta. I wanted a lemonade. So I went to the food court and bought one, which ended up being my only purchase of the night. Shortly thereafter, I headed back to my car. I decided to make a plan when I got home.
Also in true ADD Libber fashion, I didn't make that plan when I got home. Instead, I downloaded pictures from my little trip onto my computer. While the camera transferred the pictures, I flipped through some random photographs. Those included some from a New Year's ball I went to a couple years ago...and I remembered that the awesome dress I wore was still in my closet!
I'd forgotten about it, which is odd because I own few dresses. I tossed it on and preened in the mirror from all angles. It still fit. Perfectly. And it still fit perfectly when I wore it last weekend when my friends tied the knot.
I can't guarantee you'll have a Cinderella moment and find a dress or Prince Charming or even a post-midnight pumpkin when you need one. But why not downshift when the going gets tough?
I mistakenly thought that taking a bike ride near the beach would make for a pleasant and flat ride. Sea level's a low elevation, right? Ah, but the path I chose managed to have way more incline than decline. Pedaling up these hills certainly provided me with an exquisite view of the seascape, but my quads and calves certainly weren't savoring their surroundings. Accordingly, I shifted to a lower gear to make it easier for my legs to pedal. When the road flattened a bit, I added more gear. But I certainly took off gear when the incline challenged my muscles.
After several ups and downs and ups and ups, I discovered a learning moment as clear as the blue sky above me: when things get difficult, make things easier for yourself. Don't heap on more (in this case, gear), because you'll make your tough road even tougher. Making things easier means you get yourself up that hill.
No question - all of these things seem obvious. But whenever we ADDers are in the thick of whatever turmoil we find ourselves in, these notions manage to escape us. We're quite good at getting wrapped up in one thing, which begets another, which begets...well, you get the idea.
The lighbulb in my head burned brightly thanks to all of those pithy thoughts, and shortly thereafter I thought that I needed to blog all about these fantastic thoughts the moment I got home. But an even better idea superseded it:
Try it out for yourself and then report on the results.
Little did I know that I'd get such an opportunity the following evening. I was attending a wedding that following weekend, and in true ADD Libber fashion, waited until the last minute to find a frock. I waited until the last minute because I'm picky about dresses. So I figured I'd squander some of the $4.00/gallon fossil fuel in my car, hit one of the colossal suburban malls, and in no time I'd land the perfect outfit. Right?
Wrong.
Gracious salesclerks suggested volumes of frocks for me to audition in the triple mirrors of dressing rooms. Each dress, unfortunately, had its issues: skirt too straight, skirt too full, way too high cut, way too low cut, too slutty, too prissy. As the evening at the mall wore on, I transformed from a upbeat, optimistic shopper to a bitter castoff from "America's Next Top Model". I started dragging dresses to the fitting rooms that I didn't like, in the hope that they would fit and I'd deal with how they looked at another time.
Dragging dresses left me bedraggled. And then, the lightbulb from the previous day lit up. I thought of those pithy thoughts about taking off some of the load when the going gets tough. Perhaps it was time for me to call off my search for the evening?
At first, I balked at the idea because of the gas I used and the time crunch that remained. But then I thought, "What is it that I really want right now?" And you know what? At that moment, I didn't want a-line or taffeta. I wanted a lemonade. So I went to the food court and bought one, which ended up being my only purchase of the night. Shortly thereafter, I headed back to my car. I decided to make a plan when I got home.
Also in true ADD Libber fashion, I didn't make that plan when I got home. Instead, I downloaded pictures from my little trip onto my computer. While the camera transferred the pictures, I flipped through some random photographs. Those included some from a New Year's ball I went to a couple years ago...and I remembered that the awesome dress I wore was still in my closet!
I'd forgotten about it, which is odd because I own few dresses. I tossed it on and preened in the mirror from all angles. It still fit. Perfectly. And it still fit perfectly when I wore it last weekend when my friends tied the knot.
I can't guarantee you'll have a Cinderella moment and find a dress or Prince Charming or even a post-midnight pumpkin when you need one. But why not downshift when the going gets tough?
Monday, June 23, 2008
Don't believe in yesterday.
While parting company with my friends C. (a guy) and P. (a lady) one recent evening, C. wrapped me in a bear hug and proceeded to lift me off the floor. The instant that my feet left the ground, I had the immediate thought that many women unfortunately have: Put me down, please! I had no issue with C. elevating me, but I do have issues about my weight. So I said to C., "Hey, don't do that." To which he replied:
"Why? You're not heavy?"
I shot a look of surprise to P., who concurred with C. by exclaiming, "You're not!"
Well, then!
Several years ago, before I knew both C. and P., I weighed a lot more than I do now. Even though I still have some more weight to lose to reach my goal, my mind is usually still stuck in the days when eating stuff covered with whipped cream served as the antidote to my misery. And whenever I chat with my latest crush, I sometimes think of myself as that awkward eighth grader I once was, complete with giant glasses, braces, and (holy smokes!) leg warmers.
My ADD, and perhaps yours, provides ample examples of other messages in the mind that keep repeating over and over. For me, any time that I'm late for work, procrastinate on responding to an email, arrive 10 minutes late to meet someone, or get a late fee on a bill, I instinctively think of mypre-ADD days when the aforementioned stuff happened pretty regularly. As a result, a litany of negative messages bombard my head. So when I'm late for work, all I can think of is how I yet again failed to get to the office on time. Never mind the fact that I stay late to make up the time and also get my work done. I still make myself feel bad for something that only I judge myself for.
Similarly, I judged my friend C. for the comment that he made. I felt that he said I wasn't heavy only to indulge me. However, C.'s not one to sugarcoat his thoughts and realized that perhaps he was correct. When I saw him a few days later, I mentioned that his comment made me feel good. But just for good insanely neurotic measure, I asked him to confirm that he wasn't just B.S.ing me. C. looked at me with one eyebrow askew and said, "No," in a tone of voice that would have been the same had I asked him to swap Super Bowl tickets for a marathon viewing of Lifetime movies.
This vignette has made me think a lot about how my thoughts often don't reflect who I am now. And how about you? How many of your thought patterns have to do with the you who you used to be? And how come they're still hanging around?
"Why? You're not heavy?"
I shot a look of surprise to P., who concurred with C. by exclaiming, "You're not!"
Well, then!
Several years ago, before I knew both C. and P., I weighed a lot more than I do now. Even though I still have some more weight to lose to reach my goal, my mind is usually still stuck in the days when eating stuff covered with whipped cream served as the antidote to my misery. And whenever I chat with my latest crush, I sometimes think of myself as that awkward eighth grader I once was, complete with giant glasses, braces, and (holy smokes!) leg warmers.
My ADD, and perhaps yours, provides ample examples of other messages in the mind that keep repeating over and over. For me, any time that I'm late for work, procrastinate on responding to an email, arrive 10 minutes late to meet someone, or get a late fee on a bill, I instinctively think of mypre-ADD days when the aforementioned stuff happened pretty regularly. As a result, a litany of negative messages bombard my head. So when I'm late for work, all I can think of is how I yet again failed to get to the office on time. Never mind the fact that I stay late to make up the time and also get my work done. I still make myself feel bad for something that only I judge myself for.
Similarly, I judged my friend C. for the comment that he made. I felt that he said I wasn't heavy only to indulge me. However, C.'s not one to sugarcoat his thoughts and realized that perhaps he was correct. When I saw him a few days later, I mentioned that his comment made me feel good. But just for good insanely neurotic measure, I asked him to confirm that he wasn't just B.S.ing me. C. looked at me with one eyebrow askew and said, "No," in a tone of voice that would have been the same had I asked him to swap Super Bowl tickets for a marathon viewing of Lifetime movies.
This vignette has made me think a lot about how my thoughts often don't reflect who I am now. And how about you? How many of your thought patterns have to do with the you who you used to be? And how come they're still hanging around?
Monday, June 16, 2008
The Sleep Cure*
Last evening, I switched on "60 Minutes" and found it pretty much devoted to one topic for the entire program instead of the usual three segments. If you didn't see it, you're probably thinking that it covered Iraq or the oil crisis or the mortgage meltdown or the Presidential candidates. Nope. Instead it covered something even more important.
Sleep.
That surprised me. Personally, I had my money on global warming. But as I watched the fabulous Lesley Stahl delve into the subject in her usual engaging manner, I became a true believer. We don't have a more essential function than getting our rest. Link here to read or watch segments of the broadcast, and I'm sure you'll agree. My takeaway? I don't know when exactly the polar ice caps will melt, but I do know that, if I don't get enough sleep, I'm screwed.
Given all of the sage advice I heard, you may guess what this ADDer did later that night. Go to bed early? Nah, that's too obvious and sane. Rather, I stayed up waaaay too late on the Internets, and got maybe 5 hours of sleep. I would have had less sleep but I didn't hear my alarm, which led me to oversleep. I got to work an hour late, something I haven't done in years.
The moral of the story is definitely do as I say, not as I do!
One of the most compelling parts of the "60 Minutes" broadcast came in a point that compared sleep-deprived brains to brains of folks with psychiatric disorders. When they took MRIs of the people and their respective brains, the brains of the sleep-deprived showed the same functional deficits as the brains of the folks with psychiatric disorders. In the "how does this affect you" category, if you take a brain saddled with ADD and deprive it from sleep, you've made things super-difficult for yourself.
Intellectually, I know all of that. But suppose it's after midnight and you're reading clicking around IMDB to read the filmographies of the entire cast of Oceans 11 AND you have ADD, your brain doesn't want to you hit the off switch on the computer. Maybe you'll let yourself pick one more actor, but then you find that you can't choose between Casey Affleck and Bernie Mac. You decide to pick Casey, which tempts you to click on Good Will Hunting, which tempts you to figure out who played the Harvard guy with the blond ponytail...
...which then brings you until 3:00AM. In a few hours, your kids will want breakfast and your employer wants you to work.
Even though I know that sleep is good for the ol' noggin, the thing that will actually pry me offline is much more superficial: my looks. If I get less that 6 hours of sleep, which unfortunately I often do on weekdays, I end up looking pasty with big dark circles under my eyes that take expensive concealer to somewhat cover up. I also retain lots of water in my belly when I don't get enough sleep, which makes getting dressed in the morning oh so much fun.
I'm going to try try try to get enough shuteye, at least tonight. I don't want to say that from hereon, I'm going to get ample sleep on a weeknight, because I know I'll get annoyed with myself if I slip up. I know that I'll be sharper at work and get less snippy with people. But really, if getting more sleep means I can spend my concealer budget at Sephora on lipstick instead, then that's an even better perk.
*Not to be confused with the sleep cure in "The Valley of The Dolls," which, by the way, is the best trashy novel ever written.
Sleep.
That surprised me. Personally, I had my money on global warming. But as I watched the fabulous Lesley Stahl delve into the subject in her usual engaging manner, I became a true believer. We don't have a more essential function than getting our rest. Link here to read or watch segments of the broadcast, and I'm sure you'll agree. My takeaway? I don't know when exactly the polar ice caps will melt, but I do know that, if I don't get enough sleep, I'm screwed.
Given all of the sage advice I heard, you may guess what this ADDer did later that night. Go to bed early? Nah, that's too obvious and sane. Rather, I stayed up waaaay too late on the Internets, and got maybe 5 hours of sleep. I would have had less sleep but I didn't hear my alarm, which led me to oversleep. I got to work an hour late, something I haven't done in years.
The moral of the story is definitely do as I say, not as I do!
One of the most compelling parts of the "60 Minutes" broadcast came in a point that compared sleep-deprived brains to brains of folks with psychiatric disorders. When they took MRIs of the people and their respective brains, the brains of the sleep-deprived showed the same functional deficits as the brains of the folks with psychiatric disorders. In the "how does this affect you" category, if you take a brain saddled with ADD and deprive it from sleep, you've made things super-difficult for yourself.
Intellectually, I know all of that. But suppose it's after midnight and you're reading clicking around IMDB to read the filmographies of the entire cast of Oceans 11 AND you have ADD, your brain doesn't want to you hit the off switch on the computer. Maybe you'll let yourself pick one more actor, but then you find that you can't choose between Casey Affleck and Bernie Mac. You decide to pick Casey, which tempts you to click on Good Will Hunting, which tempts you to figure out who played the Harvard guy with the blond ponytail...
...which then brings you until 3:00AM. In a few hours, your kids will want breakfast and your employer wants you to work.
Even though I know that sleep is good for the ol' noggin, the thing that will actually pry me offline is much more superficial: my looks. If I get less that 6 hours of sleep, which unfortunately I often do on weekdays, I end up looking pasty with big dark circles under my eyes that take expensive concealer to somewhat cover up. I also retain lots of water in my belly when I don't get enough sleep, which makes getting dressed in the morning oh so much fun.
I'm going to try try try to get enough shuteye, at least tonight. I don't want to say that from hereon, I'm going to get ample sleep on a weeknight, because I know I'll get annoyed with myself if I slip up. I know that I'll be sharper at work and get less snippy with people. But really, if getting more sleep means I can spend my concealer budget at Sephora on lipstick instead, then that's an even better perk.
*Not to be confused with the sleep cure in "The Valley of The Dolls," which, by the way, is the best trashy novel ever written.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Researchers say the darndest things.
A long time ago, I learned something unexpected from a brilliant researcher who I worked for. When I offered to pick him some lunch for him at McDonald's, he requested a sandwich, fries, and a soda. So I asked him if he wanted it Supersized, to which he responded:
"Oh? Supersized? What's that?"
And here's the moral of the story: when it comes to academic matters, the man is peerless. But when it comes to practical matters, he's not your guy.
When I saw the press coverage last week concerning the new article about ADD and the workplace, I couldn't help but be reminded of that tale of my old boss. For those of you who missed it, I'll summarize it here to save you from slogging through the tedious passive-voice writing that academics enjoy using:
"Oh? Supersized? What's that?"
And here's the moral of the story: when it comes to academic matters, the man is peerless. But when it comes to practical matters, he's not your guy.
When I saw the press coverage last week concerning the new article about ADD and the workplace, I couldn't help but be reminded of that tale of my old boss. For those of you who missed it, I'll summarize it here to save you from slogging through the tedious passive-voice writing that academics enjoy using:
- Researchers interviewed "nationally representative samples of people" in a bunch of different countries with questionnaires that would determine whether they had ADD.
- Did I mention that DSM-IV criteria for ADHD "were developed with children in mind and offer only limited guidance regarding adult diagnosis," even though these are the criteria they based their ADHD questionnaires on?
- Also they based the whole study on interview data, which can be considered the weakest form of evidence? Sorry, I digress...I'm an unproductive ADDer, y'know...
- They also asked questions about "role performance", which questions such as "Beginning yesterday and going back 30 days, how many days out of the past 30 were you totally uable to work or carry out your normal activities?’’ and ‘‘How many days out of the past 30 were you able to work and carry out your normal activities, but had to cut down on what you did or not get as much done as usual?’’
- A lot of people whose questionnaires indicated that they screened positive for ADD (as if it were chicken pox or mono, sheesh) were asked if they ever received treatment for ADD, and most hadn't.
- Based on all of that, we arrive at the gripping conclusion: "The above results raise the question whether adult ADHD is a candidate for targeted workplace screening and treatment programs. ... It might be cost-effective from the employer perspective to implement workplace screening programs with such a scale to detect and provide treatment for workers with ADHD."
Cost-effective? As if! This notion is an attorney's dream. Any employer (in the U.S., at least) would get their butts sued on privacy grounds.
And never mind the obvious illogical leap the article makes. To oversimplify, spike the office water cooler with Ritalin, and employers will squeeze oodles of productivity out of their unfocused hoardes with ADD.
Eh, not so much.
All of us ADDers know that taking the drugs gives you focus. Drugs don't provide ADDers with focus on things that we don't care about. Once during a performance review, another old boss commented, "You like doing the things that you enjoy, and don't like doing the things that you don't enjoy." Heck yeah! In other words, if you like the work that you do, then you will most likely stay focused. If work doesn't interest you, you're more likely to surf Amazon for stuff to buy just to entertain yourself.
The thing is, ADDers may have difficultly finding the right occupation or setting. We get attracted to the shiny, fun stuff and leave the rest in our wake. And face it, some jobs just aren't all that interesting. We've all worked them before. While non-ADDers probably have an easier time muddling through the less enjoyable parts of jobs and careers, getting our ADD selves to do things that don't interest us presents a challenge of epic proportions. As a result, we tend to be less productive because the work doesn't interest us.
I'll make it clear - I'm not justifying ADDers slacking on the job. Not at all. However, the study didn't measure the type of work (other than blue/white collar, etc) that participants did, nor did it mentioned levels of job satisfaction.
You'll find this same nugget of sage advice in a companion interview with the good Dr. Hallowell. When asked what's been most helpful to him in dealing with his own ADD, he included "find the right job" in his list. Exactly.
But never mind getting the right job, folks. Academics know what's best for you! And they us how best to get the ball rolling further on in their conclusion:
"The obvious next step from a public health perspective, given these findings, is to evaluate the extent to which best-practices outreach and treatment would result in improvement in functioning that might have a positive return on-investment for employers."
Hey docs, would you like that Supersized?
All of the authors of this article earn their lving at prestigious universities and medical centers. No doubt they also likely have tenure. Thus, they likely are concerned about their job security as much as they're concerned about the meal size options at fast food restaurants. In short, the idea of employers screening their staff for any disorder - physical or mental - disturbs me. In the cozy world of academic research, the docs probably never considered the ramifications of their conclusion. I know my response if my employer handed me a questionnaire and a pencil. Never mind that, though. Like I said earlier, I'm sure that my employer's attorneys would put the kibosh on the office ADD quizzes before they'd see the light of day.
As someone who was diagnosed with ADD pretty far into my career, I do feel that having treatment for ADD earlier in my working life certainly would have made my life easier. But having my ADD uncovered by my (or any!) employer and being known as "the one with ADD" would have felt uncomfortable, awkward, strange, and definitely exploitive.
So folks, if you have ADD or think that you might, spend your energies on figuring out what your bliss is. And then follow it. It might sound trite, but don't forget that being easily distracted at work might mean that there's something out there that's more enjoyable to do. And that could mean being the best burrito maker, a number cruncher, or the leader of the free world.
I know all of this myself because lately I've also been doing a lot of searching for my career bliss. It's not easy. But I know that spending time thinking about it will certainly be worthwile. And when I find it, it'll be good. And I'll have fries with that, please.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
On housekeeping: no stars in my eyes
Not that I'm a one foot in the gutter kind of lady (OK, yes I am...a fair amount of the time), but as proud as I was about my housekeeping endeavors that I excitedly blogged about, I did wonder how long all of this tidiness would last.
Result? 2 weeks!
After maintaining the cleanliness and clutter-free (eh, minimally cluttered!) environment for 1 week, the sense of calm I possessed amazed me. In order to maintain it, I created a checklist for myself of things that I needed to do on a daily basis to maintain it. That included spending just 5 minutes in the morning cleaning the bathroom. In other words, little things that add up to a lovely big picture. The checklist also included some small stuff to maintain *myself*. Because I know that drinking enough water and brushing my teeth at night matter, I wanted to check the extent to which I actually do these things.
(And so that you are sure you read the previous paragraph correctly, I'm confirming that I sometimes forget to brush my teeth at night. I'm not proud of this, but hey, this is my ADD story, warts and all.)
Back to the checklist. To make it fun, I used sticker stars to check off each item. I like sticker stars, and it's a shame that we don't receive these as awards after second or third grade. I was all pumped about using the checklist, and enjoyed using it for 3 days. I didn't complete every item on the list each of those days. However, it was also an interesting data collection experience for me, as I was able to see which of the things I did and which I didn't do.
And then, Day 4 rolled around. I had a date with B, who I now know will not be a contender for the position of Mr. Add Libber. Thanks to the wonderful public transit system, I got home 30 minutes before I had to be out the door looking all cute and girly. Fortunately, I primped extensively and met my timeframe. However, my place looked like Sephora and Ulta had vomited products everywhere after an all-night beauty bender.
When I got home that night, I used my busy day and evening as a justification for not following my checklist. By the next day, the checklist sat overlooked on my bedroom dresser and remained unused.
That was over a week ago. This morning, I looked around and felt like things had again gotten out of control. My buoyant mood had also sunk, and I felt very blah. I'veread in many home organization books that the state of your home represents your life. And my life apparently has an empty sparkling cider bottle on the desk.
And so I'm printing out another checklist and aiming to get back on track. I'm frustrated that I let things get awry. But then again, I never thought that my big cleanup a couple of weeks ago would last as long as it did. I hope that I can get things back in order, one star at a time. I'll keep you posted on how it goes. Wish me luck!
Result? 2 weeks!
After maintaining the cleanliness and clutter-free (eh, minimally cluttered!) environment for 1 week, the sense of calm I possessed amazed me. In order to maintain it, I created a checklist for myself of things that I needed to do on a daily basis to maintain it. That included spending just 5 minutes in the morning cleaning the bathroom. In other words, little things that add up to a lovely big picture. The checklist also included some small stuff to maintain *myself*. Because I know that drinking enough water and brushing my teeth at night matter, I wanted to check the extent to which I actually do these things.
(And so that you are sure you read the previous paragraph correctly, I'm confirming that I sometimes forget to brush my teeth at night. I'm not proud of this, but hey, this is my ADD story, warts and all.)
Back to the checklist. To make it fun, I used sticker stars to check off each item. I like sticker stars, and it's a shame that we don't receive these as awards after second or third grade. I was all pumped about using the checklist, and enjoyed using it for 3 days. I didn't complete every item on the list each of those days. However, it was also an interesting data collection experience for me, as I was able to see which of the things I did and which I didn't do.
And then, Day 4 rolled around. I had a date with B, who I now know will not be a contender for the position of Mr. Add Libber. Thanks to the wonderful public transit system, I got home 30 minutes before I had to be out the door looking all cute and girly. Fortunately, I primped extensively and met my timeframe. However, my place looked like Sephora and Ulta had vomited products everywhere after an all-night beauty bender.
When I got home that night, I used my busy day and evening as a justification for not following my checklist. By the next day, the checklist sat overlooked on my bedroom dresser and remained unused.
That was over a week ago. This morning, I looked around and felt like things had again gotten out of control. My buoyant mood had also sunk, and I felt very blah. I'veread in many home organization books that the state of your home represents your life. And my life apparently has an empty sparkling cider bottle on the desk.
And so I'm printing out another checklist and aiming to get back on track. I'm frustrated that I let things get awry. But then again, I never thought that my big cleanup a couple of weeks ago would last as long as it did. I hope that I can get things back in order, one star at a time. I'll keep you posted on how it goes. Wish me luck!
Friday, May 16, 2008
On housekeeping: dusting off the motivation (part two)
And now, the exciting conclusion!
As the days and weeks passed between the decision to have S. and B. over for dessert and D Day itself, I had the best intentions to prep for the event. Every time I had a free evening or Sunday, my head flooded with all of the possibilities of what I could do to get ready for dessert night: shred extraneous papers, pick out some recipes, put pictures in the frames I'd purchased that still held the stock black-and-white photos of blissful faces. At the same time, other diversions tempted me: riding my bike, seeing a show, hanging out with friends, and oh yeah, catching up on the whereabouts of the cast of The Facts of Life on Wikipedia.
Having so many options rendered me indecisive. Or rather, I gravitated to the activities that immediately gratified me (= not party prep!). But fortunately, a few days before the party, I selected recipes and motivated myself to the grocery store to make the desserts. Oh yeah, did I mention that I was going to make three types of desserts for the three of us? I figured that if I was going to be all Martha Stewart, I was going full throttle - minus the prison sentence, of course.
As the days and weeks passed between the decision to have S. and B. over for dessert and D Day itself, I had the best intentions to prep for the event. Every time I had a free evening or Sunday, my head flooded with all of the possibilities of what I could do to get ready for dessert night: shred extraneous papers, pick out some recipes, put pictures in the frames I'd purchased that still held the stock black-and-white photos of blissful faces. At the same time, other diversions tempted me: riding my bike, seeing a show, hanging out with friends, and oh yeah, catching up on the whereabouts of the cast of The Facts of Life on Wikipedia.
Having so many options rendered me indecisive. Or rather, I gravitated to the activities that immediately gratified me (= not party prep!). But fortunately, a few days before the party, I selected recipes and motivated myself to the grocery store to make the desserts. Oh yeah, did I mention that I was going to make three types of desserts for the three of us? I figured that if I was going to be all Martha Stewart, I was going full throttle - minus the prison sentence, of course.
Because I purchased all of the necessary foodstuffs, I developed a false sense of security about having everything ready dessert night. My place still required ample tidying, yet I put it off until the night before, when a feeling of dream washed over me. Indeed, I attributed all of the disorder to be the cause of this feeling. But actually, the thought of going to the office the following day weighed on me. After significantly pulling my weight over the past several months, I'd reached a huge lull. As a result of all of my feelings, I did the most logical thing.
I called in sick. Sick of work, that is! (Note: I don't normally advocate absenteeism, but sometimes you have to listen to your gut.)
And so I happily spent all of dessert day mopping, baking, cleaning, and generally prettying things up. Admittedly, I enjoyed every minute of it. But then again, I know that I wouldn't have enjoyed doing all of this on a non-work day. Being home when I wasn't supposed to be made it all fun.
Dessert night was a hit. S. and B. had just assumed that I bought the desserts, but seeing the products conceived in my kitchen bowled them over. As we chowed down my sugary treats and gossiped and laughed, I knew that all of the effort had paid off.
Gearing up for this event served as an excellent shot of motivation to keep atop my housekeeping. So far, I think I've been doing OK. When I come home at the end of the day, I have more of a feeling of calm when I see less stuff sitting around. In order to keep things in order, I'm aiming to spend 20 minutes a day on housekeeping. Although, as my head's about to hit the keyboard, I'm giving myself tonight off for good behavior. I'm sure Martha Stewart would understand that all too well!
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