Some ADHD "experts" are quite good at giving advice and offering solutions to ADD-ish issues. Many of them, however, are loath to reveal their own challenges. Not me. I’m right out there with my mishaps, no matter how embarrassing.

To wit:

I just took the door off the ADDiva-mobile this morning. By running into my other, older car.

Oh no.

You know that sickening sound of metal crushing metal? That’s what I experienced as I backed out of the garage on the way (late of course) to an all day women’s Soul Circles event with one of my favorite gurus, Anita. It was a lovely sunny day, a crisp wind out of the north. And I needed this renewal time. I was overdue.

In fact, I was thinking just that when I put the Prius in reverse and backed up slowly. I heard a little thump and realized – uh oh – I had nudged my black Lexus SUV. Panicked, and hoping that there was no damage, I opened the driver’s side door to take a peek, then started to pull forward.

Unfortunately, the car was still in reverse. The Prius hit the Lexus even harder. Panicked even more, I desperately hit the brake, harder and harder.

Unfortunately, it was the accelerator pedal under my foot. I was actually accelerating backwards, accelerating the damage to both cars. "No, no no NO!" I was screaming at myself, at the world, at the cars.

When I finally took my foot off the pedal/accelerator/supposed-to-be-brake the door to the Prius was bent completely backwards and rested on the front fender. I almost cried, but I was in shock.

Obviously, I couldn’t get out the driver’s side door — there was a black car blocking the opening. So I climbed over the passenger seat and ran in to tell Victor. A few tears gathered, but I couldn’t make them fall.

"I’m not going to the women’s day after all," I said, slamming the kitchen door. "I just wrecked the Prius AND the Lexus."

Victor couldn’t have been more gentle. He didn’t get mad. He didn’t tell me how dumb it was to hit my own car WITH my own car. He just said: "You didn’t do it on purpose, sweetie."

The long and short of the rest of the story is that I called a friend who managed to get the door on the Prius partly closed and we drove it to a body shop for the rest of the weekend. Monday will be fine to get an estimate.

The Lexus is drivable, thank goodness. But it has an ugly smear of scratches and dents on the passenger side. I hate driving it around – proof of my distracted brain.

I am SO mad at myself. It will cost precious money that I need to devote to GardenSpirit (we are getting closer to approvals from the bureacracies). It will probably increase my insurance premiums (but there is too much damage to avoid turning it in to Farm Bureau).  And I missed my day of renewal and respite that I desperately needed.

There is always a bright spot to every tragedy (if this can be considered a tragedy). Over the years, Victor has opened the door of his little RX8 into the side of my black Lexus, leaving a line of little chips in the paint. Now the whole side needs to be repaired, which will also take care of those little dings! Yay!

But it sure would have been cheaper to touch them up…and a lot better if I’d remembered to renew my Adderall prescription sooner so I might have had some on board before I got in that car today.

And that, is the end of the story….for now

This article first appeared in ADDitude Magazine online.

I’ve learned to accommodate my ADHD’s quirks and demands. But when I start to ignore it, pretend it doesn’t exist, even try to brush it off like a bit of fluff, my ADHD buzzes to life.

You know the axiom: “It takes a village to raise a child?” Well, “it takes a party” to get my house and yard clean on the same day!

Last night was the annual party for my husband’s lab students. We’ve hosted the event for five or six years, so I have the pre-party To Do list down to a science. Order the Mexican food. Make the sangria. Try to get in (and out of) the shower before the first guest arrives. (That hasn’t happened yet; don’t people know NOT to arrive on time at an ADD-driven event?)

The day after the party is like a holiday for me. I walk around in a state of semi-amazement that I (temporarily) live in a place that is picture perfect. There are no piles in the kitchen. The carpet has no stains. The pillows are fluffed and the dust settled.  At least for the moment.

Even the landscaping is flawless. This morning, still wearing my nightgown, I went outside to “survey my domain.” What a thrill it was to see a freshly mown lawn, mulched flowerbeds, blueberries ready to burst into luscious sweetness. Ah, life is good. So good. Perhaps it would stay like this forever…

My two faithful Shelties, Boomer and Cosmo, convinced me that no idyllic setting was complete without breakfast. So I meandered back to the kitchen and pulled out the dog bowls. I noticed a tickle on my shoulder, so I casually reached up to scratch it when a loud “Bzzzzzzzzzz” exploded near my right ear. In a nanosecond, I screamed, yanked my nightgown over my head and threw it to the floor.

“What’s wrong?” my husband asked, as he ran into the kitchen.

“There’s a bee in my nightgown!” I gasped. “Get it out of here!”

Victor (my hero) grabbed the nightgown (as I grabbed a robe), took it out to the deck and shook it to release the bee. The bee wouldn’t let go. The creature – a large bumblebee of some sort – hung on for dear life. Victor shook harder. Apparently, the bee adored my nightgown; it would not loosen its grip.

Finally, Victor managed to scrape the bee onto the patio table, where it fell on its back, spun around drunkenly and then righted itself. I pulled my nightgown back on, still shuddering that unknowingly I’d carried a bee on my shoulder for – how long? Ten minutes? Twenty? Fortunately, there was no sign of a bee sting.

By the time I calmed down, I realized that the episode was a perfect metaphor for my ADHD. Like the bee, my ADHD hitches a ride on my life. Most of the time, it glides along quietly; I’ve learned to accommodate its quirks and demands. But when I start to ignore it, pretend it doesn’t exist, even try to brush it off like a bit of fluff, my ADHD buzzes its warning:

“You can’t get rid of me (bzzzzzzz!). I’m here forever (bzzzzzzz!). Work with me and it’ll be fine (bzzzzzzz!). Fight with me and you might get stung (bzzzzzzz!)."

Point well taken (if you’ll excuse the pun). I know better than to imagine that weeds will never grow again in my flowerbeds; weeds grow in everyone’s flowerbeds. And I know that I can’t dislodge my ADHD from its private perch. It’s tenacious. It likes me. It’s my lifelong companion.

So when the piles reappear on the island in my kitchen – as they most certainly will – I’ll be reminded of that stubborn bee and its warning: "I’m here. This is reality. Do what you have to do to take care of yourself. I’m not going away."

ADHD buzzes in my ear every day. I respect it. I take care of myself. And sometimes I weed the flowerbeds. Even the ones with bees…

Visited my family over the weekend and my impulsivity hit at the checkout counter of the local discount store. Picked up a copy of one of my all time favorite movies, Funny Girl.

Not only do I love the music, but the costumes and the rags-to-riches storyline. And Omar Sharif. And Streisand, of course.

Those bedraggled yellow roses Fanny Brice clung to on that tugboat? Fabulous.

It reminded me of how often ADDivas play Funny Girl in a variety of roles: snappy comebacks, witty jokes, sarcastic comments.

I’ve certainly done it. Cracked a joke so that people laugh with me instead of AT me.

Peeking underneath those funny girl jokes I find a jelly belly of fear and insecurity. Some real. Some imagined.

I’ve realized in recent years that jokes keep me safe, but they also hold me away from people, keep them from knowing me more fully. Of course, that’s just what I intend. If they really KNEW me, they’d run for the hills, right?

Maybe not. Perhaps being known starts with raw honesty instead of jokes. Unveiling who I am – the real me – is my first step towards self acceptance. And when I can accept me (like me? love me?) then I don’t need the funny girl facade any longer.

"Life is far from sunny
When the laugh is over
And the joke’s on you
A girl’s gotta have a sense of humor
That’s one thing you really need for sure,
When you’re a funny girl
The fellow said, a funny girl
Funny, how it ain’t so funny, funny girl."
-Jule Steyne, composer, 1968

All through the ADDiva homes, there were receipts a’rustling and eyes getting bleary….

Oh, maybe that was just at my house…

Why DO I do this every year? I know better. I have just as much time as the people who file on time instead of getting an extension (sigh). I swear this year will be different. But it’s not.

But you know what? It’s a choice I make, right?

I choose whether to watch American Idol or input my Costco receipts (yes, this is an American Idol household, blush blush). And if it was really really REALLY important to me, I would commit to doing it differently, change my attitude toward time and then march to a different drummer.

Clearly I don’t value being on time with the taxes as much as I value other things. Like going to Meetup (support group) or playing with my Shelties or writing in this blog.

So for 2008 (hey, at least I’m working on the right YEAR of taxes!) I will put in my last minute hours again.

Here’s wishing you many happy …uh …. returns

Hugs

Linda

Some of you know the saga of GardenSpirit Guesthouse but most of you do not.

GardenSpirit is my dream come true retreat house for women that I created from a suburban house, transformed it into a cottage wonderland and now use it for my own retreats and for other women’s groups and personal retreats.

About two weeks ago, I got an email from the local planning department telling me to close down immediately, then another one from the local health department telling me the same thing. Not that GardenSpirit is unhealthy but because I haven’t been operating as a business, but rather as a private person giving retreats.

I thought it might be no problem, but dealing with the government is far far far worse than I ever imagined. The people aren’t at fault, but the regulations and hoops they are trying to make me jump through border on ridiculous. Here’s an example:

I have a moderate size four bedroom house. When I added on to the deck a couple of years ago, I put in a ramp so that wheelchair bound women could get into the sunroom. I don’t have a handicapped accessible bathroom yet. The planning people are saying I have to put in PERMANENT concrete ramps inside the house to get people into the bedrooms. Because of the slope requirements, the ramp would have to be 12 feet long. The room is only 11 feet long. The next tier ramp has to be 8 feet long and will block access for everyone else to get out the sliding glass doors. See what I mean? I feel like bumper pool, trying so hard to make everyone happy and feeling like it’s going nowhere fast.

Let me be clear — I absolutely believe in providing handicapped access to GardenSpirit. I already started with the deck ramp. I am willing to buy portable ramps for the house, even look at installing a handicapped bath in the garage (the only place available). But they want me to widen the halls to 36 inches wide – with a stairway on one side and heating ducts on the other . Impossible without rebuilding the entire house. Which is…impossible.

Because the county doubled the stream buffer to 110 feet, which means I cannot do ANY construction in the house. NONE. See what I mean?? There are a lot more of these "push me into a corner and watch me twist into a pretzel to try to meet their standards."

I have been pretty darned depressed, almost frantic, the last couple of weeks. But yesterday I found out that the Dept of Justice which administers the Americans with Disabilities Act requires only that I make accommodations that are "readily achievable without much difficulty or expense." Whew!

I can certainly add on to the parking pad for a van accessible space. And I can replace the door knobs with lever handles AND buy that portable ramp. Otherwise I will be completely shut down. I can’t believe that’s what the Universe has in mind. GardenSpirit has healed and helped so many women and couples already. It has so much more to offer.

So now that I have bounced off the basement floor, I am coming on back to you, ADDivas. We have a heck of a month planned for April. Video; snippets of my new book; fabulous guests and MORE. Yay. It feels good to be back home with you.

xxoo

David Allen is on to something and he’s making the most of it.

His Getting Things Done model (GTD) works – not only for linear folks but for ADDivas as well.

It’s a flow that helps eliminate clutter and get things..uh D-O-N-E (which if you don’t know by now, is my favorite four letter word!).

I just saw a simplified diagram of his flow in the Costco magazine (my favorite place to shop for almost anything). I won’t reproduce it here but if you can pick up a copy of the December Costco magazine, you’ve got it!

Here it is in words:

Stuff comes "IN"

Decide "what is it?"

Do you need to take action?

if NO — choose one of these -

1. Eliminate it
2. Incubate it (someday/maybe folder), or
3. Reference it (paper or digital folder)

If YES – then, decide: What’s the next step?

A. If it’s a multi-step project:

a. Figure out the desired outcome (which goes through a cycle of planning)

b. Go back to the Yes question and decide what’s next

B. Not a multi-step project?  Then:

1. DO IT if it takes less than 2 minutes

OR

2. DELEGATE it — put it in communication system and track it via lists/folders

OR

3. DEFER it – put it on the calendar OR put it in an Action folder or list or tray

That’s it.

Sounds simple. Is simple. So let’s try it.

I’ll keep the lines of communication open so we can implement this together.

Are you on board?

"I’ve been gaining weight since I turned 50 and I can’t stay away from the carbs!" a midlife ADDiva told me last week by phone. I can relate. Oh, I can definitely relate.

Yesterday, I picked up my PostIt-filled copy of Mastering the Zone by Barry Sears – the place I visit when I am finally ready to return to a more sane eating pattern. There, on page 37, was a chart that simplified the connection between focus and carbohydrates.

The chart was labeled " Extent of Hunger 4 Hours After a Meal." It showed two alternatives:

1. No hunger — which stemmed from the "correct" ratio of protein to carbs to keep hormonal levels (insulin) steady.

2. Significant hunger — which had two causes — one was too much carbohydrates relative to protein (insulin too high), which led to POOR MENTAL FOCUS. Hmmmm.

The alternative – too much protein relative to carbs (insulin was too low) – led to Good Mental Focus…but a growling tummy.

For those of you unfamiliar with The Zone, it advocates a consistent ratio of fat-carbs-protein every time you eat. It’s a pain to learn, but I admit, I feel much better on the Zone than almost any other food plan. The Zone also mirrors the Prefrontal Cortex Diet which advocates protein at every meal – especially breakfast – and no refined sugar.

It made a lot of sense to me. I don’t know the precise physiological mechanism for the protein=focus and carbs=fogginess. I am intimately famliar, however, with the churning carbohydrate cycle that feasts on sugar and more sugar.

(A quick refresher on the definition of a carbohydrate, since I tend to forget: anything that produces sugar in your bloodstream. That, of course, includes anything made with sugar or its ilk: candy, lemonade, cookies, cereal (I dare you to find one without added sugar or beet juice or high fructose syrup added) AND it includes things that convert to sugar once in your body – bread, rolls, rice, noodles. Even vegetables are carbohydrates, usually better than the sugary stuff – but carrots and beets have a lot of sugar in their little cells, bless them).

Consider an extreme example: you eat a donut (sugar, fat, white flour – yum) and your blood sugar spikes, allowing you to feel energetic (although unfocused). When you dump sugar into your bloodstream, it screams for balance — so insulin comes to the rescue, neutralizing all that excess sugar.

Problem is, there is so much sugar in your body, that the insulin overreacts and send a thundering herd of little hormone armies to counteract the sugar. Pretty soon there is too much INSULIN hanging around in your bloodstream with nothing to do. That insulin likes to have a job so it needs more sugar to neutralize, so your body screams at you to eat something sweet and sugary. You feel faint from hunger, so you have another donut, or a Coke or a piece of toast and jelly.

Then it’s off to the races again — with your body doing its good job of noticing that there is sugar coming down the pike…and releasing more insulin…as if you needed any more! This silly circus act goes on for as long as you keep feeding the sugar monster inside you.

In  the meantime, your ADD goes beserk — attention goes out the window but energy ebbs and flows with your carb intake.

The Zone suggests rather strongly that the key to a balanced mental and physical state is a balance of food types. In my experience, a low sugar, moderate protein, low fat diet works great. Until I allow myself to get on the sugar train again.

It’s hard to get OFF that carbohydrate train. Yesterday, I promised myself "no sugar." But by the end of the day, I was digging around in the trash to find the last few bites of a candy bar I had righteously thrown away that morning. Embarrassing. But testament to the power of sugar.

Today is another day. I will try to balance my foods so my blood sugar stays steady and my focus….well, my focus can only improve from here on out!

It’s been three days since Barack Obama was elected the 44th president of the United States. No matter whether you are ecstatic or bummed about the outcome, the election offers profound implications that should give all ADDivas a dose of that magic elixir: HOPE.

Why? Because we, like Obama, face a world that uses rigid standards to separate "good" from "bad" and "right" from "wrong." We, like Obama, have been judged harshly by those rigid rules. We, like Obama, have been the target of ridicule, the scapegoat for problems, the odd duckling among stereotypical swans.

But Barack Obama shows us that whether our difference is in the color of our skin, the way our brain works or how many times we are late filing our taxes, we can transcend those challenges and rise – quite literally – to the top.

I don’t know about you, but there have been times in my life that I was so tired of trying harder, going the extra mile, thinking ahead of the business people around the conference table, that I wanted it all to STOP. I was sick of playing by everyone else’s rules. I was exhausted from untwisting my pretzel-like self into a semi-straight line that passed for "normal." I wanted to go to bed, pull up the covers and hide until that neatly pressed world marched right on past me.

I don’t know Barack Obama personally. I suspect there were times in his life that he was discouraged, disheartened by the uphill road ahead. But I notice he didn’t go to bed and pull up the covers. He kept moving. He renewed his efforts. And most importantly, he never stopped believing in his dream. Never.

ADDivas would do well to take nourishment from that determination. Many of our dreams have been discarded; they litter the roads of our distant past. We turn away from them as proof of our failures and an accurate predictor of our futures.

But women with ADHD are not failures. We deserve to revisit our dreams - resurrecting those that still inspire us and creating new ones that have nudged themselves into our adult lives. And as we make that slow turn toward ourselves, welcoming that woman who is truly a miracle, truly unique and precious in the world, we ignite that four-letter word in ourselves and in those who witness our transformation.

HOPE. It’s not about elections. It’s about life. Your life. And you.

Like you, I have an opinion about tomorrow’s election. I have a candidate that is dear to my heart. And I didn’t vote early. I like the energy of going to the polls on Election Day.

So here’s the ADDiva tip of the day:

Don’t forget to vote!

Put a Post-It on your calendar.

Tie a string around your finger.

Set an alarm.

But vote.

ADDivas make a difference in this world. Tomorrow’s the day to prove it

Hugs

Linda

When my ADD has me running in circles, trying to find the beginning or the end or even a middle, there is nothing quite so grounding – literally – than getting out to my garden and thrusting my fingers into the sun-warmed soil. This week, it’s time to plant fall crops – broccoli and cauliflower.

Those precious little transplant leaves, quivering with possibility, ready to flourish with only a small push from me….pretty heady stuff for a farmer’s-daughter-turned organic-gardener like me.

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