Loving the ADHD Brain

Posted on by stilllearning2b

On one of our early dates, Brock and I loaded Tiger in the car and drove a few minutes away to a trail along the river. Almost immediately upon arrival, we realized that there was no leash in the car. While my brain was stuck on the idea that we had to drive back to his place to retrieve a leash, his brain, quickly and smoothly, had already solved the problem. Without a word and with no hesitation, Brock popped open the trunk, removed the strap from a briefcase-style work bag and promptly attached one of the hooks to Tiger’s collar.

I was impressed.

And I told him as such while we began our stroll. And his explanation made me laugh.

“I’m good at getting myself into predicaments, so I’ve had to learn to be good at getting out of them.”

At some point in childhood, Brock acquired the label of ADHD. As I’ve discussed before, I see labels as a type of shorthand. A sticky note version of reality, meant to give an overview and then to be discarded once the person is known in his or her entirety.

In the case of our relationship, the label was helpful in the beginning because it helped give me some framework for our differences and helped me develop an understanding of the bigger picture.

Before we started dating, I was no stranger to ADHD. As a teacher, I have several kids a year that meet the clinical diagnosis (and, yes, many more that don’t seem to yet are still labeled and often medicated). I have friends who qualify and so I’ve seen the strengths and struggles the diagnosis provided with work and family life.

But it’s different when it’s your partner. For one, it’s much harder not to take it personally. It also becomes something that you have to learn to work with rather than fight against, as that battle only feeds frustration.

From the beginning, I was impressed with how aware of his ADHD Brock was and of the strategies he implemented in his life to mitigate its impacts. Wrestling and martial arts allowed him to bleed the excess physical energy. Self-imposed structure helped to reduce forgetfulness or impulsivity. As with the leash incident, Brock became adept at problem solving in the moment, working around any minor catastrophes instead of letting them derail him.

He was an expert when we met. I was still a novice.

But I think we’ve done pretty well at navigating ADHD in the context of a relationship. We laugh more than we snarl and we’ve found solutions where they could be found and understanding where there is no easy answer.

As with any label, the people who live under the umbrella of ADHD are not all alike. They have their own personalities and experiences that greatly outshine the characteristics that tend to come with the label. Nonetheless, there are certain traits that are commonly associated with ADHD. And without understanding, these attributes can have a negative impact on a relationship.

As with anything, your perception is your reality. If you see the deficits in ADHD, your focus will be on the struggle. Each deficit or difficulty also has an asset. Strive to see the gifts and your focus will shift.

 

Difficulty: Distractibility

Asset: Multi-Level Processing

The ADHD brain is receiving and processing information at several levels simultaneously. Whereas my brain my looks like a four-lane freeway, his looks like a busy interchange. It took me some time to truly appreciate how much Brock is listening (and considering), even when his attention is divided. At first, I took it very personally when he would pick up his phone or interrupt with a random observation while I was talking. But those disruptions were not because of a lack of attention or interest on his part; he was simply vocalizing what happens in his brain much of the time. I’m often amazed at the conclusions or solutions he can arrive at while attaining to other tasks.

I’ve started to master his rhythms and learned when he is more likely to be operating at multiple levels and when he has an easier time focusing on one. I’ve become comfortable with being assertive about asking for focus and attention. And, I’ve discovered that our best conversations often occur while we are moving, the body’s actions helping to still the mind.

The flip side of ADHD’s distractibility is the capacity of the person to have hyper-focus. It’s amazing what can be accomplished during these periods. Just stay out of the way and let it happen:)

 

Difficulty: Forgetfulness

Asset: Problem Solving

 

This was the upside I first discovered on that walk with Tiger. I was so impressed because coming up with a novel solution in a pressured moment is something I struggle with. In fact, one of the reasons I like to plan so much is so that I don’t have to be put on the spot!

This difficulty definitely has its frustrating side. I frequently find myself engaged in hunts for remotes, keys, wallet, phone…you name it, he’s lost it. But it always turns up again and, while we’re looking, we may as well laugh about it. The long-standing joke in our house is that I find some perverse pleasure in hiding his belongings when he’s not looking.

But we have also witnessed the amazing responses of strangers, from the countless restaurants that have called regarding his wallet left behind to the man who found Brock’s keys and tracked him down through a PetSmart tag.

And its blessed me with an ease I now carry. I no longer feel as compelled to over plan and over stress. I trust that he’ll be able to find a solution even if we forget something. And that’s pretty cool:)

 

Difficulty: Neatness

Asset: Acceptance

 

This was the biggest stressor for me. My preference is for a neat and clutter-free environment. In my first marriage, everything in the house matched and the home was always picked up and everything had a place. It was easy; my ex and I had a similar threshold for messiness and we worked together to maintain that ideal.

With Brock, that state of neatness is simply not attainable. He makes an effort, but the ADHD brain is simply not as tuned in (or bothered by) clutter as mine is.

Cabinet doors remain open, clothes litter the bedroom floor and random items clutter the kitchen island. He’s not messy in a normal sense, he just leaves a trail behind him because his brain is working on other tasks. It used to drive me completely crazy. The clutter would make me tense, my anxiety increasing with every stain or sock.

But then I adapted. And I accepted. And, you know what? The house may not look perfect, but I’m relaxed. I learned tricks to hide the inevitable stains like buying removable covers for the throw pillows and replacing the white kitchen towels with black ones. I implemented a few systems to help with organization. I have my own bathroom and my own office, so I always have a couple spaces that don’t sprout clutter. I don’t worry anymore about creating perfection before a friend comes over, which leads to many more visits.

We made a joint decision before I moved in that we would hire someone to clean once a month. That investment is critical for us; it keeps a cluttered house from becoming an issue in the marriage. I love the feeling when I come home right after the house cleaner leaves. And now, I accept that it won’t last so I just appreciate it in the moment. And then just let it be 🙂

 

 

Difficulty: Impulsivity

Asset: Fun

 

I live my life largely by plans and procedures. Even my lists have lists. But the most fun I have comes in those unplanned moments. And Brock is great at those.

The first time he caught me off guard was very early on in our relationship. I was working on moving out of my friend’s house and into an apartment and I had just discovered hundreds of dollars of unpaid utility bills left by my ex. I was upset (understatement) as I was trying to come to terms with yet another financial assault. I pulled into Brock’s driveway, shaking and teary-eyed with anger. His response? He flipped over into a handstand and made a goofy face at me. I couldn’t help but laugh, the anger dissipating with my smile.

We actually balance each other really well in this area. He speaks planning well enough that we can sketch out vacations or schedule dates. And I’m flexible enough to change that plan. We make sure the important stuff gets done and we’re not afraid to have some unplanned fun along the way. Spontaneity keeps life interesting:)

 

Every relationship has its challenges. Every person brings areas of weakness and of strength into the partnership. It’s worth taking the time to learn how to work with those differences. And maybe even appreciate them. I know I do.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go hide his keys:)

 

I liked this description of what it’s like living with ADHD.

 

 

 

 

 

I Loved My Husband Last Night

Posted on by stilllearning2b
my husband

I loved my husband last night.

 

He rubbed my legs, sore and stiff from the demands of the end of the school year.

But that’s not why I loved him.

 

He took me out to dinner to get some gluten free pizza that I’ve been craving for weeks.

But that’s not why I loved him.

 

We had a great conversation about our hopes and dreams and plans for semi- and real retirement.

But that’s not why I loved him.

 

In fact, the reason I loved him had nothing to do with me at all.

 

The young waiter at the restaurant last night was having a rough time. Our salads never came out. My husband’s order was somehow replaced with a sub par facsimile. My husband expressed his displeasure when the waiter came around to check on the order. I could tell the young guy was flustered. He flipped to our order in his tablet to confirm he recorded the right dish. Based upon his utterances, I think he understood the order but wrote it in a way that was confusing to decipher. He walked off to handle the kitchen and put in the request for the right dish.

The manager came around and told us the replacement would be out soon. My husband indicated he really just wanted the salad which was ordered almost a half hour prior.

The waiter returned to tell us the new meal was on its way and asked if we needed anything. “Just our salads,” my husband said, “But I think your boss is getting them now.”

A look of pure shame and frustration fell over the waiter’s face, the final curtain after a poorly received act. As he walked towards the back, I saw his arms go up to his face as though they wanted to punish him and shield him at the same time.

I mentioned my observation to my husband, as he was facing the other way.

And what he did next is the reason I loved him.

When the correct order was finally placed in front of him (a grilled pizza slathered in peppers and mushrooms), he called the waiter over. The boy approached, hesitantly. “This is awesome!” my husband exclaimed, reaching out for a fist bump with the surprised waiter.

When the manager again came to check on us, my husband stated, “Tell our waiter he’s doing a really good job making sure that everything’s okay.”

And on the check, he added the words, ‘Thank you. Good job!” above the tip line.

 

I loved my husband last night not because of what he does for me or for our family but for what he did for a stranger who was having a rough night.

I loved my husband last night for making the effort to make someone smile and for bringing some good into someone’s day.

I loved my husband last night for his empathy and generosity.

I loved my husband last night for reaching out even when he had nothing to gain in return.

 

Maybe the way we treat waiters really does reveal our true selves.

 

 

Mommies Are…

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I test drove motherhood this week.

I was one of 18 chaperones on a three-day trip to Savannah with over 200 8th graders.

I love these trips, but they are such a shock to my system as I go from no kids to being completely responsible for a group of 16 and sharing responsibility for the others.

My days started with me trying to grab sips of coffee while I made the rounds, making sure students were awake and appropriately dressed, administering medication and giving sage advice to address the issues that arise overnight when you stick four teenage girls in a room together.

Breakfast, usually my peaceful time in front of the computer, was taken standing up in the lobby of the hotel so that I could direct the girls and strive to keep their voices at a semi-reasonable level. I think I managed two bites of hot oatmeal before it congealed.

Through the day, I lugged a large backpack filled with their medications and the day’s schedule. I was nurse, tour guide and counselor in one. I made sure that sunscreen and bug spray were applied. And then reapplied. I cautioned them about the effects of the overconsumption of sugar and the need to bring a jacket. I even found myself repeating the dreaded mom words, “Just try,” at the limited bathroom opportunities.

I swear the girls knew the moment I stepped into the shower at the end of the long days as the phone would start to ring as soon as I applied the shampoo to my hair – the hotel equivalent of calling “Mom” across the house.

By the time all of the girls were settled in their rooms, I would collapse, exhausted.

Yet unable to sleep.

The details of the days are tiring, but it is nothing compared to the weight of responsibility that motherhood, even of the three-day variety, holds. I saw potential dangers lurking around previously harmless corners. Every stranger was a threat, every body of water a potential drowning and every curb provided an opportunity to fall. At night, I found that I could not enter deep sleep, as I was constantly listening for the kids.

 

 

When I was a kid, the pastor at my church would call all of the children up to the steps in front of the pulpit for a brief children’s message embedded within the larger sermon. One year when I was about four, the pastor celebrated Mother’s Day by beginning with the prompt, “Mommies are” and then holding out the microphone for the kids to complete the sentence.

The first few shares were your standard:

“Mommies are nice.”

“Mommies are pretty.”

“Mommies are gentle.”

And then the microphone was put in front of me. My contribution on that Mother’s Day?

“Mommies are tired.”

 

Yes, they are. Motherhood is a job with the biggest responsibilities possible and no time off. Motherhood is a job that, just when you think you have it figured out, your kid enters a new phase; you’re in perpetual training. Motherhood is a job that requires that your own needs are neglected so that your offspring’s needs are met.

It is tiring.

But is also rewarding beyond belief, as reflected in the faces of the moms as they reunited with their kids at the end of the trip. I’m sure they enjoyed their three days of peace and quiet but they were thrilled to see their kids (even stinky, cranky, hopped-up-on-sugar kids:) )again.

As for me, I enjoyed the test drive but this particular model is not for me. I’ll stick with teaching!

Happy Mother’s Day to all you tired mommies. I am in awe of what you do every day.

Vantage Point

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Let me state right up front that I am not a parent. Apart from living with an infant for a year, I have not resided with a child. I have never experienced the fear that grips when you lose sight of your child in a park. I have never felt the aching pull when you have to be at work and your child is ill. I have never felt the overwhelming joy when your child takes his first step or reads her first book.

But that’s not to say I’m ignorant of parenting. I’ve spent the past thirteen years teaching 13 and 14 year olds. It’s a pivotal point in their lives; this is when they are starting to apply the lessons they learned in childhood. They are beginning to separate from their parents and take their first tentative steps into the bigger world. And it’s an interesting vantage point.

There are aspects of parenting I will never understand or appreciate. I have the utmost respect for those who parent selflessly. It’s a difficult job.

And it’s one that I often see people approach as though they’re afraid they will be terminated.

But the thing about parenting is that, if you do it well, you will lose the job.

That’s the point.

The goal of parenting should not be to be the parent possible or even to create the best kids possible.

It’s to raise the best adults possible.

It’s a blend of accepting the realities of the moment (terrible twos anyone?) yet always keeping in mind the intended outcomes. It’s about being the parent that your child needs, not the parent you would prefer to be (or the parent your parent was).

Based on my observations on the thousands of teenagers that have crossed my path over the years, these are the most important lessons to give your children:

Perseverance

Let your child fail but don’t let them internalize failure. Let them see you struggle and let them see what you gain when you do. Teach them that everything worthwhile in life requires effort. Discourage the use of the words, “I can’t.” Encourage them. Celebrate success but also celebrate attempts. Especially repeated ones. Remind them of skills they now take for granted that took tenacity to develop. Teach them the difference between quitting and letting go. Give them love but make them earn respect. If you give them everything, they become like a lion in a zoo. Unable to hunt on their own.

Empathy

Expose your child to the larger world. Do not attempt to hide all suffering. Suffering is part of life. Teach your child to respect and honor it. Model empathy. Use stories in books and movies as an opportunity to have them express what a character is feeling. Give them an opportunity to care for another. Even if it’s just a fish.

Integrity

Be careful what you model; they will do as you do, not what you say. Reward honesty. Discuss implications of dishonesty, both personal and societal. When they call you out when your actions do not match your words (this WILL happen), admit it. And then fix it.

Responsibility

Teach them that their response is always a choice. Nobody can make them feel or act a certain way. Discuss consequences of choices and then let them happen. A consequence must be felt to be effective. Don’t intervene in every situation. There will come a time when you can’t and your child needs to learn how to fight for himself.

Humility

Teach them that if they think they know everything, they will learn nothing. “I don’t know” is a starting point, not a conclusion. Let them see you learn. Show that you are human. And fallible. And teach them that they are too.

Gratitude

Have them create gratitude lists, whether through bedtime prayers or in a journal. Highlight the positives. Teach them that whatever they nurture will grow and help them grow life’s flowers. Don’t just tell them they have it good; show them. Gratitude is a powerful tool; help them learn to wield it.

It’s easy to get caught up in the thousands of details that fill each day as a parent. But in the end, the lessons above are the ones that really matter. Teach those and you will put yourself out of a job. And this is one job you want to lose.

Because the severance package is pretty awesome.

Love Bites

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When we are in the heady, passion and potential-fueled early days of a relationship, contact is frequent. Almost constant. Your new partner is always on your mind, providing jolts of neurotransmitter bliss. That rush comes from the novelty of the experience; each encounter or imagined encounter is novel and exciting. That high of new passion has an expiration date; as the novelty fades and realism seeps in, the jolts are no longer as powerful or as frequent.

There’s a trade-off, of course. Lust may not be as powerful but trust is built. The excitement of the unknown is replaced with the security and comfort of connection. One of the balances acts in any long term relationship is how to maintain the passion within the context of commitment and stability.

The trick is that anything new or exciting injects the same into the relationship. Routine is critical for life yet deadly for relationships. So shake it up. Add some mystery or surprise. It doesn’t have to be grand. Or expensive. Or time consuming.

An adventure trip is awesome.

But so are love bites.

Love bites are simply little gestures that let your partner know that he or she is on your mind. It’s best if they’re random. The surprise is important. Serious is fine and silly is awesome. It can be a language understood by all or one only shared between the two of you. They can be notes, or texts or drawings.

Brock and I created a new one earlier this spring. I bought some silly gel clings for Valentine’s Day that spelled out, “I love you” and “U rock” on the fridge, along with an assortment of sticky hearts and even a gel electric guitar. That evening, Brock removed one of the hearts and hid it in my shower. I removed another and placed it on his mirror. This game has continued, with hearts appearing in strange locations around the house. I even lifted my toilet lid the other day to find one on the seat! Even though we somewhat expect them, the location and timing is always a surprise. It’s fun on both ends and a wonderful way to exchange love bites during a busy week.

photo-7

For the giver, a love bite is a momentary reminder of the gratitude for the partner and the relationship. For the recipient, a love bite is a rush. A smile. A wonderful feeling of being acknowledged and loved. It’s oxytocin on one end and dopamine on the other. And the brain doesn’t know that it’s coming from a little love bite. It just knows it feels good.