Does ADD Define Me?
This article first appeared in ADDitude Magazine online.
Of course not!
That’s a silly question!
Everyone knows that ADD is only one small part of me.
I am MORE than my ADD.
Right?
Then why are there websites and podcasts and books and organizers and therapists and, yes, coaches, who are eager to help me “deal with” my ADHD? They have tips and tricks and advice oozing from every pore and every page.
“Break the big job into smaller ones.”
“Begin with the end in mind.”
“Stop working on the computer two hours before bedtime.”
I’ve spent a lifetime memorizing these and hundreds of other helpful tips and tricks. I have schedulers and timers and colored folders and project management software. I’ve even recommended them to my clients. I know HOW to get organized, be on time, deliver on my promises. Yet I’ve mastered none of them. And frankly, I’m tired of trying.
I can’t shake the feeling that the world ‘out there’ believes that the operative word in Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder is “deficit.” That’s awfully close to “deficient.” And a long way from “fulfilled,” which is the adjective I’ve chosen to describe the rest of my life.
I unconsciously fall into it, this sense of being “less than” those perplexing folks whose neurotransmitters play together nicely. And I am usually unaware that I have clicked into my compensatory mode, either tap dancing to cover my deficits or applying a thick layer of my most effective Tips and Tricks. I can fake being “normal” for a while, but I have no endurance. The façade melts and I am exposed.
Now that I’m older, I don’t cringe nearly as often as I once did when I was “outed” as an ADDiva. But I do take a look at my patterns. With as much “work” as I’ve done with therapists, coaches, books and all the rest, I am dismayed to find that sometimes my gut response is still shame, followed by an urgent need to “try harder.” Even deeper though, is my realization that I am simply exhausted by the effort. It’s not worth it any more. To my body, my psyche, my energy.
Surely, surely, I can release the growling undercurrent that monitors my ADD-ish behaviors. Or at least notice it before it controls my thoughts and actions. When I’m on my deathbed, I don’t want my last words to be: “Well, I was almost linear!”
Of COURSE there is more to life than dealing with ADD. Everyone knows that. It’s the popular answer, ADD wisdom du jour. But honestly, how much of our lives ARE spent with ADD at the helm? If I am truthful, 100 percent. ADD isn’t a mask I can take off at night. I am not “more” than my ADD. I am ADD and ADD is I. Or perhaps ADD R Me.
So the harder question is: how do I move from “dealing with” ADD to “living with” ADD and thriving as a result of ADD? How do I look ADD in the eye, acknowledge its breath and depth and treat it as a respected ally instead of a pesky nuisance to be shooed away and thwarted at every turn?
I don’t have the answer. This inquiry deserves more than a flippant remark or a clichéd retort. My suspicion is that each of us will make peace (and friends) with our ADD with as much variety and creativity as our wild-child brains allow.
So I invite you into the question. How do YOU go deeper, beyond the “let’s fix it” stage? How do you put your arm around ADD and walk down the road with it, knowing that there is one absolute certainty: that ADD will never desert you? It is yours (and you) for as long as you live. How do you move from “endurance” to “fulfillment” starting right now?
My Dear Linda, Just wanted to let you know–I have just finished reading your article (“Does ADD Define Me?”), and must thank you for putting into words my own thoughts. I was not diagnosed until age 45 and two years later my husband is still “reminding” me that I've had “47 years to figure out how to handle the way” I am–but apparently I'd rather “use excuses [having ADD] for my lack of steady progress because I just don't want to work that hard.” It stings every time he says it. The shame wells up, as do the tears. But I've got to tell you: finding your web page gave me such a jolt of confirmation that my ADDiva-ness is real, rich, creative, and wonderful; and then reading this article of yours gave me assurance that I am not alone and I am not screwing up or doing it (my ADD) wrong. I am–we are–living, and learning as we live. Thank you so much for your inspiration. You rock, La ADDiva Linda!
Thank you Thank you Thank you! I found out I had ADD only a few months ago, and my first emotion was relief. Instead of all that guilt about not measuring up, I had an explanation and a community and resources! I think my perspective is a little different because I’ve always written and I’ve always been creative and very early on I knew my brain worked differently than other people’s brains. But that wasn’t a BAD thing — it was the part of me I valued. I just didn’t realize that the same thing that made me creative also made me disorganized and distracted.