I’ve heard people say their ADHD makes them more fun, or more flexible. They can go with the flow.
Me, not so much. I bristle at the use of an overhead light after dark. When I opened the case for my (non-prescription) “TV glasses” at the beginning of a vacation and realized I’d left the glasses themselves at home, I felt so despondent and frustrated I threw the empty case at the ground. I’m the kind of person who has to decide if spontaneous dinner plans are really worth rescheduling the leftover night I had planned.
In other words, I can be inflexible. Set in my ways. Intolerant of certain sensory irritations.
Unless there’s a bona fide crisis. Then my brain is either too overstimulated or too thirsty for novelty to react poorly. Then I can be a force of calm and support.
Don’t push me too far?
My husband infamously called me at work a month before our wedding to tell me he was denied approval to travel for our honeymoon. I was already having a rough day at work, and I had no brain space to process what it might mean to cancel the two-week cruise we’d planned. I gently reassured him it wasn’t his fault and I wasn’t mad. We’d figure it out.
Meanwhile, my husband was feeling worse by the second. He was trying to find a good place to interject and say, “April Fools!” The joke was, in some ways, on him. It’s easy to get a rise out of me. He’d relied on this. But if you push me too far, you’ll have the opposite effect.
See also: my elementary school records. I was apt to throw a chair at someone who called me “Jackie” knowing full well I went by my full name. When I cut my finger badly enough on the playground to require three stitches, I calmly walked over to the recess monitor and told her, “I think I need to go to the nurse.”
A tale of holiday weekends and collapsed sewer pipes.
A couple weeks ago we embarked on our customary Memorial Day trip to the beach to celebrate my dad’s birthday. Even though it’s considered the unofficial kickoff for the summer season, I find late May at the Jersey Shore pretty darn unpredictable. This trip has delivered its fair share of ups and downs over the years.
This year began on a definitive up. My dad’s birthday fell on Saturday, an ideal day to celebrate during a long weekend. The weather was as good as Memorial Day gets. All of us were there: my dad’s two daughters, our partners, the kiddo. We prepared a really lovely dinner together. By nine thirty or so, the six of us were winding down and calling the day a success.
Then I went to take the last shower and discovered a few inches of standing water in the tub. The bathroom sink drained slowly. The toilet gave a weak flush and…bubbled up into the tub.
I emerged from the bathroom and said, “Folks, we have a problem.”
So kicked off not a period of languid summer vibes but a scramble to navigate a collapsed sewer line in the middle of a holiday weekend.
Why don’t I despair when despair is warranted?
This is just the sort of thing one might expect to send me spiraling. Not only was our weekend completely derailed, I had plans to return the following week for a long-awaited getaway with a friend. No one would blame a person known to lose their grip over an overhead light for declaring this an unmitigated disaster.
I didn’t, though. Before we knew what the problem was and how long it might take to fix, I volunteered to stay as long as needed, to be the point person who met with contractors. Without a toilet. Without knowing how long or if I’d be able to come home between this and my visit with my friend. Without my ergonomic vertical computer mouse or my TV glasses, even.
I had the privilege to help make all this work, and I didn’t give it a second thought. I lept straight in.
The thing is, I never would’ve done this under normal circumstances. I routinely fuss over the logistics of going to the grocery store or making plans with friends. There are very few occasions when I can successfully play a plan by ear.
Why, then, do I not whine and despair when the situation actually warrants it?
Stress and novelty: nature’s ADHD meds?
Maybe it’s my desire to help and support the people I love. I like to feel valued and needed (though I definitely prize being needed a lot less than I used to). Plus, I know I can be weird and particular. I’m not the easiest person to live with. I struggle with a lot of the basics. And then sometimes I’m uniquely suited to help get us all through a tough situation. That’s pretty gratifying.
Or maybe it’s the adventure. A minor crisis breaks the monotony of everyday life and awakens a competitive, survivalist spirit within me. It crowds out my restlessness and funnels my energy in a productive direction. I do get exhausted by protracted crises (see: 2020), but as long as I can give it my full attention I usually take it in stride. I can even have an almost childish sense of adventure about it.
Maybe it’s simple novelty. Human brains are wired for novelty, and ADHD only intensifies the effect. When something goes really sideways on vacation, it throws you straight into the unexpected and unplanned. A healthy dose of stress alongside this novelty can act like nature’s ADHD medication.
I’m the problem, it’s…oh wait not me this time.
So often, I feel like I’m the problem in my life, or at least I’m causing the problem. I have to laugh when my reaction to a significant external problem is, essentially, “At least it’s not my fault this time…and hey, it could always be worse!”
Maybe it’s a consolation prize, a small token to offset all the times I’ve forgotten a pot on the stove, or gone hungry because I couldn’t figure out which snack to eat, or once again had no idea what day it is. At least when things go really wrong, people can usually count on me to be present, upbeat, and resourceful.
Still — it’d be nice to be those things on a normal day. And I’m working on it. All I ask is that others please support my efforts by turning off that godforsaken overhead light. No one needs that much noise in the evening.
Your turn: do you have funny stories about disproportionate reactions on both ends of the spectrum? Do you ever wish things were different, or do you think it all balances out in the end?
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