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.
Showing posts with label disorganization. Show all posts
Showing posts with label disorganization. Show all posts
Thursday, September 10, 2009
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... :-)
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!
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Ritalin and the Two Sides of Me
On Super Bowl Sunday, I celebrated my second aniversary of being Powered by Ritalin. When I reflect on the past couple of years, a recent compliment pops into my mind. A manager in one of my employer's main offices phoned me with accolades regarding how I handled a recent meeting. She also said she's noticed that my ability to take command in such meetings had catapulted in the past couple of years. Coincidence?
That manager's compliment sums up one side of me. I occasionally lead or participate in high-level meetings in which I must be clear, articulate, on my game, and thinking fast. Pre-Ritalin, I used to dread these situations because after a few minutes I would feel like I fell face first into a mud puddle because everything said in the meeting would just form a traffic jam in my brain.
Post-Ritalin, I relish these opportunities. I'm able to address what's being said, and even go off on tangents because I can easily return to my main points. Even better, I can do all of this with little effort. I've thus discovered my new ability to think on my feet. While other colleagues require detailed notes before they speak in public, I can expound for a while with just a few bullets.
But then there's the other side of me. This other side of me forgot to do laundry the night before one of these meetings last week. I realized well after midnight while I was still surfing the Internet that I had no clean hosiery to wear to the meeting in the morning. I quickly handwashed a pair and rolled it in a bath towel to speed up the drying process. However, I forgot to unroll the towel and hang up the hosiery before I went to bed. As a result, I had to blast my hair dryer on them so as not to don moist legwear. And though I knew what I planned to wear, I chose not to iron until the morning. I could have used the hosiery-drying and ironing time to eat breakfast. Instead, I arrived at the meeting with an empty belly and ample gratitude for the person who brought donuts.
Another one of the meetings involved overnight travel. Though I'd only be gone for a couple of days, I still could not decide what I wanted to wear. I partially attribute my indecision to a temporary post-Thanksgiving weight gain in all of the wrong places and not liking the way my clothes fit. I ended up going to bed at 3:30 in the morning without having my attire selected, and had to get up 2 hours later to catch my flight. I ended up packing my stuff right before I left for the airport, and the 10 minutes of crunch-time decision making worked out just fine. Had I curtailed the procrastination, I wouldn't have needed to frequently squirt drops in my red eyes, prop myself up with caffeine, or scarf down every carb that came within an arm's reach.
On the job, I'm able to keep the harried and frantic side of me hidden away. I show up for these professional confabs by presenting my poised, confident, and smartly attired. But on the inside, I feel as exhausted as someone who just finished a marathon because of all the hoops I make myself jump through to get myself out the door.
Shortly after becoming Powered by Ritalin, a former friend (I alluded to her in a previous post) expressed her skepticism about ADD in general. She mentioned that one of the characters on "Desperate Housewives" took her kid's Ritalin and then cleaned the house in one fell swoop. Then she asked if that was how the drug would affect me. If only! ADD drugs provide us with an ability to do things, not the discipline. I'll continue to muddle through the latter, because discipline doesn't come in pill form.
That manager's compliment sums up one side of me. I occasionally lead or participate in high-level meetings in which I must be clear, articulate, on my game, and thinking fast. Pre-Ritalin, I used to dread these situations because after a few minutes I would feel like I fell face first into a mud puddle because everything said in the meeting would just form a traffic jam in my brain.
Post-Ritalin, I relish these opportunities. I'm able to address what's being said, and even go off on tangents because I can easily return to my main points. Even better, I can do all of this with little effort. I've thus discovered my new ability to think on my feet. While other colleagues require detailed notes before they speak in public, I can expound for a while with just a few bullets.
But then there's the other side of me. This other side of me forgot to do laundry the night before one of these meetings last week. I realized well after midnight while I was still surfing the Internet that I had no clean hosiery to wear to the meeting in the morning. I quickly handwashed a pair and rolled it in a bath towel to speed up the drying process. However, I forgot to unroll the towel and hang up the hosiery before I went to bed. As a result, I had to blast my hair dryer on them so as not to don moist legwear. And though I knew what I planned to wear, I chose not to iron until the morning. I could have used the hosiery-drying and ironing time to eat breakfast. Instead, I arrived at the meeting with an empty belly and ample gratitude for the person who brought donuts.
Another one of the meetings involved overnight travel. Though I'd only be gone for a couple of days, I still could not decide what I wanted to wear. I partially attribute my indecision to a temporary post-Thanksgiving weight gain in all of the wrong places and not liking the way my clothes fit. I ended up going to bed at 3:30 in the morning without having my attire selected, and had to get up 2 hours later to catch my flight. I ended up packing my stuff right before I left for the airport, and the 10 minutes of crunch-time decision making worked out just fine. Had I curtailed the procrastination, I wouldn't have needed to frequently squirt drops in my red eyes, prop myself up with caffeine, or scarf down every carb that came within an arm's reach.
On the job, I'm able to keep the harried and frantic side of me hidden away. I show up for these professional confabs by presenting my poised, confident, and smartly attired. But on the inside, I feel as exhausted as someone who just finished a marathon because of all the hoops I make myself jump through to get myself out the door.
Shortly after becoming Powered by Ritalin, a former friend (I alluded to her in a previous post) expressed her skepticism about ADD in general. She mentioned that one of the characters on "Desperate Housewives" took her kid's Ritalin and then cleaned the house in one fell swoop. Then she asked if that was how the drug would affect me. If only! ADD drugs provide us with an ability to do things, not the discipline. I'll continue to muddle through the latter, because discipline doesn't come in pill form.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Fessing up about my landline
Most of my friends have abandonded their landline telephones in their homes, and solely rely on their cell phones. I considered doing the same. Having just one phone number and one phone bill definitely simplifies life a wee bit.
However, a far more compelling reason exists to hold on to the landline. When I'm home and cant find my cell phone, I just pick up my home phone and dial my cell phone number. Usually, I can locate it before it stops ringing!
However, a far more compelling reason exists to hold on to the landline. When I'm home and cant find my cell phone, I just pick up my home phone and dial my cell phone number. Usually, I can locate it before it stops ringing!
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