Closing off options

Deciding what NOT to focus on is anathema to the ADHD brain.  Like being told, "you can't have chocolate," you then really want chocolate.  I've been giving some of my limited focus to pondering this idea.  Why, you ask?  Because the s*** needs to hit the fan.  I am 43 years old, want these four things in no particular order: marriage, child, my own business and to record an album. 

As I type this, a familiar defensiveness comes out of me.  I hear a voice say, "so many people do these things every day, just *&*^&^% go do them."  I haven't been able to yet though for various reasons: years of depression (very successfully medicated, therapised and exercised out of my brain so far) and, of course, an ADHD brain that wasn't diagnosed until I was 29 years old.  What I want to say back to that voice is something I wrote recently in a journal entry:

One of the most disheartening things you can say to someone who struggles daily with a processing disorder is, “see we all have to work hard at this.”  As if you'll suddenly think, "Oh my goodness, that was my only issue?! That I didn't realize some tasks and goals are challenging.  Thank you, thank you for your wise words.  How have I gone on so long without them? Wow, challenges gone."   The thing is, your working hard and my working hard are two entirely different beasts.  To illustrate; there is you climbing the challenging mountain with your water, boots, nature bars and a good night’s sleep.  Difficult but doable.  The challenges of the mountain lay mostly outside of yourself.  Then there is me climbing the mountain with a coat that perhaps neither of us realize is made of lead.  Not only that, I haven’t slept well.  I look the same but not only is our task quite different but our experience of the task is quite different. Yours may be an invigorating challenge.  Mine will most likely be a fruitless, dispiriting challenge that will only ever get me 100 feet up the hill.  I’ll keep trying, perhaps for years, and never get more than 100 feet up that hill.  Meanwhile you’ve built a home, had a family and have traveled up another 15 mountains.
 

With this essay and blog overall, I am attempting to get further than 100 feet up the hill that I have traversed over and over again for years?  How am I going to do this? 

I can't answer this with any certainty but I can say that after years of reading and trial and error, I feel that I have a semblance of awareness of my strengths and weaknesses to attempt to slowly change some aspects of my life.   This much I know: I want a family, a business of my own and to make music. Truthfully,  there are also lots of things I don't want to change.  I must emphasize that.  I come to this challenge from a place of joy and excitement.  I am happy I am alive.  I am grateful for my friends, continued good health, my home, my garden, my family, even my waitressing job, which isn't my dream job by any means, but at which I've made good friends and truly had a fun time. 

As always, onwards....

Yes And...

If you've ever taken an intro to improv class, and like any educated, comedy-loving, white middle-class gal of left leaning persuasion, I have, you learn the phrase, "Yes, And..."  It's used in improv to help the student keep an open mind but can also be applied to all aspects of life.

If you have untreated mental illness, or cognitive processing disorders, your, "yes, and" may be actually sound like, "umm, well, yes...I guess, oh, god what have I done?!"  Or more likely as time goes on,  "F*** no."  

I have much, "yes, and" in me by nature but it has too often been thwarted by an uncooperative brain.  This has gotten me thinking about how I can have a bit more, "yes and" in my life and with it the spirit of openness to new experience that I desire. 

So how can Adults with ADHD find their, "yes, and" and feel some measure of optimism and excitement to accompany it?

It's so imperative with any cognitive processing disorder to know what your challenges are and how they manifest in your life on a day to day basis.  I am the first to say that this is an incredibly challenging task.  It has taken me years of reading ADHD books, therapy and jobs-beneath-my-education-and-talent, to suss out how my brain functions at it's best and worst.  

For example: THE most important I have learned over the  past two years is that consuming beans has a profoundly positive effect on my brain, mood and focus.  When I began to figure this out, I was then stressed out because I wanted to create wonderful dishes to eat, which wasn't happening. The other day though I inadvertently bought canned, ready-to-eat "chile beans."  So I just simply added some whole grain rice, consumed this tasty-though-not-particularly-creative mixture and was subsequently stunned at how calm, focused and craving free I felt for hours afterward.  In light of this discovery, I've decided to treat eating beans and brown rice like medicine.  Recipes be damned! Get those ready-to-make beans, brown rice and take as needed.  

Let's try to get to our version of, "yes, and."

What is it about writing?

What is it about writing things out that changes everything?  

This blog has been so difficult to write of late though.  Rough drafts plague me but I see nothing yet worth sharing.  This morning I reflected upon the reasons why I started this blog project in the first place in November 0f 2012: I was creating a music festival from scratch and I needed a place to write about the challenges that I, an adult with lifelong ADHD, faced.  What I learned and what has brought me back here to write in February 2015 is that by compelling myself to share what I am working on, I am also compelled to work harder and to create a narrative that is worthy of your time.  

I am here to use this blog again to share my lifelong challenges with a brain that can be wonderfully creative and incredibly alive emotionally but also woefully deficient in linear thinking and follow-through.  

For me writing out a narrative equals more follow through.  And that is what I need right now.  

So I hope you join me again while I share this journey.