I’ve been patiently waiting for my mood to shift a bit, and a horrid sort of aimlessness has settled over me. Options appear to my eyes with the same dull hues, nothing bright and obvious and appealing. I read to keep my mind occupied rather than circling like a vulture.
I was really hoping that the thyroid pills I’ve been prescribed would kick ennui’s butt. I'm always hoping there will be an a-ha moment that puts everything right
My therapist says I should cut myself some slack. Motivation is a gnawing problem for people with ADD. I’m low energy and that’s just a fact of my nature. I should rejoice that I’m functional. I have my kids and husband and they’re important to me. I think of my mom: her kids and family were important to her, too, but she still went around saying, “I just don’t know what to do with my life.” She was saying that in her 70s. Drove me mad. I used to think, Hell, by this time you’ve done what you were going to do with your life – suck it up. But it’s an awful feeling, that sense of directionless motion. You don’t feel like you’re the master of your own ship, or whatever that stupid expression is. I end up reacting to events, dithering over decisions. I feel foggy and uncertain. I’ve known from a young age that structure is essential if I’m to get anything done at all, and that I am incapable of creating that structure myself. I’ve needed schools and jobs to divide up my day, deadlines to force me to focus. The moment I try to set up any sort of routine for myself, I’m doomed. Set goals? Who’s going to hold me to it, after all? Myself? Hah. And routines are not foolproof. There are days when, for example, after years and years of putting out medicine for Firecracker to take, every morning at the same time, I forget it entirely. And you know what? The next day I’ll be more likely to forget it again. It’s as if the habit were unraveling. I finally set up automatic reminders to pop up on my phone. That’s not foolproof, either, because those sorts of things tend to become just so much white noise. The only thing I can be certain I won’t forget is to brush my teeth. I have immediate sensory feedback if that isn’t done.
Did you know that there’s a connection between dopamine and motivation? Low dopamine, low motivation. I take medications in an attempt to counter what I can only think is a full-out dopamine drought. Sometimes it works sort of okay, at least for a while. But then I just have to leave the boring behind and do something I like. Tedium is my enemy. And unfortunately this often happens in the middle of a work day. It’s almost guaranteed to happen when it’s time to deal with household chores. This is not just the afternoon slump. A few wisps of mist float through, and then the full-on fog of dreamy inattention. There are no rewards great enough to tempt me, so I rely on fear. I need a job, and I need to keep Dear Husband’s ire at bay. Some people think that the contentment and peacefulness of a clean house or a job well done would be reward enough, but no way. I have no work ethic. Never cared about working my way to the top of the dung heap. Left to myself I’d never do anything. I guess it’s a good thing I wasn’t born into wealth.
It sure makes me feel out of sync with cultural expectations. All these books on Get It Done, how to be an entrepreneur, how to get ahead, little tricks and bits and bobs on productivity. Seth Godin. Just visiting his website makes me tired. Do I care if I’m the linchpin? Hell no. (By the way, why are there all these blogs and books about leadership? What about books on being an astute and useful follower, assistant, or whatever?) Ambition, goals, productivity – I can understand these intellectually, but my physical self has no understanding at all. They are a foreign substance I keep trying to ingest and integrate and my system keeps pushing them out as foreign bodies.
You know, I was just on Seth Godin’s blog, and he mentioned the characteristics of losers. And I thought, No one wants to be a loser, but someone always is.
Which brings me to the last episode of Glee, with the fabulous song Loser Like Me, which expresses a sense of optimism I don’t feel.
Showing posts with label ADD. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ADD. Show all posts
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Entropy
Today all my failures crowd my spirit, flapping their wings and cawing. And that’s about the most poetic thing you’ll get out of me today.
School will be starting soon. Every year this new beginning has given me false hope. But after 9 years, I know that any intention I have to be more involved or to be better organized will fall victim to entropy. Now I feel disheartened before the school year has even begun.
When I was a child, the start of the school year was an enormous relief. After the amorphous and dull summer my days would fall into an orderly routine, one I would be forced to follow. At the time I didn’t know I had ADD. After all I was very smart and could whiz through most subjects. But empty time was dreadful. I had no idea what to do with myself, how to make time behave the way it did at school. At home I was terrible at managing my time for homework, studying and projects. Waiting to the last minute seemed to work rather well as a motivator. It was almost exhilarating.
Now I have no one but myself to organize my time and I hate it. First, I don’t believe myself. I can set a goal or deadline, but it’s just me. I have no authority with myself. Second, very little compels me. My interests evaporate the moment I look at them directly.
And work is worse each day. I’m sharp, a quick study, so at any job I soon get a lot of leeway to work on my own. This is a disaster. Also, once I’ve mastered a task, I’m completely bored by it. I’ve tried so many systems and none work for very long. My attention wanders. I forget things. I feel lost. I create lists I don’t follow, send myself email reminders that get buried. I take medication, but that only helps with concentration; it hasn’t transformed me into someone with intrinsic motivation or the ability to create routines and stay with them. And concentration - well if my attention snags on something shiny, it will stubbornly remain there however irrelevant it is.
My mother was also unable to order and direct. Drove me mad as a child. I so wanted her to establish rules, structure, and routines and force me to abide. But no. She alternated between impossible projects and lethargy. Now I have children and I can’t manage it either. I feel like a terrible role model.
I know the girls suffer from a lack of structure at home. Most days they are following someone else’s routine. I didn’t have that as a child, so I hope it helps, and when I pick them up there isn’t much time between then and bed, although those routines are frequently derailed, too. Weekends defeat me. Completely. So much empty time.
I read this today: “If you have to get motivated to take action then you are not motivated by the outcome. Need 2 Reevaluate purpose.” I think it’s from some GTD coach, a system that annoys the crap out of me. Most of the time outcomes are so far out they look like a mirage. Of course I’m not motivated by the outcome. No one BELIEVES in the outcome.
Okay, I’m bored with this.
School will be starting soon. Every year this new beginning has given me false hope. But after 9 years, I know that any intention I have to be more involved or to be better organized will fall victim to entropy. Now I feel disheartened before the school year has even begun.
When I was a child, the start of the school year was an enormous relief. After the amorphous and dull summer my days would fall into an orderly routine, one I would be forced to follow. At the time I didn’t know I had ADD. After all I was very smart and could whiz through most subjects. But empty time was dreadful. I had no idea what to do with myself, how to make time behave the way it did at school. At home I was terrible at managing my time for homework, studying and projects. Waiting to the last minute seemed to work rather well as a motivator. It was almost exhilarating.
Now I have no one but myself to organize my time and I hate it. First, I don’t believe myself. I can set a goal or deadline, but it’s just me. I have no authority with myself. Second, very little compels me. My interests evaporate the moment I look at them directly.
And work is worse each day. I’m sharp, a quick study, so at any job I soon get a lot of leeway to work on my own. This is a disaster. Also, once I’ve mastered a task, I’m completely bored by it. I’ve tried so many systems and none work for very long. My attention wanders. I forget things. I feel lost. I create lists I don’t follow, send myself email reminders that get buried. I take medication, but that only helps with concentration; it hasn’t transformed me into someone with intrinsic motivation or the ability to create routines and stay with them. And concentration - well if my attention snags on something shiny, it will stubbornly remain there however irrelevant it is.
My mother was also unable to order and direct. Drove me mad as a child. I so wanted her to establish rules, structure, and routines and force me to abide. But no. She alternated between impossible projects and lethargy. Now I have children and I can’t manage it either. I feel like a terrible role model.
I know the girls suffer from a lack of structure at home. Most days they are following someone else’s routine. I didn’t have that as a child, so I hope it helps, and when I pick them up there isn’t much time between then and bed, although those routines are frequently derailed, too. Weekends defeat me. Completely. So much empty time.
I read this today: “If you have to get motivated to take action then you are not motivated by the outcome. Need 2 Reevaluate purpose.” I think it’s from some GTD coach, a system that annoys the crap out of me. Most of the time outcomes are so far out they look like a mirage. Of course I’m not motivated by the outcome. No one BELIEVES in the outcome.
Okay, I’m bored with this.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
No Need to Panic: Let Me Do It for You
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
The Art of Losing Things
"Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master."
Dear Husband is disgusted with me, because I constantly forget things--forget plans, forget to plan, mix things up, lose things, procrastinate, hesitate. Generally, I make things difficult to the point that he is always saving us from a muddle.
Right now I am sitting with my calendar open. It doesn't actually help me that much. I often forget to open it. Or I open it and the days are not real to me. How much time is actually between now and the next "thing"? I often write things on my hand, which drives him nuts. I know I won't forget it that way. It won't be closed up in an appointment book, or written on a piece of paper that will find its way under the car seat. I put alarms on my phone, feed stuff into my Outlook. But the problem is that something is always left out. I also don't have good recall. My boss claims to have given me a piece of software. I can't find it anywhere and don't remember the exchange at all. But I know from experience that she doesn't forget, and if she said she gave it to me then she did. But where is it? Will I ever find it?
I'm taking Adderall. It helps a little bit. I guess. But I am still a flake. Not the worst, but bad enough.
Dear Husband is disgusted with me, because I constantly forget things--forget plans, forget to plan, mix things up, lose things, procrastinate, hesitate. Generally, I make things difficult to the point that he is always saving us from a muddle.
Right now I am sitting with my calendar open. It doesn't actually help me that much. I often forget to open it. Or I open it and the days are not real to me. How much time is actually between now and the next "thing"? I often write things on my hand, which drives him nuts. I know I won't forget it that way. It won't be closed up in an appointment book, or written on a piece of paper that will find its way under the car seat. I put alarms on my phone, feed stuff into my Outlook. But the problem is that something is always left out. I also don't have good recall. My boss claims to have given me a piece of software. I can't find it anywhere and don't remember the exchange at all. But I know from experience that she doesn't forget, and if she said she gave it to me then she did. But where is it? Will I ever find it?
I'm taking Adderall. It helps a little bit. I guess. But I am still a flake. Not the worst, but bad enough.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Adderall is my friend, I think
I've always thought I was the least likely person to have ADD. After all, I was as far from hyperactive as you can get, and I love to read, and I made it through school with good grades. Sure I drifted aimlessly from day to day and had no idea what to do with myself if I wasn't at work or school. Empty time sure was empty. When I was a kid I hated summer for this reason. I would draw up elaborate schedules, but I could never keep it up. I loved school--so ordered, so rhythmic. It was such a relief to know that I was supposed to be in place B at time A. And schoolwork was easy, as long as I liked my classes, and I usually did. I was bored a lot, but mostly at home.
I don't think I ever owned a calendar, much less a planner. I have no idea how I got through college without missing assignments, exams, whatever. I don't remember having a date book until I was in my 30s and I started a job where they made you take a Franklin Covey seminar. I hate Franklin Covey. I hate his bulky planners and his goal charts and the stupid seminars. But I was sucked into the world of planners. I've carried a lot of them, and written in appointments. Unfortunately, I usually forget to look at them.
My coping mechanisms consisted mostly of letting someone else take care of the important stuff at home and never committing to anything that required a due date. And then along came kids, and suddenly there were doctors and dentists, and then specialists and day care providers and forms and charts and a mountain of bills, statements, applications, laundry, toys, diaper bags, commutes. Now, after seven years of motherhood, I am going to admit that I have lost it and probably never had it. I regularly misplace papers. I forget doctor appointments. Sometimes I show up at appointments on the wrong day. I can start on one project and somehow end up researching the name of that obscure actor in movie x. I've written checks off the wrong account. I can forget what you are saying while you are talking to me, because my mind snagged on one of your words and that reminded me that I have to remember to not forget to pick up the dry-cleaning. I write notes to myself on my hands in Sharpie. I forget to reorder prescriptions before I hit the last pill, at which point I notice that the label says "No More Refills." The flip side is that I can become so obsessed with a project that I don't notice the laundry or the dishes, or how very late it is getting. It seems perfectly reasonable that I can pack three lunches, clean the kitchen, load the dishwasher and finally fold the laundry at eleven pm. Even though I've never been a great homemaker, I've always managed to hold it together at work, but not now. I've always been great at ideas and lousy at follow-through, but now I feel like a gibbering idiot in a cubicle.
Our life only runs smoothly because of Dear Husband. He pays the bills and realizes that if we are going on a trip on the 11th, certain preparations need to start on the 5th. When I hedge, he is decisive. When I dawdle, he keeps me on track.
So, Adderall, let's see what you can do.
I don't think I ever owned a calendar, much less a planner. I have no idea how I got through college without missing assignments, exams, whatever. I don't remember having a date book until I was in my 30s and I started a job where they made you take a Franklin Covey seminar. I hate Franklin Covey. I hate his bulky planners and his goal charts and the stupid seminars. But I was sucked into the world of planners. I've carried a lot of them, and written in appointments. Unfortunately, I usually forget to look at them.
My coping mechanisms consisted mostly of letting someone else take care of the important stuff at home and never committing to anything that required a due date. And then along came kids, and suddenly there were doctors and dentists, and then specialists and day care providers and forms and charts and a mountain of bills, statements, applications, laundry, toys, diaper bags, commutes. Now, after seven years of motherhood, I am going to admit that I have lost it and probably never had it. I regularly misplace papers. I forget doctor appointments. Sometimes I show up at appointments on the wrong day. I can start on one project and somehow end up researching the name of that obscure actor in movie x. I've written checks off the wrong account. I can forget what you are saying while you are talking to me, because my mind snagged on one of your words and that reminded me that I have to remember to not forget to pick up the dry-cleaning. I write notes to myself on my hands in Sharpie. I forget to reorder prescriptions before I hit the last pill, at which point I notice that the label says "No More Refills." The flip side is that I can become so obsessed with a project that I don't notice the laundry or the dishes, or how very late it is getting. It seems perfectly reasonable that I can pack three lunches, clean the kitchen, load the dishwasher and finally fold the laundry at eleven pm. Even though I've never been a great homemaker, I've always managed to hold it together at work, but not now. I've always been great at ideas and lousy at follow-through, but now I feel like a gibbering idiot in a cubicle.
Our life only runs smoothly because of Dear Husband. He pays the bills and realizes that if we are going on a trip on the 11th, certain preparations need to start on the 5th. When I hedge, he is decisive. When I dawdle, he keeps me on track.
So, Adderall, let's see what you can do.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Sheesh, I'm glad this week is over
Man, this was one crummy week. It was one of those weeks that is becoming all too familiar, one in which mistakes seem to attract other mistakes until there's a big fuzzy hairball of a mistake crowding me out of my cubicle. And I'm not the kind of person who takes these things in stride. No, I have to give myself a mental lashing several times a day and weep into my keyboard. I complained so much to my therapist that she asked if I could have ADD. How curious, I thought. So then I found myself at work and looking up ADD on the web when I should have been, well, working. More fuzz for the hairball.
Since I'm always ready to take on a new diagnosis--they're like virtual toys--I'm going to see the psychiatrist armed with a questionnaire that, if it doesn't indicate ADD, sure does indicate that I am a total flake.
Now, I always thought you had to be a hyperactive struggles-with-schoolwork kind of person to have ADD. Seems, though, you can just be a daydreamer who loses and forgets everything and is pathologically shy and gets bored all the time--they call it ADHD primarily inattentive, or something like that. If you're really smart and you like your classes you can keep looking good until the work gets too complex, which for me happened about the time I had to balance my own checkbook, which I did maybe three times before giving it up entirely. Over the years I've witnessed myself changing from pathologically shy to the kind of annoying person who interrupts you and can't stop talking. Meanwhile the academic prowess has unraveled itself into some fluffy yarn. I bet I would talk a lot in class now, if I could remember what time and place it meets. It's in my planner, but the planner has gone missing. I know it's here somewhere, if I could just get up the energy to look.
Since I'm always ready to take on a new diagnosis--they're like virtual toys--I'm going to see the psychiatrist armed with a questionnaire that, if it doesn't indicate ADD, sure does indicate that I am a total flake.
Now, I always thought you had to be a hyperactive struggles-with-schoolwork kind of person to have ADD. Seems, though, you can just be a daydreamer who loses and forgets everything and is pathologically shy and gets bored all the time--they call it ADHD primarily inattentive, or something like that. If you're really smart and you like your classes you can keep looking good until the work gets too complex, which for me happened about the time I had to balance my own checkbook, which I did maybe three times before giving it up entirely. Over the years I've witnessed myself changing from pathologically shy to the kind of annoying person who interrupts you and can't stop talking. Meanwhile the academic prowess has unraveled itself into some fluffy yarn. I bet I would talk a lot in class now, if I could remember what time and place it meets. It's in my planner, but the planner has gone missing. I know it's here somewhere, if I could just get up the energy to look.
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