We create systems so the children can undo them, of course...

...creating simple ways to do things can be the salvation of many an ADHDer, in relation to getting everyday stuff done around the house.

In our house, we strive to create some loose sense of routine at least, despite the fact that three of the five of us live at another house every four days. In other words, it's an extra layer of challenge. But that's okay. Life's like that.

The nature of the kids' mommy/daddy schedule though does create genuine challenges...for example, you can't create a day of the week specific schedule because they are not here on the same days of the week every week. Things like chores and household helping have to be worked in sort of spontaneously.

One of the wee girl's helping tasks that she likes is feeding the cats. Fine and dandy!

Let's talk about the cat's eating arrangements though:

We have two dogs, and two cats. We have to keep the voracious dogs out of the cat food and we have to keep the fat cat out of the dog food. So the cat food bowls live on the stairs to the basement where for some reason, the chihuahua will not venture, which keeps him from eating the food. Strangely the big dog also shuns the basement. So much the better.

When wee girl feeds the kitties, for some reason she is compelled to micro-manage their eating process to such a degree that she takes the bowls and MOVES THEM to a different place, every single time she feeds them with each bowl totally separated from the other, so that if you find one you still have to look for the other one...and she routinely forgets to put the scoop back in the cat food bin which usually means that it's rolling about on the kitchen floor somewhere, or it's been stolen and partially consumed by the chihuahua...and she often forgets to push the bin so that it snaps shut which of course defeats the whole purpose of having gotten a stay-tight container to keep those large quantities of kitty-kibble from drying out.

I'm sure you can picture the mild hysteria when I go to feed the cats after she has left to go back to her mum's house and I can't find the bowls, I can't find the scoop and as a cherry to the whole event, the bin has been left open.

I have had years of living with my brain to know that there are certain things you just have to do exactly the same every time or risk the peril of making your ADHD life completely fucking miserable. Wee girl is just 9 and so hasn't learned the benefits yet. I understand this...but in the moment when I am late for work because of my own ADHD quirks already, it sends me right over the edge of sanity. There's a lot of swearing involved, but it's okay because at that point there are no children home!

Some day it will all click for her...and I await that day with a grand and premature glee!

Does the peg, regardless of shape, ever fit?

Is this the perpetual dilemma of the ADHDer? Do we ever "fit"? Do we ever find a perfect place for ourselves in our world?

For years, I avoided having to fit myself anywhere, by simply keeping my options open. More recently, I have made targeted, calculated choices based on conscientiously selected criteria...and I still end up dissatisfied. I know that life can't ever be perfect. I would just like to be one of those people...one of those people who talk about how their home life is really "satisfying" to them, about how their job is really "fulfilling" and makes them "happy". About how their network of family and friends is the best a person could ever hope for...actually I DO feel like that a lot of the time, but because of my perpetual struggle with making time for "relaxation" I don't get all of the free-time with friends and family that I would like. That's not their fault though, they're still great.

Do I rely on a certain sense of dissatistfaction to keep me engaged? Do I require a feeling of unsettlement, in order to feel normal. Is slightly unhappy my default setting? And is it learned or inherent? Am I just a shapeshifting peg with a chronic case of refusal?

Or am I just in a really strange spot in life right now where I just don't feel quite "right" (despite the fact that I'm actually probably mentally healthier than I've ever been) because the pieces around me just aren't quite correct?

I love my family, but it's a fact that my home life is often stressful. My home is very different from what I grew up with...and totally different from anything I ever imagined it might be.

And my job...well it has its plusses but there are chunks of it that are simply not defined. I knew this going into it...but the feeling of moving through that reality is still awkward at times.

I'm usually able to write blog posts that come to a natural and pointed conclusion but today I just don't have it in me...because the nature of the issue is as filmy as an unwashed window.

A virtual get-me-the-fuck-outta-here

Sometimes (frequently, and recently with alarming frequency) I need a virtual get-me-the-fuck-outta-here. And if you have ADHD, you know that you do too.

A virtual get-me-the-fuck-outta-here can take many forms and can be different depending on the day, situation. A virtual get-me-the-fuck-outta-here is sometimes the difference between good and evil, between keeping your job and telling someone to go piss on themselves, between knowing you're right and telling everyone who will listen, and keeping it to yourself, a sweet secret.

Today's virtual get-me-the-fuck-outta-here: grooveshark.com. Grooveshark lets you find songs that you love, create playlists that you'll love even more...and you can change those playlists everytime you log in (which is what I prefer) OR you can save playlists for reuse. You can also put headphones on and listen to the same song over and over and over if it's the only thing that's going to get you through the day, without annoying your coworkers.

Today, I can tell you it's the only thing (aside from the methylphenidate that's wearing off and the nortriptyline that makes me waaaay mellower than I was at this time last year) keeping me a) employed b) sane c) sitting at this desk d) from losing my shit as I stick over 200 individual labels on individual envelopes e) interested in maintaining any form of status quo.

I have no comment on whether any of this is beneficial. I can't go there. I just know that it works.

And that Destroyer sounds like Al Stewart, the London Suede, Roxy Music and a tiny elf had a baby. A baby that makes me stuff envelopes faster.

Crafting: shabby chic style...

Last night, instead of letting the kids loose with a pile of dirty, muddy, delicious clay in the kitchen, I brought the whole brick out into the yard.

I set up a folding table in the driveway at the front of the house, where they were riding bikes and scooters around with a friend, so we could all hang out and make pinch pots (something we had been talking about doing all day).

Busted out the clay, made some great pinch pots, and a huge mess. A huge mess that, when we were done, I could simply hose off of the table and the driveway with a big hose!

1) Kids love making pinch pots and there's some really nice air-dry clay options out there that aren't expensive, don't need a kiln for drying, and are "real" clay for kids who have moved beyond the allure of the neon synthetic squishy stuff.

2) Doing it right out in the yard like that on a folding table was pure genius...cleaning that mess up in the kitchen would have been...challenging. And Sonny and I do not need any more challenges in the "keeping things tidy" department...

3) We are having WAY more fun in our yard than our grumpy neighbor is, in his perfectly manicured Stepford-yard. So THERE. But if he wanted to come make a pinch pot with us, I would absolutely welcome him with open arms. That's how we roll.

In just five minutes, five times/day...

...you TOO can have a glorious shabby chic garden!

I actually enjoy weeding, but even I often don't have the time or patience to devote hours to it. My solution: spend about 3-5 minutes weeding, every time I take the wee doggy out to pee. It's easy to remember, I mean the weeds are their own visual cue...the whole crux of the situation is that they don't go away on their own...so I take the pooch out, and while he finds a great spot on the lawn to burn with his urinary juices, I pull a handful or two of weeds.

I began my weeding career with my grandfather, in the summers, as a child...I pulled the weeds, and then, either we fed them to the sheep, or I would transplant the ones I liked to my own "weed garden" area, which I lined with rocks and pebbles and rusted trash bits that I found on the edges on my grandfathers yard (beds springs, gears, etc...).

Now, my Sonny benefits from my love affair with the weed...and so does the dog. And really, so does the grumpy neighbor. He has ME to THANK for the fact that our yard is weed free (though full credit for the actual garden goes to Sonny Rollins, master of the mulch, eradicator of overgrown "wildflowers", and divider of unmanaged hostas).

Shabby Chic

I just wrote a reply to a comment on a previous post, and it reminded me of, well, something I should probably just make into its own post.

Sonny and the kids and I live on a really cute little street in our small New England city, lined with houses that were probably all built around 1900. Houses that have been freshly and colorfully painted by our neighbors. Each house has a sweet little garden in front, with little solar lights that light up the sidewalks at night. It's very sweet. Visitors always remark how nice our little street is (some of the nearby streets are not so cute) ...even our visitors from Pakistan were impressed (and I don't know what their expectation of an American neighborhood would be).

In the middle of all this cuteness, we live in what I like to call the "Shabby Chic" house. We don't own, we rent, and the duplex is certainly in need of a paint job. It's not awful, but it is...shabby chic. Light brown, a little peely...one of the steps just fell through on the side porch when Sonny stepped on it. But we do have lovely gardens like our neighbors, thanks to Sonny's green thumb. It's quite lush and pretty, and mulched.

Our lights are a little different from our neighbors. Somehow, all of the neighbors have the same little solar lights that look like they are wearing little flat black helmets. Our are big crackly globe lights. With switches that allow you to make them either white or...gradually changing rainbows of COLOR! WHEEEE! We usually leave them set to white because Sonny thinks they're too Christmassy the other way...but the option is there!

And...it's challenging remembering to get the kids to pick up everything they've left in the yard all the time. We DO try, and we DO think it's a good thing for them to do, but sometimes we just need to keep our collective self rolling forward and the toys are forgotten.

And...Sonny and I both have a lot of activities and projects that involve a lot of gear...and often, that gear/equipment and supplies end up piled up on our front porch. I don't like it...but it's kind of a fact of our lives. Our apartment is small and there's really nowhere else to put it all sometimes and we're truly coming and going so fast that it's just impossible to keep up with. My husband is the kind of person that will get up early on a Saturday to clean the grout in the kitchen tiles with bleach, so we are not total slobs (not that there is ANYTHING WRONG with being a total slob). But...we're two really busy people with three really busy young children, three of us are diagnosed with ADHD and sometimes...it takes us a week to get around to moving one pile of stuff so we can replace it with another. I'm just sayin'.

As such, I'm pretty sure that our neighbor across the street, with the truly gorgeous, impeccably manicured lawn, the really finely ground mulch (we can only afford the chunky stuff) and the absolutely spotless property...hates us. And there is no interaction that should have led to this, in fact we have been there for over a year and haven't really interacted with him at all past the usual "hello".

And the other day when Sonny went over to chat with our next door neighbors, and this other neighbor was there chatting with them...he stopped talking when Sonny stepped into the conversation, and wouldn't join back in. Then left.

Rawr. I can't claim to know what it's about...but I will say that it pushes my buttons because I already feel self-conscious about our clutter level...even though I love my quirky little home and my quirky little family.

Or should I say: my shabby chic little home and my shabby chic little family.

My children run around with Nutella on their faces. So what?! My globe lights aren't little soldier lights. So what?! My third-world slum porch is cluttery. So what?! So we had a funk band playing in our basement. So what?!

So what. Unfortunately, it does bother me. But I guess life is short and ADHD is long. And I can only do what I can do. Someday when I don't have three young children at home and a husband who works by day and plays gigs with like 800 bands by night, and a small business and a full day job...maybe then my yard will be perfect too. And I'll have so much time on my hands that I can finely grind my own mulch BY HAND with like, a microplane...artisan mulch...YEAH...

Or...my porch will still be cluttery and my neighbor can go fuck himself.

Quantitative progress

Here's what they don't tell you when they say "try meds": it might take months or years to really adjust.

Not only adjust to the medication, but to NEW ways of feeling, new ways of being, and new ways of acting. And that's if you don't resist because it feels too different!

It has taken me...seems like about 2.5 years to find the right dosages, meds, behavior adjustments. This may not be typical, but for me, it is simply the way of things.

I now go to bed at between 10pm and 12am...which is soooo much better than between 1am and 3am.

I am way more laid back. I manage to find my motivation these days most of the time, when I need it.

I can have conversations usually without feeling like my heart is going to explode out of my chest.

I can make myself STOP TALKING more easily when I notice that it's probably time for that to happen.

I get intensely annoyed, irritated and pissy FAR less often.

My ambient general anxiety level is MUCH lower.

I am better at editing my thought processes, particularly in the area of starting new projects. Sometimes this makes me sad...sometimes I think I over edit these days...and so I'm seeking smaller ways to inject fun, without formulating additional world domination plans (to run concurrently to the plan already in progress). For example, I can make a Barbie dress for my stepdaughter in an hour and it's a fun, creative diversion that can leave me refreshed to do more boring shit afterward. Ah ha! Instead of, you know...writing a novel in an afternoon or something.

Now then, new challenges in life have brought me, well, new challenges to how I deal with certain life situations. But I think that's progress. I'm not stuck on the same old shit. I'm moving forward. Some of the new challenges are bigger than the old ones...but part of the reason for that is that being stuck on some little shit prevented me from encountering the bigger shit. Well fine...I'll take that.

And so the thought hit me...the other day...that I really do believe that my life is better than it was. That it's all been worth it. That deciding to be treated for anxiety and ADHD was a good idea.

It's a mildly bittersweet satisfaction...if only because the experiences along the way have really been very intense. But the net result is a good one.