The ADHD Open Space Podcast is for adult professionals living with ADHD and those who interact with them. We'll talk about how it affects our work and those we care about.
As the "open space' implies, there is room to explore more, so feel free to leave suggestions and comments for each episode!
The ADHD Open Space event will be January 20th, 2024 in Madison, WI. Registration opens December 1st at http://adhdopen.space! adhdos.substack.com
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A lot of maxims, truisms, corollaries, and such got left on the metaphorical cutting room floor. In the interest of completeness and inclusion, here are some of the related phenomena that have epitomized my experience of ADHD:
The Axioms of ADHD (00:24:53)
Originally published as an article on Medium.com . For the last few months I've been writing down things that help me function with ADHD. These were short phrases, kind of like mantras: hurrying is kryptonite. Nothing is on the way to anything else. Choice is friction. I started calling this my "Rules of ADHD", and planned to write them up — but when I got to number sixteen, I realized that would make for a pretty complicated article. Also, who's going to remember sixteen different rules, especially when there were likely to be more? I'm lucky enough to be friends with Amber Beckett from The Hello Code and she suggested I look for over-arching themes, groupings that might simplify these rules into basic concepts from which the rules could be extrapolated to fit different ADHD experiences. With a bit of searching, I discovered there's a word for that: axiom. After the obligatory "If you don't know, why don't you axiom?" joke, the following six Axioms of ADHD emerged: The Axiom of Stuff The Axiom of Transitions The Axiom of Magical Thinking The Axiom of Options The C.R.A.S.H. Axiom The Final Axiom Curious to know what they are and how they can maybe help you navigate this world? Listen to the podcast and find out! As always, comments are welcome here or emailed to gray@adhdopen.space .
Grace & Discipline with ADHD (Part Two) (00:19:02)
originally written for Medium • Photo by Jackson Simmer on Unsplash If you know, you know. And that changes pretty much everything. "Suddenly, so much of my life made so much more sense." That's the most common refrain I hear from people like me who were late-diagnosed with ADHD. In my case, it was an ongoing, bitter, semi-serious joke, because while I excelled at tests, writing, and learning of all kinds, I somehow wasn't ever able to parlay that into a secure career the way my peers seemed to. I would ask myself, over and over, as I looked at a depleted bank account or sat in traffic on the way to another job that I used to love but now felt like sandpaper in my gut: if I'm so smart, why ain't I rich? Almost exactly a year ago from this writing, I got the confirmation of a possible answer to that question: because you've had ADHD (combined type) since you were a kid, and nobody knew it. I can't blame anyone, not my teachers, not my parents, not my self, not my well-meaning friends and partners who tried a variety of techniques to help me succeed. There wasn't the science to understand what ADHD was (in truth, there still isn't, really, but at least it's getting better). Now that I know I have ADHD, what does that change about my life? Being ignorant is not a sin. Remaining ignorant, is. — Robert Heinlein "What…are you…prepared…to DO?" — Sean Connery to Kevin Costner, The Untouchables Like many late-diagnosed ADHD folks, I channeled the one double-edged superpower that I understood: hyper-focus. I devoured the books, the podcasts, the papers, the social posts, the videos, and started writing about how I understood what I was learning (and now you're reading this article! Sing with me: "It's the CIIIRRRRRCLLLE of WRIIIIIIIIITE…"). That was the easy part. The hard part was — still is — that second part of the serenity prayer: accepting the things I cannot change. I have to stop pretending that my brain will work in the same way that most brains in this world work. It explains all the mishaps, mistakes, and poorly thought-out decisions that have made my life more difficult than it needed to be, but it doesn't fix them. That's up to me. Discipline means limiting my options. I hate even writing that. The cold, hard truth is that there are just some things that I see other people take for granted that I cannot do. I'm going to give you the current version of the running list, but before I do, I want to head off the typical neurotypical response: oh, everybody has that happen sometimes. Yes. You're right. They do. The difference of ADHD is not in the symptoms; it is in the frequency and severity of the symptoms. Yes, everyone has diminished mental capacity when they don't get enough sleep; for someone with ADHD, trouble sleeping is more common, and the diminishment is more severe. Which is why it's at the top of the list: Things I cannot do: Skip on sleep. There's an inverse relationship between how much sleep I get and how much my ADHD manifests during my day — and yes, I'm aware that sleep deprivation affects everyone, please see the above about severity. To add a layer of complication, the quality of the sleep also seems to be a factor. Skip on meds. It's not just taking them — it's the whole system of checks and reminders I have to have in place, because my brain doesn't form habits, nor can it just assume I'll remember to take them. Hence the obnoxious and insistent medical alarm on my Apple Watch, the checkbox in my daily journal for meds, and carrying a spare dose with me everywhere in my ADHD every-day carry. Skip on exercise. Again, I know: everybody needs to move. However, for most people, it's because their body needs it. Mine too, but it's become more and more clear that it's really because my brain needs it to function adequately. Buy things conveniently. I used to think that contactless payment idea, the PayPal's and the Venmo's and tap-cards were wonderful inventions — until I realized, decades too late, that they make it that much easier for my brain to create crises by making impulsive purchases. I have them, but I've made them harder to use for myself. Use phrases like "in a while", "soon", or "later." Time blindness is a thing. I've learned the hard way that I really have no concept of the passage of time, so if I use those very common phrases, they really have no meaning at all. Things I have to do: Interrupt my life to make notes. I have to write things down — names, tasks, ideas, you name it — in my little field notebook, or they get lost. It's a common joke among ADHDers: The biggest lie we tell ourselves is "Oh, I'll remember this later." And sure, there are things on my phone that can let me conveniently take notes — but the phone is no longer a phone, remember? It's an Infernal Distractibility Sarlacc Pitt of New Shiny Squirrels, and the odds of me getting to write something down without being sidetracked are pretty slim. Put things where I can see them. I love minimalism. I love the aesthetic, I love the idea, I love even the process of cleaning and declutterring etc. But if there's something I need to remember to do — from yoga in the morning to remembering my keys to taking important papers to work — I need to have it in front of me, in my vision. This means that I need to have a certain other kind of minimalism: if you need to remember it, leave it out. Put everything else away, because it will distract you from remembering. Have reminders of time everywhere. As I write this, I'm wearing my Apple Watch, I have a small hand-carved clock on my shelf in my peripheral vision, a two-foot-diameter wall clock on my wall, and I set a timer via my HomePod so that I will stop writing in time to get ready to go out to dinner. And I'm still half-worried that I'll be late. I'm lucky; most of the time I don't have that ADHD trait of "I have an appointment later, I can't do anything until then!" but I do have the reverse: I'll just write for a bit and then get ready. Nope. I'll get drawn into the writing (or whatever) in a lovely combination of hyper-focus and flow and keep telling myself "just one more thing" and be late — as I often have been, throughout my life. Or worse, I'll work right up until the absolute last minute, where if everything goes right I might be able to be on time…and when I'm playing those odds, the house almost always wins. The House of ADHD, that is. Which brings me to the biggest discipline change of all since I got my diagnosis, the thing that, with the help of my partner I've identified as the one factor that contributes the most to any problems I have during the day: I can't rush out of the house. I have to — have to — give myself time to prepare for wherever I'm going, or I will almost always forget something. Actually, I'll adjust that to always, because the times that I don't forget some important aspect of where I'm going are simply because that particular excursion didn't require as much. I wasn't prepared; I was lucky. A short but not complete list of things I have forgotten: My power adapter (for whatever device I might be bringing along). My meds. My wallet. My phone. My watch. My headphones. My keys. My teeth (yes, I have dentures). Important papers needed for whatever appointment I'm heading for. My destination (yes, I've driven entirely across town to the wrong place before remembering where I was supposed to be going). Whichever of three engraved nametags for the board or organization I'm supposed to be representing at the event I'm going to. My car (literally. I have jumped on my bike and headed out before realizing this was a time I was supposed to take my car). Any of those items might also have been something that I forget when leaving an event if I'm not careful. I've been lucky to have an extended support network locally of friends and family who have helped me numerous times to replace or bring the truly necessary items to me. Other times I just show up at the place and look less professional — if they know me, they might think it's a one-time thing, but if they know me, it's well, Gray's just like that. Since my profession (nonprofit fundraiser) requires making a good impression on people, that's not an ideal situation. But what we've noticed is that if I am rushing out of the house to try to be on time, I'm unprepared. My amygdala will merrily ride a white-rabbit thrill of I'm late! I'm late! and put all the focus on where I'm going, often jumping ahead often to what I'm going to be doing, and entirely ignore the getting ready side of things. Scaffolding helps. Routines help. But ADHD is still there. So there is a checklist by the door. There's a nice little "ADHD EDC" kit I keep stocked with the things I usually need, and if I remember it, then I remember most everything else. If my partner and I are leaving at the same time, we have a verbal ritual of stating and acknowledging that the door is locked. Just last week my partner had to drop off my computer power adapter at the coffee shop where I was working prior to a meeting with the owner about a fundraiser. Luckily it's only a little out of her way to work, so I only felt mildly bad about having to ask her to do it — but if I think back to all the times I've felt shame or remorse about being an extra burden or letting people down by not being prepared, it's a whole lot of memories. That's why I call this a discipline. I suspect it's why I have always loved coats with many pockets and backpacks and such that advertise how wonderfully organized everything can be — because that's a fantasy I have, of having everything I need exactly when I need it. Buying another backpack isn't going to fix my brain, though. I have exactly two options: Take the time to have all the stuff I need planned out in advance, or Need less stuff. I'm still working on both. And in the meantime, I have a new game. Instead of try to get as much done in the time I have left, I try to get something completely done before the alarm goes off so I can actually have more time than I need to get ready. I don't want to be that person anymore who shows up "just a little late, and barely prepared." I want to become the person who always is earlier than expected, with exactly what is needed (and maybe a little more). It's a work in progress. Discipline and grace. They're both the biggest changes since I got diagnosed — and thankfully they can feed off of and reinforce each other. It's about the practice, not the destination. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready to go…
Grace and Discipline with ADHD (Part one) (00:11:41)
originally written for Medium.com • Photo by Keagan Henman on Unsplash The Deeper Long-Term Effects of Late-Diagnosis ADHD I was interviewed recently by the hosts of a decluttering podcast (link to come later, it's not online yet!). I've been writing about organization systems and techniques for decades. I have always enjoyed trying out new systems, finding out the advantages and limitations and constantly re-optimizing them in various ways whether physical (whiteboards and labeled boxes!), paper (53 folders! File cabinets and notebooks!) or digital (Obsidian! Notion! Johnny Decimal! Tags, tags, so many tags…). It's gotten to the point where I have to finally accept that it's not so much a "need to get organized" as a hobby that I enjoy. Being a productivity/organization nerd for so long has made me into a bit of a resource for friends and clients as well; in any given situation, I usually can find a few different ways to organize, systematize, and optimize it, with a good idea of the pros and cons of each system. A long chat with a couple of decluttering enthusiasts was a wonderful way to spend a Saturday afternoon, and we laughed and traded ideas and experiences for over an hour. Finally one of the hosts asked me a question that resonated more deeply than I expected: Has your diagnosis of ADHD changed any of the ways you approach decluttering or organizing? Seems like an easy question, right? I could just point to the ADHD-friendly PDF planner, or my ADHD everyday carry kit, or something like that. But for some reason, the conversation sent my brain into deeper, more existential motivations, and two seemingly contradictory words bubbled up to the surface of my brain. "Yes. I give myself more grace, and more discipline. Grace is hard for a recovering workaholic ex-hustle-culture single-parent former Marine. Love languages are one thing — what about "motivational" languages? We all have varying ways of talking ourselves into doing things, as well as giving feedback to ourselves about the things we've done. Quite often these voices are echoes of the voices we internalized from others in our lives — parents, peers, teachers, partners, bosses, mentors, even books or podcasts. To use a distasteful example, a "pickup artist" enthusiast will likely start referring to people in terms of how attractive they find them — usually with a number, because objectifying other people with labels is much easier than actually interacting with them. But the interesting thing is that they also will refer to themselves with that numbering system — and it becomes a motivation for self-improvement. I'm only a six, but if I get in shape and dress better I could move up to a seven or eight and then I'll have a chance with a nine, maybe even a not-picky ten! Gross, and also effective in some people I've met in getting them to pay more attention to their health and appearance. Even more distasteful and also unfortunately effective is the use of self-directed shame and anger as a motivator. I know this because many of my own accomplishments and "good habits" came from this kind of motivation. Nobody beats me up better than the drill instructor in my head (What do you mean you don't feel like working out? Since when does a man your age have a choice in that? I don't know what I did to deserve to be stuck in the head of someone this pathetic!). Or shame: No wonder your blog numbers fell. You don't get up at 5 am and write anymore, the way real writers do. Might as well just keep scrolling Instagram, your work isn't ever going to amount to anything anyway. Or just things not being good enough, even when they do get done: Sure, you think you're a clever writer, coming up with these little voices in your head — but three? Four examples if you count the pickup artist? That's ridiculous. Nobody's going to read that much. You should have spent more time editing, instead of just squeezing in your writing on your lunch break. No wonder you're not a Top Writer. That's been my motivation for most of my life. Bullying and berating and belittling myself into getting things done — and it's been quite effective, because I've done a lot of things, and certainly achieved the mainstream milestones of masculine success. And amidst being treated for the depression and anxiety that was the result of all that "success" came the news from my therapist and my psychiatrist. Oh. You have ADHD, combined type, and it's pretty obvious that you've had it your entire life. That diagnosis added a new voice in my head. Suddenly there was a new set of ideas in my head, a clarification of the contributing factors to a huge number of decisions, events, and behaviors in my life. The simple understanding that my brain does not process dopamine the way that approximately 97% of other brains do explained why so much of the world I lived in — the world designed to work for that other 97% — didn't make sense to me, and was a struggle to function in. That lent a voice of grace to my inner dialogue. When I couldn't remember something — a name, a location, an event — that I knew I was actually familiar with, it wasn't a matter of "trying harder". I stopped saying "I'm sorry, I don't remember" and instead said "I'm sorry — my brain's not giving me access to that information right now." Sometimes I'd follow it up with "But don't worry, it will later on — way too late to be useful, but at least I know it's there!" I understand now that there are some things my brain simply does not do well — and some of them I can make a bit better with things like sleep or meds, but that's not going to fix anything — it simply mitigates the effects. My obsession with organization, habit change and self-improvement over the years was my brain trying desperately to find a solution to a problem that it could feel but never really understand. It was like getting new tyres on the car when there was a problem with the fuel line. I'd managed to haphazardly create enough scaffolding in my life to not only function but occasionally thrive as an adult — but it was exhausting, and in the end, I found myself in that aforementioned constant state of anxiety and depression. Some of that is still there. When I don't get enough sleep, forget my meds, or simply have the chaos of a day negate the scaffolding, I simply have to accept that I'm not going to be as functional in the world that day as I would like to be. No amount of coffee, power naps, or affirmations is going to fix that, any more than they would fix the pain in my de-cartilaged knees when I'm facing a flight of stairs during a Wisconsin winter. That understanding does change the motivation a bit. None of those other voices are the types to pick on someone with a disability, so there's less You're all worthless and weak! and more Give it the best you can! It also means that many — not all — of the what were you thinking?!? moments in my past make so much sense. Why did that data entry job feel like it was torture, when everyone else seemed to find it just annoying? Because my brain needs variety, and insurance forms don't give that. Why did I time after time suddenly feel like all the spark had gone out of a relationship, and spend so much time chasing new relationship energy? Why did I love being a freelancer working on different projects, or a presenter and event producer traveling around the world, to the point where I burned myself out? All of it came down to because that's how your brain works, Gray, and you didn't know that. You're not a failure. You just can't solve a problem you don't even know exists. Grace. Healing, even. But along with it comes the corollary: Now, though, you know what's going on. And that means some things have to change. And that's what we'll get into in the next part of this series.
Your Productivity Tools and Hacks Are Useless Without This One Thing. (00:07:08)
originally published on Medium.com I learned the hard way, so maybe you won't have to. I write a lot about productivity tools and methods. I've written about time management and project planning and habit formation and self reflection. I've reviewed the things that make these possible, apps and notebooks and timers and even wrote a book about my favorite form of meditation. I left something very important out. Something that happened in December made me realize that I'd done my readers a disservice: all this productrivia was worthless without one particular practices. Come with me to the Coliseum in Madison, Wisconsin, just after the Harlem Globetrotters performance, where I learned this crucial and painful lesson. I was absolutely, 100% positive I had parked my car in this lot. But as I stood there shivering in the Wisconsin winter, the halogen lights showed everybody else had parked their cars there, and were having no trouble finding them. I, on the other hand, had been wandering the rows for about half an hour, trying to find it. It was a layer cake of self-blame and physical misery. I was tired, cold, my knees hurt. But worse, I was ashamed: I was supposed to be giving my sister the dance teacher and my 6-year old nephew a ride home after their triumphant halftime performance with her dance class. I had gotten to be Good Big Brother and Cool Uncle, because she'd been injured by a horse (yes, she also works at a ranch) and so I'd offered to be the chauffeur. Except now I was the chauffeur who'd lost the car. I knew that she was waiting as patiently as she could, but I also knew that my nephew was getting really tired and they both needed to get home. I was letting them down. Worse, this situation was all too familiar. I'm notorious for forgetting where I park; once in college I'd wandered with my best friend through a parking ramp for an hour, trying to find the right stall, only to suddenly stop, look at her, and admit: "I think we're in the wrong ramp." She's not my best friend any more. The thing is, I have an iPhone. One of the features of the Maps app is that, when you park your car, it drops a pin. This is where you parked! it says helpfully. I'd looked at it, seen the little blue dot that was me on the north side of the Coliseum and had a little walking-trail laid out to the east side, where it said my car was. I didn't believe it. I'd been careful at the end of the game to make sure we'd retraced our steps, and I was completely positive that I was in the right parking lot. But my car wasn't there. Priorities: I called my daughter, who'd also been at the game, and she first drove me around the lot a couple of times, on the off chance I was having some ADHD-related blindness towards my car. Nope; it just wasn't there. I got out and asked her to pick up my sister and nephew, still waiting at the Coliseum exit, so that at least they'd be ok. I resigned myself to the frigid hellscape of the parking lot, wandering among the few cars that were left, getting ready to call the police and report my invaluable 2014 Prius as stolen. You know how the story ends, I suspect. A few seconds after my daughter went to get my sister, she called me. "Dad, your car is over in the East lot. I'm looking at it right now." Right where my iPhone had said it was. The Maps app told me I could have walked there in two minutes. You have to trust the tool. I had billions of dollars in Apple R&D and the support of hundreds of high-tech global positioning satellites literally at my fingertips, all trying to tell me where I'd parked my %$#@ car…and I thought no, I'm sure I'm smarter than that. Before you decide a tool doesn't work for you, it's worth asking yourself: am I letting it? The effectiveness of any system is only as good as your willingness to trust it to work. A system only works if you work the system.
How TIIMO Can Help You Manage Your Time and Relieve ADHD Anxiety (00:16:46)
Raise your hand if any of these phrases sound familiar: "Oh, %$#@, it started five minutes ago!" "Wait — that was today?" "This is taking forever. How can it not be over yet?" "Guess I'm just gonna be late…again." "What was it I'm supposed to be doing now?" If your hand is still down, this article is not for you; go back to reading "How to enjoy your perfectly manageable schedule" or "How to let people without an unfailingly accurate internal clock know how much you pity them" or whatever it is people like you read. One the other hand (the one that is raised) you may be like me and have a condition called time-blindness. You can read the science on it if you want but the TL;DR is that it makes it difficult to sense the passage of time. A lot of people use the analogy of color-blindness: you know that there are red flowers and green flowers because everyone around you says they are, but you can't sense it yourself. Unfortunately, this doesn't manifest as a zenlike existence because you and I live in a world where clocks rule everywhere around us. Instead, it looks like fatigue and stress from trying to compensate. dozens of apps and productivity systems tried and abandoned. unreliability because of missed or late appointments. rushed days, berating myself for being unable to keep to my schedule. a lifetime of feeling like I was failing at a really basic skill that everyone else could do, while people in authority kept telling me I just needed to do better. Which is about as useful as telling a color-blind person to just look harder. The good news is that once I realized time-blindness was a thing I had, I was able to start intentionally finding ways to "scaffold" my sense of time — externalize it. There's a reason there are large clocks prominent in most rooms of my house, and why I have a collection of timers sitting on my desk. But nothing has been as useful as one particular app. Enter TIIMO, my Time Wingman TIIMO was originally developed by two researchers, Melissa Würtz Azari and Helene Lassen Nørlem, in order to "support neurodivergent youth at school." The app was simply a tool for their research, but proved so useful to the subjects of the study that they didn't want to stop using it when research was done. "It solved a problem that existing apps did not." TIIMO (not an affiliate link) is a visual calendar and timer built into one. Here's some images of what TIIMO looks like during my days: Building my schedule in the morning, using the app on my phone, integrating the complication in my watchface and getting a reminder later. In a lot of ways, TIIMO is just like any other scheduling app. You can set repeating events (things like my "Magic Desk Time" or "Walking the Dog"). You can set these by duration or by time-of-day, all pretty standard in calendar apps. You can set up routines, too — for example, here's my morning routine: Yes, I know I use silly words. It works for me. Notice the visual element — you can set an icon (or upload your own) and specific color (I tend to use green for my day job, blue for my side gig, and orange for personal events). While you can sync it with your calendar, I prefer not to. The act of manually entering in every appointment in my day provides a check-in moment: Did I give myself travel time? Did I double-book myself? Is this something I really need to spend time on? Is there something I forgot that I really need to spend time on? Is there something I thought needed time that actually doesn't? Have I severely overestimated the number of things I can spend time on whether they need it or not? Entering my schedule into TIIMO at the start of the day has resulted in farfewer missed appointments, double-books, or lost tasks. I've had the unfortunate experience of having direct proof of that on days when I skip that part of the morning routine — Wait, that was today? The real benefit is peace of mind. For me, what sets TIIMO apart from all the other scheduling apps I've tried is the granular notifications setup. Take a look: What you want to know, when you want to know it. This, as it turns out, is exactly what I need to keep on track during the day. Having it ping me 5 minutes before an appointment at the the start of that appointment halfway through, and five minutes before the end …has resulted in my time finally feeling elastic enough to actually get done what I need (or want) to get done. I don't worry (as much) about being late. I'm able to handle meetings with more grace by having an alert when half my time is gone, and when I should be wrapping up. TIIMO becomes literally my time-sight, letting me know where I'm at in my day in case I can't really tell. It's not perfect. Within the Apple ecosystem, at least, there's a few issues here and there. Most annoying is the way it syncs up with my watch; for whatever reason, when I make a change on the phone app during the day it doesn't automatically sync to my watch — I have to do it manually. Worse, even after it does sync to my watch app it doesn't sync to whatever complication (that's apple-watch-speak for "little graphic indicator on the regular watch face") I've chosen, unless I change the complication back and forth. Which means that I have this annoying little ritual added to my morning planning: Go through TIIMO on the phone and set up my schedule. Open TIIMO watch app and sync it with the phone. Go back to my watch main face and long-press to select the "edit" button Select the TIIMO complication, and change it to something else ("time" is the next available). Back out of the edit screens so the watch face is normal, and then repeat steps 3–4 to re-select TIIMO as the complication. If that seems ridiculously byzantine and weird, keep in mind we used to have wind our watches, or pull them out of pockets on the end of chains and open them up in order to know the time. It's tedious, and I'm sure someday it'll be fixed (or I'll find out what I'm doing wrong), but for now it's what is necessary to get all the other benefits of this app. TIIMO is worth a try-mo. I am not affiliated with the app or the developers in any way, so I don't get any benefit from you trying out http://tiimoapp.com But if you struggle with your sense of timeliness, or just want a more visual way to see your days, I highly recommend it. It's made a tangible improvement to my days, my work, and most of all to my frustratingly wonderful brain
The 3-Step Foolproof Way to Find Lost Things When You Have ADHD (00:25:46)
drawing by the author using Adobe Fresco #byHumansForHumans #noAI Raise your hand if you've ever found yourself rummaging through drawers, wandering through room after room in your house, checking backpacks and briefcases and pockets repeatedly, all while muttering "I know I saw that somewhere…" "That", of course, is a thing that you did not need when you saw it last. It registered as a blip on your conscious mind — the feeling of "Oh, I see that. Good to know I still have it" without the burden of actually remembering where it is located. Then, a few days/weeks/months later, you suddenly realize it would be useful for some task or project — or, worse, it's essential for it. For example: your partner just surprised you with a getaway to the Caribbean — where's my passport? your cat ate one of your earbuds right before your Zoom meeting, but you know you have a spare pair — somewhere. you accidentally left your glasses at work, but you have an old pair in the junk drawer? No. Closet shelf? No. Dresser? No. The other shoulder bag! No. *sigh* As you're stumbling around the house with blurred vision apologizing to your boss for the echo while your partner is reminding you that the flights need to be booked, know that there is a straightforward method to finding the thing you need. The 3-step guide to finding that thing. Step 1: Give up. It's lost. Just admit it. Even if you live in a 600-square-foot house and have rearranged the furniture twice looking for it, it is gone — vanished through a wormhole to another part of the multiverse. Take solace in the realization that somewhere there is an alternate version of yourself who is holding that thing, muttering "Where did this come from? I don't remember having this," just like you did last week. It's not personal. It's just how the laws of nature and physics work. Step 2: Order a replacement. It used to be a lot harder when we lived as hunters and were forced to chip our replacement obsidian arrowheads after searching for hours in the bush by the spot where we missed the capybara. At least there were some nice berries there as a consolation prize as our mates and children watched us with hungry eyes as we made a few more shafts. And I'd like to think there was some consolation in knowing that millennia later some anthropologist would get a byline in NatGeo after finding the one you lost. Now, replacing those things you lost is as easy as a click away — even if you don't have next-day delivery, there's usually a one-week trial you can use. Or get past the free-shipping threshold by ordering two of whatever it is you lost — that way you're sure to have a spare in another place you will forget within an hour of carefully placing it there. You must make sure to order it online — don't go out and buy it in person. Step 3: Lose something else. This is the tricky part because you can't fake it. Pretending to look for something else in order to warp the space-time continuum into revealing the thing you actually need almost never works. The universe knows. But if you actually put yourself in a situation where there is another thing (let's call it Thing 2) that you need, remember seeing recently, but cannot locate in the first, second, or third places you think to look …then you can start looking for this new lost object, again checking through all the same places, bags, cushions, pets, vehicles, plants, light fixtures, and top-shelf kitchen cupboards. You won't find it — that's not going to happen. But along the way, you will find the first thing that you needed but couldn't find. It will be in a spot you are pretty sure you looked before as if it spontaneously appeared from some alternate dimension — and indeed, some suggest that is exactly what happened. It will also be in a spot that you remember putting it, your past self placing it carefully because, at the time, it made sense. It's not your past self's fault; that ally put it there specifically so that it would be safe, ready for when you needed it. They were wrong. But now you can go back online and cancel that replacement you ordered (well, you would be able to if you had a better functioning working memory. That's ok — when it arrives, you get the opportunity to forget to return it). Reflect on how fortunate you are to live in this miraculous age! You can't un-chip obsidian. What about finding Thing 2? The beauty of this process, like all natural cycles like the seasons and parthenogenesis is that it can be repeated ad infinitum with Thing 3, Thing 4, and so on. Yesterday I found Thing 45,673 — an old set of Apple AirPods. It was next to the little chest of drawers in my closet. I didn't need it any more — I use BeatsPro now — but it's nice to know I have it. I also didn't find the mic stand extender that I was actually looking for when I found the AirPods. That's ok; I'll need a USB cord soon, or that notebook where I scribbled that reminder, and the extender will show up. I think the lesson I'm supposed to learn is that it's not so much about the finding, it's about the looking. Or non-attachment. Or minimalism? I'm not really sure. I just know that this process has happened enough times to become something that I can rely on. Two alternate methods that also work for finding things: Since you read this far, I will share with you two other techniques that pretty reliably work to find things that you are sure you had, remember seeing somewhere, but are nowhere to be found. 1. When you put something somewhere, tell somebody. This comes from my friend and talented artist Kevin Beck. It's not about the person he tells remembering it — they have absolutely no responsibility to even hear him say it. Somehow the act of saying out loud "I'm putting my iPad on the desk" makes it almost impossible to forget. I suspect it has something to do with the fact that while the brain forgets the act of putting the object somewhere, it remembers the act of telling someone about it. Pretty sure if I tried it I'd remember telling the person — but I wouldn't remember what I said. Further testing is needed. 2. Ask my partner. Admittedly, I'm not sure this method scales, but the other remarkably successful way I've located items is by asking my partner if she's seen it. Often, even if she doesn't know what it is, was not around when I put it away, or even was aware that it existed, the act of her suggesting a place where it might be remarkably increases the odds that it will end up being there — Even if it's a place I've already looked. She denies being magical, and I believe her. Based on Clarke's Law, she simply has some sufficiently advanced multiversal teleportation technology that happens to be remarkably helpful in my life. I don't ask. I'm simply grateful.
Five Things You're Guaranteed to Get at the ADHD Open Space (00:36:40)
Transcript: Welcome to the ADHD Open Space Podcast. My name is Gray Miller, and I will be your host and facilitator as we explore ideas, workarounds, accommodations, and other aspects of being a professional adult with ADHD. Most of this will come from my perspective as a cis white male in his mid-fifties living in the Midwest who found out a year ago that I've been living with ADHD my entire life. I am not an expert on ADHD, except maybe in not knowing I have had it for half a century and somehow still getting by. But I promise to cite my sources or at least admit when I'm repeating something I read on the interwebs. If I say anything you don't agree with, you're welcome to call me on it and let me know. This podcast is also part of the lead up into the first ADHD Open Space happening in Madison, Wisconsin, on January 20th, 2024. You can learn more about that event both here in the show, and at the website, ADHDopen.space. Enjoy the show. Hello and welcome back to the ADHD Open Space Podcast. This is the first podcast after National Podcast Post Month, which was November. And we succeeded in our goal of posting 30 different episodes about open space events and ADHD, different things about that, including a couple of interviews. Did I make all the interviews I wanted? Nope. Did I talk about all the stuff I wanted to talk about? Nope. Uh, but I did succeed in the goal of getting 30 posts up, which I think gives a pretty good body of knowledge. And I wanted to give it a, myself a little rest after that, uh, month long, you know, high pressure, have to get these things out kind of thing. And I also wanted to see if there was still interest and believe it or not, I'm still getting signups, even though I haven't really done much on the ADHD OS sub stack or podcast. That tells me that there are still people interested and so we are gonna continue I'm not gonna sit here and pretend like I'm gonna make a schedule We're going to aim right now for every two weeks. If I do it more than that, then I hope you'll forgive me. And if I do it less than that, well, then that's probably a sign that I need to take things down a little bit. But in the meantime, I'm also happy to say this is the first podcast that I'm recording using a non-Adobe product. I have cut my ties with Adobe and I am going for some pay once and then use it forever kind of thing rather than software as a service. And we'll see how that works. If you notice any difference in the audio quality, please let me know. While I do have, I have a pinned on the site, the reasons why an open space is the just custom made for ADHD brains. I had a friend who he was we were talking about the fact that there's not been a whole lot of signups yet at the ADHD Open Space at the time of this recording. That again, the invites are mainly for people who kind of have trouble planning ahead. So we're still five weeks away. Of course, we're not going to have all the signups. Anyway, but he said, well, have you have you put it out there to, you know, the people who are more familiar with open space events? And I was like, who? I mean, if there if there's, if you look at two groups of people, and you have people that are familiar with open space events and how they work, and you have people who are familiar with or experiencing ADHD, the latter group is a lot bigger. But it also highlights why I need to Make sure that you understand when I talk about Open Space what you're being invited to. And one of the questions I get from people is like, well, okay, an Open Space event is an event where people show up and they put sessions on the board about things that are important to them at that moment. or, you know, things that have been important to them, but things that they really want to talk about during that day, which means we don't have a slate of certified, vetted speakers with lots of initials after their names. And if we don't have that, how can we actually be sure that what we're getting has any value to it? Now, I can go a whole lot of things about pedagogy, and I may actually even link in the show notes an article I wrote about the whole idea of why learning from your peers is often more effective than learning from experts, both in terms of pedagogy and that, especially when you're talking about things. Well, I would say you're talking about something just as general as productivity or things like that. But honestly, do you know where the first learn one, do one, teach one process actually was invented? It was invented at the Harvard Medical School Department of Surgery. It was a surgical training technique. Can you imagine the terror? Oh, don't worry about this, sir. It's just before you're going under. Don't worry. You know, I've, I've, I've, uh, learned how to do this and I've seen it happen once and, uh, I'm sure it'll be fine. Then you go under. Anyway, so the point is, is that, yes, I can say that peer led education is an amazing thing. And normally, I mean, for me, that would be enough, but it's not for everybody. And, you know, this is a ticketed event. The admission price is still the pre-sale price, which is $50. And that's to cover costs because we do have a few expenses for the space and things like that. But really the question becomes, you know, well, what, what am I, what am I paying for? What am I going to get? And I thought about it and I was able to come up with five things that you are guaranteed to get at the ADHD Open Space. Absolutely guaranteed. First thing, lunch. Lunch and snacks even. I have done a lot of open spaces. I have carefully cultivated a, menu and a shopping list of brain-friendly foods and various things that will keep people going. I accommodate vegetarian, gluten-free, and carnivorous things. I don't quite have the ability to make sure everything is vegan. However, I guarantee you that a lot of it will be vegan-friendly. So, you know, you'll definitely get that. Second, you will get access to space and time to ask the question, share the idea, or rant the rant that you've been wanting to do. a conversation for not other other stuff like that. You don't have those things going on that you really are invited to just think about that thing in the back of your head. Most people don't actually have that all the time. But this is a space where I am telling you, whatever it is that you've been thinking about, you can ask that in public, probably you'll have people wanting to talk to you about it. I have lots and lots and lots of times had somebody come up and say, well, you know, I want to talk about this thing, but I don't think anybody else is going to want to talk about it. And I always tell them, hey, you know what? You may be right, but just put it up there anyway, just in case. And what almost always happens is that three people, five people, 10 people, 20 people end up getting together and going, oh my God, I thought I was the only one. And they talk about this thing. Now, even if it's only three people, think about having three people that you can sit and talk for as long as you want to about this idea, this question, this thing that you're concerned about, because they feel that way too. That is a really exciting thing. I love to see it happen. Now, I do say almost all the time, because there is exactly one time that I had someone at an open space. He came up and he proposed something and nobody showed up to his class. And I felt bad for him. I saw him. He went to the area that had been set aside and he was sitting there and he was writing in his book. And I'm like, oh, man, I feel so bad for him that, you know, nobody showed up to a session. This is the first time this has ever happened. Did I Fail as a Facilitator? So I went over and I said, Hey, hey, dude, you know, I'm sorry nobody showed up for your recession. I mean, you don't have to keep it going if you don't want to. And he looked up from his notes and his eyes were just shining with excitement. He's like, Oh, man, I've got like three pages of notes written already. This is great. I have this time and this space I could do this. He was he was off. He loved it. So even if nobody shows up, you get that time for yourself, and that is absolutely guaranteed you will get that if you choose to take it. The second thing you get is that you get another place set aside, and we call this the introvert's corner. Now the introvert's corner is because there is a whole lot going on in an open space. A whole lot of stuff goes on. You know, you see lots of people doing different things. It's very exciting, and it can use up your spoons kind of quick. Hey, even if you're enjoying yourself, you still can get a little tired and you need a little time out. But you don't necessarily want to just leave the group. So the introvert's corner is pretty simple thing. It's got a couple comfy chairs. It's very clearly labeled introvert's corner. And the rule is, is that if you're in the introvert's corner, or you see somebody in the introvert's corner, you don't talk to them. You don't talk. You just you don't you don't wave at them. You don't wake at them. You don't smile at them. You just leave them alone. It's a space where they can just be alone and not feel the need to engage with people. Sometimes I put coloring sheets there. I put, you know, little, you know, you can sit there and read. The only thing you can't do is you can't talk to somebody else in the interridge corner. And I also keep it in a space where you can still see the rest of the event going on. You don't have to shut yourself off from the event. You can basically be alone and with everybody else at the same time. And so the introvert's corner has been a really, I should add the introvert's corner is the only thing that I have changed from the original Open Space framework. And the reason I changed it is because I didn't. That was actually set up by an attendee in Seattle at the Seattle Open Space. And it, she's like, I feel like there's need for this. So I'm going to set it up. And I said, okay, go ahead. And it worked so well that it became adopted, not only by Open Space, but oftentimes at other events and things where people had seen that. So the Introvert's Corner is another thing that will be available for you, a place where you can sit and you can watch other things happening, but you don't have to worry about anybody talking to you. You will also get, brace yourselves, a pen and a notebook. Yep. That's right. It's the only merch I'm going to have. I can't even guarantee that it will have anything on it that identifies it as ADHD OS. I might have stickers maybe, but you will get a pen and a notebook because I am such a strong believer in taking notes. And so you will get a pen and a notebook for the event. And then the fifth thing you'll get is you will get a community. And I use that word. I know it's good. Some people feel like you don't have a community. We just all happen to have the same brain disorder. You know what, you can decide what you want to call it yourself. But what I'm saying is that when you spend a day sharing the things that you're passionate about, that you care about, that are important to you, and having other people share those things with you, it forms relationships. People have made lifelong friendships at these open spaces. And I want to make sure that's able to be carried on. Now, if you live in the Madison area, you know, you can always have a meetup, you can meet for coffee, things like that. But what if you don't? Or what if you really wanted to come to this Open Space? Like I have the very first registrant for Open Space lives in Chicago. And how is he going to interact with people after the event if they're in Madison? Well, the answer is, of course, Discord. So yes, I am going to be creating, actually I have already created an ADHD Open Space Discord. Now right now it's under construction because I want to make sure that it is a safe space for everyone. So right now the only people that are actually invited to it are people who I know from other discords who are actually familiar with running discords that are very safe. And when that's all set up, you will all be invited. If you're listening to this podcast, if you're reading this sub stack, you are invited to be part of it if you like. And I'm not saying it's going to be yet another social network. You have to do stuff. We will probably have some discussions on it because it has voice channels. We will probably have some co-working events on it because I think that's a very useful thing. But in general, you will have something, a place where you can continue on the discussions and the ideas. And hey, maybe we'll even have an online open space using Discord. But those are the things that you will definitely get at the ADHD Open Space. You will probably get a lot more, but I can't guarantee that. But those five things, I guarantee it. All right, let's move on. If I had sponsors, this would be where the sponsor message would go. But we're going to move on to a new series. And I'm calling this series Variable Capacity. And I'm spelling the T and making a little bit of a pun. Capacity is ca-pa-ce-te-a, capital T-E-A. And I want to give credit where credit is due. That's Charlie Gilkey's acronym for time, energy and attention, which are the things you need to get things done. And I am taking his his thoughts about capacity and I'm just I'm sort of exploring them in a different kind of lens. And he knows that I am doing this. I left the first comment on his one of his pieces that he wrote about this. Highly recommend his sub stack. I recommend his work. His books are great. I really enjoy it. And he's very ADHD friendly and aware. But in this particular case, I'm really kind of digging in deep. What we're going to talk about is the idea of using capacity. And let me just say that the ultimate framework, the ultimate goal here is that we are going to try and look at planning out a planning system that is not based on what you want to get done during a day, but rather based on how you want to feel at the end of the day. And the logic behind that is that if you feel good about what you did during the day, at the end of the day, you're probably doing the right things. And sometimes, I think far too many times, we are doing what we think we should do during the day, and at the end of the day, we don't feel so good about it. Whether we're too tired, or, you know, there's some kind of a, well, I finally earned my rest. You don't earn rest. And I'm telling myself that, not you. I mean, I still kind of go, Hey, am I earned? Have I have I got the right to be tired yet? Have I done enough work? So That's what this is going to be about. It's a series. And the first one, we're going to talk a little bit about time. But first, I want to start out by sharing something you may have read already. If so, you can fast forward a couple of minutes in the podcast and get to the time part. But I want to talk about a different kind of a metaphor for ADHD. There's a lot of them. I mean, there's a whole lot of ADHD be like, you know, it's basically its own hashtag. But this one in particular has to do with time and the idea of time blindness. Think about your morning commute. Think about how many signs you rely on — street signs, construction notifications, speed limits. And how many signals — seeing when to stop, when to go, when people are going to change lanes. In fact, think about how irritating it is when someone cuts in front of you without signaling. How that puts you on edge, spikes your cortisol, makes your heart beat faster with fear masked as anger (because it's not that you're mad abut the signal, you're mad because of what could have happened if you weren't a good enough driver to have noticed them moving over). Now that you've imagined that, imagine that you have a certain kind of mental disability that made you blind to all the signs and signals. You could see everything still. You could drive, you had the skills, but you had to make your best guess about where to turn. You had to be hyper-vigilant while driving, because you never knew when someone was going to slow down, turn, or when traffic might get faster or slower. You had to deal with other drivers honking angrily or shaking their head at you as you try to drive as well as they do — but the thing is, they can see the signs, they can read the signals, it's second nature to them. Why don't you just try to drive better? Welcome to the world of a time-blind professional with ADHD. Except instead of making the commute to work, we're traveling through time — all in the same direction as our coworkers, both neurotypical and neurodivergent. But very much not at the same rate. We'll talk about that later. To carry the metaphor a bit further, if you were blind to the signals that had been created for people that could see them but still had to get places, you would likely find other ways to help you travel. If you can't rely on your senses, you'd use other sensors that you could rely on — perhaps the odometer telling you distance, combined with a map of the area. Maybe you'd spend extra time driving around, trying to connect landmarks to your common destinations. And if there was a new destination, or a new route you had to take, you'd simply buckle down and accept that getting to where you need to be was going to be a bit more complex for you than for most of your colleagues. That's the difference — a professional finds scheduling tools useful. For a professional with ADHD, they are necessary. Most people have a general idea of what they are going to do during their day. Most people can tell when a certain amount of time has passed, and they need to move on to something else. That's not how it works for the professional with ADHD. Put them in a room where there's nothing to do, and after a bit ask them how long they think they've been there. Forever. On the other hand, put them in a room with something they care about, they are interested in, they enjoy doing, and leave them there for three or four hours. Then come in and tell them it's time to leave. What, already? I know, I know. "That happens to everybody." Yes, of course it does — it just happens to people with ADHD more. A lot more. In fact, for some, it feels like all the time. There is no such concept of "a while", "a bit", or that nefarious prankster, "just a few". There is now. And there is not now. Anything else? We have to rely on externalized systems. Share Externalized Systems Help Everybody Externalized scheduling tools are not new. You may remember some kerfluffle about a particular Mayan version of google calendar a few years back? Or maybe that bunch of rocks in England that line up with uncanny precision during certain times of the year. Of course, we can't all carry around big seasonal stone alarm clocks, or even tiny sundials on our wrists a la Fred Flintstones. If you're reading this, you probably use the default 12-month, 365-day, 24-hour timekeeping system that we inherited from the Romans who stole it from the Greeks who inherited it from the Egyptians and Babylonians…look, it's complicated, and outside the scope of this article. But there's a neat little theme to the history of how we arrived at the units we use to measure time, and it's a pretty simple one: It was convenient. What follows is some "facts" about the history of time, as much as lightly-researched reputable-publications can relate them. Any errors are likely my own, but I didn't have time for a deep dive. But get this: We have 60 seconds in the day and 60 seconds in the hour because that's how the Sumerians did it. No one knows why they chose that number — best guess is that it's usefully divisible by 10, 12, 15, 20, and 30 — but that's how they did it, and the Babylonians learned it that way, and so did the Egyptians, and therefore the Greeks did it that way, and the Romans…all the way to that ":59" on your technologically advanced supercomputer on your wrist. We have 12 hours in the day possibly because there are 12 lunar cycles in the year, but also possibly because you have twelve knuckles on your fingers — which you can count with your thumb like a little counting rod. Yes, seriously, that's one of the reasons historians think the Egyptians used base 12. As digits go, it is pretty handy… Because they liked base 12, when they invented the first sundials, they attempted to divide the day and the night into 12 sections as well — 10 regular "hours" and then an hour on each end for twilight and dawn. Unfortunately, sundials are entirely solar powered, and that made it hard to divide the night equally — so that's when they got really complicated: Stay with me here: Egyptian astronomers divided the sky into equal parts using 36 stars, 18 of which would appear on any given night (with each of the two twilight periods highlighted by three particularly bright stars that they could still see). That left 12 stars to divide the "dark" hours equally (yay, back to the comforting duodecimal system!). If that seems too complex, they felt that way too. During the "New Kingdom" (well, new to them, it was in 1550 B.C.) they "simplified" it to 24 stars — still with 12 to mark the passage of the night. Before you get too comfortable with the idea of these twenty four hours days, you should know that since they were measured with sundials, they only were equal hours on the equinoxes. The rest of the year, the length of the "hour" varied based on the season. Roman hours, for example, were more like this: Illustration By Darekk2 via Wikipedia — Own work, used under CC BY-SA 4.0 It wasn't that they couldn't divide the hours equally — there was a device called the clepsydra or water clock that kept incredibly accurate time, and that's been found in places dated as early as 1400 B.C. It just wasn't very useful.People's lives were ruled by the seasons, and why pretend like a winter night was the same as a summer one, when it was obviouslydifferent? Even when a Greek smart guy named Hipparchus finally standardized equal hours, they were more an oddity or a scientific tool than any part of everyday life. It was another 1500 years before the common people started even using hours in clocks — and another two hundred before any regular folks bothered with minutes. We know exactly when we all finally started using the same "standard" time — December 1st, 1847. And not because that has any particular kind of galactic or seasonal or even religious significance (except perhaps to trainspotters). No, that was just the point at which the British railways adopted a standard time to measure when their trains would arrive. The U.S. would take almost another forty years to adopt the same system, and it eventually spread throughout the world as countries had more global contact. So what it comes down to is that this system of time that we use, that is held up as being "the most valuable asset" and "not to be wasted" and "every minute counts" — is a big pile of convenience, coincidence, tradition, and we've all agreed on it for less than 200 years. That's 6,311,433,600 Seconds, if you're counting. So what's the point of all this? It's just this: as we are looking at figuring out a productivity system that works for us (and notice, I haven't even gotten into the whole idea of subjective time, but that's because I don't want to spend all of this podcast talking about time. We'll talk more about that later on ) I want us to let go of the idea that we have to do it exactly the way that it has always been done. I mean, sure, you'll have to have a reference to it. I can't say, I'm going to divide my day into a morning and an evening and then expect that, you know, I'll tell my kids, oh, I'll pick you up from school, you know, some time in the evening. No, I have to actually know what time that is. But for myself, I can divide the time up in whatever way works for me because that's what people have always done. Time is designed to be a tool that we use. So as we go into this idea about tweaking our schedules and coming up with a productivity system that works for us as individuals, let's let go of the idea that we have to subscribe to anybody else's idea about how many hours a focus block needs to be, how long a Pomodoro needs to be, how many Pomodoros you have to do before you get a rest, how long a rest should be. Let go of how many hours of sleep you might need. Sure, we can do trends, but all those trends, you will also recognize they're just "lies, damn lies and statistics." So let's start there. And if you have any comments or ideas about your own perception of time and things like that, I'd love to hear them. We will talk more about the subjective nature of time -- you know, the idea that when you're doing something you love, time flies, and if you're doing something you don't, time drags. And we'll be also talking about how we can accurately understand how much time we really need. And along the way, we're going to talk about some ways of doing time tracking, because that personally is one thing that I am still trying to work out. Still have some ideas, still some thoughts on it, but we'll figure it out. As usual, my name is Gray Miller, and I can always be reached at gray, G-R-A-Y, at ADHDopen.space. You can also comment on this, you can find me on threads (on threads and things like that, I am actually @CreativeGrayVisual because @CreativeGray is my online persona ). For this particular time and place, we're talking about ADHD and open space. And I will talk to you in the next episode. I hope you've enjoyed this episode of the ADHD Open Space Podcast. Again, my name is Gray Miller. If you have any comments or questions about the show, you can feel free to leave them on the podcast page at adhdos.substack.com forward slash podcast. Or you can email me directly Gray, G-R-A-Y at ADHDopen.space. The background music for the intro and outro are from Pixabay.com and are called Funny Days Together by Background Music Lab, used under a YouTube Content ID license.
ADHD: The Scattering (00:14:07)
Let me tell you about the winter when the Idea Monster came and sat in his brain and almost kept the last five NaPodPoMo podcasts from happening. And also…about the fun game about ADHD that I'm creating. "Squirrel card, like…Someone sent a thumbs up emoji and you're distracted, lose, you're distracted, so you lose a certain number of emotional regulation tokens. Or you moved houses three months ago and can't find that one box with all the cleaning supplies. Immediately give up on all house related goal cards. So if you were planning on organizing your closet, or doing the dishes, nope, not gonna happen." This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit adhdos.substack.com
ADHD in Relationships: Interview with my partner, Natasha (00:33:37)
This was a hard one to post, because my partner is loving and honest and so there are parts of this interview that my brain tells me will make you hate me. But authenticity is important, as is trust, and I trust both her and you, my listeners. So here it is in unedited glory.
How My ADHD Brain Created a Nightmare of Social Anxiety (00:11:19)
After my diagnosis, even my dreams make more sense. Sort of. Note: all people mentioned in this article are fictitious constructs of my subconscious brain. Even the one who is real. Since my relatively recent diagnosis, I've been immersing myself in research, anecdotes, podcasts, videos, and social media related to adult ADHD. It's been quite the revelatory experience, as my perspective of the last fifty or so years of my life changes with this new lens turned on myself. Last night all that knowledge finally seeped into my subconscious and I had what I suspect will only be the first of many ADHD dreams. Or nightmare, really. This is not fiction or allegory. This is exactly the experience that played out in my dream, no elaboration, just description. See if you can pick out which particular ADHD symptoms my brain explores as we visit Morpheus' demesne… It started with me traveling. I got off a train to Chicago, dressed casually in jeans and a button-down shirt. I had the distinct feeling that I had arrived later than expected, and that I'd missed some connection and was going to have to find someplace to crash that night. Not a lot of stress, because I have many friends in Chicago with whom I've crashed in the past. But definitely some why didn't you plan this better? angst going on. I decided to go into a convenient dream-coffeeshop and figure out what to do next. Then I met this woman. She was young, smart, friendly, and she introduced herself from the other table in the cafe and struck up a mildly flirty conversation. When I was younger this might have led to me asking her out in an ethically non-monogamous way, but in the dream it seemed more like a friendly pity-flirt that's more and more common as my hair goes gray. Still, we got along well, and ended up chatting and walking around the beautiful summer Chicago market my dream had created. Then I realized: my pants were on backwards. I didn't know how I'd managed to do it, but the zipper was in back and the ass was in front and I laughed it off because haha, isn't that funny while inwardly (ok, it's a dream, I guess it's all inwardly) I felt a rush of embarrassment. How long have I been walking around in public with my pants on backwards? Luckily, we were near my ex's apartment. My ex-girlfriend is the only real person with a role in this dream. She does not actually live in Chicago. No idea why my brain chose her (out of an embarrassingly large number of choices) but with that particular logic that dreams have I knew that we were near her apartment, and that she was out of town, and even though I've not spoken to her in years she wouldn't mind if I stepped in briefly and fixed my pants. The young woman and I went into the walk-up, still talking all friendly-like. I turned my pants around, but then something weird happened. I know, I know: "Then it got weird?" But up until this point, this was simply a very vivid but also completely plausible dream. Until the suspenders* showed up. As I'd put on my jeans, I noticed on the floor a pair of suspenders that obviously belonged to me — they had a kind of yellow-and-purple pattern on them. What was weird was that I didn't remember wearing suspenders. Have I been wearing suspenders this whole day? I thought I was wearing a belt. I shrugged and put them on, with my new friend helping me attach them in the back. That's when my ex opened the door. Apparently she hadn't been as out-of-town as my subconscious had led me to believe. She and her husband (she does have an actual husband, but this one was fictional because I've never met him. My brain made him up.) came in the door and were, to put it mildly, a bit surprised to see me standing there with half-fastened suspenders next to a young woman. I put on the cheeriest smile I could. "Hi!" I said. "You're home! Hopefully it's ok, I had to stop in and fix a quick wardrobe malfunction." I remember chuckling in my dream, feeling incredibly embarrassed. My ex, though, has always been gracious, and she just kind of shook her head ("Oh, that's so like Gray" her expression seemed to say) as she and her husband took of their coats. Then things got worse. I realized I was wearing her shorts** Looking down, instead of wearing my jeans, I realized I'd put on a pair of jean shorts that must have belonged to her. Suddenly I noticed, draped over the chair next to me, my jeans — complete with the belt I thought I'd imagined. I looked more closely at the suspenders, and realized that the purple designs on them were not what I thought. "Huh," I said, embarrassed even more. "Looks like I accidentally put on your shorts and suspenders***." I tried to think of something more, but the awkwardness was huge. "Oops…" Did I mention my ex has always been gracious? She just shook her head again, glanced at her husband (quite a handsome man, incidentally, very Cary-Grantesque) and said "So, who would like some tea?" I laughed. "You're not English. Do you actually want to have tea with us, or are you simply trying to get past my embarrassment?" She gave me a look. "I said, who would like some tea?" Without waiting for a reply, she went into the kitchen. I turned to check on my new friend, who was sitting on the couch with her knees drawn up to her chest, looking sad. And that's when things got mortifying. I could not remember her name. I realized that the entire exchange with my ex and her husband had gone by without me introducing her. I realized that I needed to fix that, fast, lest I end up being that guy. Not just the genus that guy — the particular species of that older guy who hangs out with a woman half his age but can't even remember her name." I live in mortal fear of being that guy. In my dream, I tried hard to remember how she'd introduced herself in that imaginary coffee-house. My brain did not let me. Haha! it said. "She definitely told you her name, and you'll remember it sometime later, but right now, when you really need to introduce her to your ex whose apartment you broke into and whose clothes you mistook for your own? YOU DON'T GET THE NAME." I woke up in a cold sweat. What really sucks is that I got all the feelings. I laid there in the early morning dark with that hollow feeling of fear and social anxiety in my chest and ears. It took me a while to realize that I hadn't actually done any of those things — I hadn't been late on the train, hadn't worn my jeans backwards, hadn't snagged my ex's short trousers and braces****. It took me a while to get over it, though, because amygdala don't give a $#@% if it's a dream or real, it's gonna pump those chemicals into your brain bag regardless. It took the most time to stop my brain obsessing about I have to remember her name. I know, in the dream, that I heard it, back in the coffeeshop. I know there was a name for this imaginary person. But I have no idea what it was. And it's just as frustrating as real life, except more so, because there's an added-on you're getting upset about something that didn't happen and someone that doesn't exist. But hey, at least I got a fun little article out of it. Try writing a dream like that, ChatGPT! None of the things in the dream were outlandish. I've either done the things in the dream or things like them for my whole life. Especially the mortification of forgetting the name of a person you like. So there is no moral, no point, no lesson to be learned. I just wanted to write about my dream. Except, maybe… My brain has a lot of weird creative tangents.***** And along with that comes some time blindness, short term memory loss, inattention, and a lot of potentially embarrassing moments when I will have to simply accept that I did or didn't do something the way people expect. That doesn't mean I'm broken, or that guy. I just have to take the bad with the good. It is my brain. Might as well make the best of it. * braces, for my English readers. Stop giggling. ** Dammit, Brits, I mean "short trousers." STOP GIGGLING. *** Fine, I give up. Laugh all you want. I'm basically dreaming an episode of Miranda. **** There, are you happy now? ***** For example, a strange obsession with asterisks and my possibly nonexistent British readers.
The Dangerously Addictive Law of Mobility (00:11:25)
Made for Open Space. But tempting for the world... Here's the thing about Open Space: aside from providing people with the oppor- tunity to share the things they're passionate about, it also provides them with an op- portunity to be responsible. That one law I mentioned? It's known as "The Law of Mobility", and it is pretty simply expressed: If you are not benefiting from or contributing to whatever's going on in front of you, move somewhere you can. Note that it's not called "the opportunity of mobility" or "the you-might-want-to of mobility." It's the Law. It's the only law - as I pointed out, there's various interpretations of the principles, but the Law of Mobility applies equally to everyone. Even the person leading the session can use it: "Y'know, I thought this was a good topic for discussion, but I don't really feel it anymore. Let's do something else." Think about it for a moment: what does an entire event run on the Law of Mobility mean? As the session leader, it means that if people are listening to you, they absolutely want to be there. You're not filler, you're not the least boring speaker in a time slot - you are showing that you care about your subject by virtue of being there talking about it, and the people who are there with you also care, or else they wouldn't be. If someone does leave, that's got to be for one reason only: they have something more im- portant to do. Why would you want to begrudge them that? Take credit for inspiring them to do something they feel passionate about! There's another benefit: the Law of Two Feet does not suffer fools for long. If someone is just going through the motions, or regurgitating stale material, or speaking from a position of arrogance rather than authenticity - the crowd knows. I've seen groups gather, start listening, and then, bit by bit, fade away. Meanwhile the person presenting - never a novice, just someone used to having a captive audience - grows wild-eyed in desperation. Their material is being held to a higher standard: rather than relying on titles or reputations or even theatricality, the attendees demand that you be relevant now. I've heard of people who, after attending an open space event, choose to exercise the Law of Mobility at a traditional convention — much to the consternation of the "vetted" presenters. Reportedly one presenter was so vexed by this pattern, they asked if they could lock the doors after they started speaking, to prevent people from leaving. Thankfully, fire codes prevailed, and that particular presenter was simply forced to level up his game to keep the crowd. The four principles are guidelines. They can be malleable. But the Law of Mobility is essential. It keeps people mindful of what they are doing, what they are saying, and makes sure that the day stays interesting, relevant, and dynamic. * Note: Harrison Owen originally called this "the Law of Two Feet" but I can only imagine that is because he never had to explain it to someone sitting in a wheelchair with only one foot, grinning at your awkwardness as you realized the ableism inherent in the system. I did have to do that, and never used that phrase again. Serendipity Labs Logo Tagline Registered Trademark The ADHD Open Space is made possible through a partnership with Serenity Labs private office and coworking spaces, throughout the U.S. and in the U.K. as well!
The Four Principles of Open Space (00:08:35)
Whoever. Whatever. Whenever. It's Over. That's what makes it all work. My elevator pitch on Open Space goes something like this: "You know how regular conventions give you a program that tells you who's going to talk, what they're going to talk about, and exactly how long they're going to let you think about it before they'll stop talking? Open space is the opposite of that. People show up, and we ask them "What do you want to talk about right now? How long do you need?" And then we give them that space." I've found it works pretty well, but some people still get a whiff of anarchy about it. One person put it politely: "So…it's like a study hall?" So the elevator pitch is still a work in progress, and meanwhile I can talk about the Four Principles that make the whole thing magic. 1. Whoever shows up are the right people. There is no slate of presenters at an Open Space. Professionals who deal with ADHD folks might show up (I'd be surprised if they didn't). Sometimes even Big Names show up - I'd be delighted if Jessica McCabe showed up arm-in-arm with Ned Hallowell! But if they did, I'd emphasize to them that unlike the other conventions they speak at, in an Open Space they are not expected to do anything more (or less) than anyone else. They can think of this as a vacation, or, if they prefer, an opportunity. Suddenly they have the chance to present on that weird topic that's been in the back of their mind, or even (OMG!) just be participants at an event! Meanwhile, people who have wanted a chance to present an idea or pose a question for the group get the opportunity in a cooperative, low-pressure and supportive environment. 2. Whenever it starts is the right time. I started doing Open Spaces about fifteen years before I learned I had ADHD, so now I understand why this principle was always my favorite. There will be a definite start time for the ADHDOS, probably 9 or 10am. That's when everyone meets and plans the day's agenda (more on that later). There will also be a closing circle, probably about 5pm, where we come together and close out the day. Aside from that? There is no fixed schedule. There are 30 minute blocks set up across the top of the agenda wall — but those are guideposts, not rules. People are not forced to either fill or cut short their presentations to fit. Instead, they guesstimate how long they think they'll need, and they start their session when they are ready. If that's the time they picked, cool — but if they're immersed in some other conversation at that time, I let them decide what their priority is. Want to start it later? Fine. Want to cancel it, or let it happen without you? Also fine. My job as a facilitator is simply to give them that choice, and let everyone else know about it. Usually that means a lot of shuffling taped pieces of paper and moving the "NOW-ish" sign. It makes the day into a fluid, exciting, and unique learning environment. 3. Whatever happens is the only thing that could have. Remember how I said at the beginning there is no agenda? There really is no agenda. So if no one decides to put up a session — nothing will happen. Now, that's never happened, in well over a hundred open space events. But it's still worth reminding the attendees: they have a measure of responsibility that is different than most conferences. It also means that if, after the open space, there is something you wish would have been discussed, covered, explored - you have no one to blame but yourself. 3. When it's over, it's over This is the other half of that second principle. Remember how those half-hour blocks are just guideposts? If a class topic takes 15 minutes to cover, take that 15 minutes and do something else. If it takes 5 minutes, it takes 5 minutes. We don't ask you to fill time if you're done. If, on the other hand, a discussion needs 4 hours to adequately cover (which is rare, but has happened) then we make that time available. That's another part of my job as a facilitator — you may need to move the session to a different place, but you can keep doing it until you decide it's done. This principle also reminds us that everything does have an end, including the availability of an open space location. We do call everyone together at the end of the time in the space to have a "closing circle." Open space attendees discover that a day filled with people sharing things that matter personally and passionately can be exhausting. We take a very short time to celebrate the unexpected connections and new friendships. Every Open Space is a unique combination of people, and a unique coming-together of knowledge and talents, that will never happen again. We choose to focus on the great and cool stuff that happens because of this, and not say "Damn, I wish such-and-such had happened!" In the end, it's up to us. - the Author, somewhere at a past open space. That's the four principles. Tomorrow I'll talk about the one dangerously addictive and immensely fun Law of Open Space.
Why Open Space Events are Tailor-Made for People with ADHD (00:11:20)
Including some thoughts on overcoming impostor syndrome as a professional. I actually wrote an entire article about this on October 25th, 2023, and posted it both to my Medium account and to the ADHD OpenSpace newsletter. What was funny to me is that a few days later on October 29th the threads account of simple. mindful.adhd (who I have enjoyed following). (And by the way, I am, I'm quoting them not through any endorsement on their part of my event. I just found what they said interesting because they are at a conference and they were sort of doing a play by play as they were at the conference, and they ended it by saying: "ADHD conferences are not created for people with ADHD. If they were, there would not be hours of back to back lectures each day. Do neurotypical people like this? It's so painful, at least to me. Where are the wiggle seats, the interactive presentations and discussion groups, the creative approaches, the demonstrated examples of different learning styles? I want more dynamic ADHD conferences." Now, I, again, want to emphasize that they are not in any way endorsing my OpenSpace. It was just interesting to me that on the same day that I'm recording something about why I think OpenSpace events are better for people with ADHD is the same day that someone who's at a regular conference, an ADHD conference no less, comments about how the way the normal framework works is not designed for people with ADHD. So that honestly answers the first question I asked when I started this article, namely: "Why are you putting on the Open Space, Gray?" That question came to me today, and it's a fair one. I wasn't commissioned by any corporation, I'm not an ADHD professional (though I am a professional who has ADHD — gotta figure out that phrasing). I'm not selling any services, products, or affiliate anythings. As I said recently in my podcast intro, I'm not any kind of expert in ADHD — except maybe in that I spent half a century not knowing I had it. On the other hand, I can claim some expertise in Open Space events and facilitation. I ran well over 100 of them between 2007-2019, and trained people to run a dozen or so more. I traveled throughout North America and a couple of times on European tours, organizing them and then holding the space for the attendees, that ranged from 8 people to 450 people — and they all went well. People's lives changed at these events — not because of me, but because it gave them the space to explore questions they couldn't bring up anywhere else. Yes, but why? There are two reasons, really: One, since my diagnosis a little less than a year ago, ADHD has been the focus of most of my attention. Yes, it's a bit clichéd, but anyone who has a diagnosis later in life I believe will understand. Suddenly so much of my life makes sense. If you weren't late-diagnosed, or don't have ADHD, I'll just ask you to imagine your favorite hobby or pastime — football, quilting, skydiving, whatever. Now imagine that you'd done all the things involved in that hobby — gone to games, bought jerseys, followed players — without actually knowing the game existed. When you find out about the game, you tend to want to know as much as you can about it. Plus you suddenly understand why you were in Lambeau Field in the middle of a snowstorm. Not the best analogy, but it's the best I can come up with at the moment (to be fair, I came up with two other ones before that, but I decided this was the best. I remember reading somewhere that ADHD folks also have a penchant for making analogies, but I can't find a source). Number two is a more simple answer, and it's best stated by a quote from Kieron Gillen, author of the graphic novel Die: What does not exist that I want to see? That's really it. I've seen a lot of Open Space events; I now understand a lot more about ADHD and how people with it operate, as well as how it affects professional adults like myself. I'd like to see what happens when those two things get together. I suspect it's going to be amazing. Yeah, but what if it isn't? Well, there's another aspect of this thing. I thought I knew exactly where my recurring negative self-talk comes from — a particularly strong influence during my childhood. It's likely that there's some ways it was exacerbated by certain ADHD traits — rejection sensitivity disorder and echolalia turn it into a cross between a schoolyard bully and an earworm. But about age sixteen I learned how to ignore it. Not through the means they usually prescribe. No affirmations, no positive psychology. Even the good old "Is it true?" question that tries to logic away self-doubt and paranoia doesn't really work. I know that I have been proven wrong so many times, that the best I can ever answer to that is "Well, probably not, but maybe." But there's another step to that which has let me do many things that I would not otherwise have dared. Things that I'm proud of accomplishing, and things I'm proud of just having tried, even if they didn't make me a millionaire. When that voice comes into my head saying What if no one comes to the Open Space? What if no one likes it? What if you fail, for the first time, to hold a space where people can share their passions and concerns and ideas? The answer is simple: So what? At least I tried. It's not "do or do not." It's "Yeah? And so what?" We're having an open space. I'm 99% sure it's going to be awesome. But either way — I can't wait to find out. I hope you feel that way too. Spoiler: it was! You can read the after-action report here.
The Least Helpful Advice I've Ever Been Given About ADHD (00:08:43)
Please stop telling me my brain has a "Special Superpower." "I'm a fish in a forest." I'm pretty sure at some point I'm going to make t-shirts with this statement. It's my reaction to the oft-repeated "superpower" trope about ADHD. Here's a bit of a rant…but I suspect it will resonate. TRANSCRIPT OF MAIN BODY There are two kinds of people when it comes to ADHD. On the one side, there are people like Dr. Russell Barkley, whose research has led him to call ADHD "the diabetes of the psychology": It's a chronic disorder that must be managed every day to prevent the secondary harms it's going to cause… ADHD is the most treatable disorder in psychiatry…" And on the other side, people reject the idea that it's a disorder at all. I'm not talking about the ableist idiots* who claim ADHD doesn't exist at all. No, I'm talking about people like Thom Hartmann, a radio host and author of "ADHD: A Hunter in a Farmer's World." Their premise is that a brain that doesn't process dopamine as efficiently gives a person very valuable skills. Can't focus on what's in front of you or sit still? That's because your hunter ancestors were constantly scanning their environment, ready to leap into action when a threat or prey was spotted. And once the chase began, that hyper focus was really handy in running the potential food for ground. It's a bias towards action, and in a hunter-gatherer society that was really useful! Not a disorder at all. They can both be right. I'm not enough of an academic to dispute either claim (though I do give the latter a bit of side-eye due to the evolutionary-psych aspects). I also very much appreciate the friends and readers who, when I first went public about my own experience, were quick to reassure me that there was nothing wrong with me at all. As one Medium comment put it, "ADHD sounds like it's your super-power, dude…Because your brain's wired differently you have the ability to add a different perspective to our consensusWorld as well as to Life-Its-Own-Self — one that might prove exceptionally valuable for some other person who's also "neurodivergent" or whatever the guys in the white lab coats are now calling it…am wondering why you are not celebrating." I appreciate that. I do! I understand the intent, and I have done it myself. For example, did you know that people who live with depression have a more accurate worldview than people without it? That's a definite advantage over all those optimists — so cheer up! Depression is your super power! And it still sucks. More to the point, I can't buy groceries or pay rent with my different perspective, no matter how much it has added to "Life-Its-Own-Self." And my inability to keep track of what bills need to be paid when or remember to pick up my daughter from the mall before it closes is not "exceptionally valuable" to anyone. Personally, I do not find that particular reframe valuable. It echoes the "so much potential" and "you could be anything you want if you only apply yourself" tropes I grew up with. I can be anything I want, sure — except be a person without ADHD. Or, for a little over half a century, even a person who knew they had ADHD. Perhaps the easiest way to explain why I have a problem with this particular philosophy of ADHD is through the quote that is often cited in videos, articles, and discussions. It's a quote which was almost certainly not from Albert Einstein: "Everyone is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid." There's one big problem with that metaphor. I'm still a fish in a forest. I've been watching as my peers seem to effortlessly build treehouses, visit each others branches, amass beautiful leaf collections and talk about how they can't wait to visit the canopy…while I've flopped and gasped and done the best I could with a hacked-together water tank strapped to my gills and mismatched shoes on my fins. If I sound frustrated, it's simply because until recently, nobody told me I was a fish. Rest assured, most of the anger and resentment is self-directed; nor do I want to take away from anyone else whatever reframe helps them come to terms with their own experience of ADHD. For me, thought, the "ADHD is a superpower" philosophy feels like the Horatio Alger of psychology. It breaks what Jaclyn Paul (author of Order From Chaos) calls Rule #1: you must make peace with reality. We are fish in a forest where success is measured by what tree you live in. The ability to breathe underwater doesn't mean much. It is, at best, a curiosity, a fairy tale vignette of success "against the odds." What's a guppie to do? I don't really have the answer to that, though I appreciate that there are many, many people here and other places on the internet that are trying to figure it out. That, perhaps, is the first step. Pool our knowledge, if you will.** For better or worse, I live in the forest. The most useful thing right now is to find and build things that make it easier for me to do so. I do see the rare instances of pescatory glory there in the branches, and it is inspiring. But if this was a superpower, it would be easy. And it ain't that. * an entirely unbiased and scientifically backed label** sorry not sorry.
From Now to Not-Now: ADHD and Temporal Discounting (00:11:56)
The many ways professionals with ADHD find to externalize their executive function and get %$#@ done. TRANSCRIPT OF PODCAST "Hang on a minute," my coworker said through the zoom. "I need to take care of this now, or it won't get done." I nodded and sat back in my office chair. "I get it. Let me know when you're done." The task was small, tedious, and crucial to the success of our upcoming fundraising campaign for the rape crisis center where we work. I'd mentioned it in passing as we were covering a different topic. Now it had interrupted the flow of the meeting, not even a third of the way down the agenda. As I doodled in my notebook, listening to the clicks of them typing through my laptop speaker, I wasn't annoyed at all. Like me, my coworker deals with ADHD every moment of every day. Unlike me, they've known about it for most of their professional life, and this was how they compensated for time blindness: when a task was essential, it took priority, because they couldn't trust their brain to take care of it later. That method worked for them; they are very good at their job. My own coping strategy had unconsciously developed decades ago, before I really even knew about ADHD in anyone. It takes the form of the little notebook I carry with me almost everywhere, full of little dashes for tasks needing to be done that turn into plus-signs when complete. Of course, my system relies on my ability to go back to the notebook on a regular basis and actually review my lists. My coworker, on the other hand, just gets shit done. I can't say whose is better, but it occurred to me at that meeting that both of us were trying to deal with the same problem. No matter when it is, now you are. "For people with ADHD, life is either Now or Not Now…When projects are due in the future, we engage in temporal discounting: You know you need to get going on it, but there's no sense of urgency and your mind focuses on other matters until the day before. Temporal discounting is no longer a factor when what was in the future is now. — Susan Lasky, M.A., BCC, SCAC If the term "temporal discounting" is new to you (it was to me) it basically goes back to that %$#@ marshmallow experiment. You know, the one where supposedly a child's success in the future was determined by whether or not they could resist eating a marshmallow long enough for a second marshmallow to be delivered, or if they succumbed to the immediate gratification of eating it now. There are all kinds of problems with that study, starting with the fact that in 2018 when researchers tried to replicate it, …they did not see a significant correlation with how long kids had been able to wait and future success and performance…waiting only the first 20 seconds accounted for the majority of what was predicted about future academic achievement. Waiting longer than 20 seconds didn't track with greater gains. — Psychology Today Another issue is that it's more to do with the confidence in authority figures:if a child doesn't believe that the promised second marshmallow will ever be delivered, they are likely to go for the arguably smarter idea of one in the mouth is worth two in the nope, sorry, we're all out of marshmallows. In some ways it feels like the entire rise of civilization is one marshmallow experiment after another: can you hold on to your resources long enough for them to be leveraged into something more? Take a look at the gleam in a financial planner's eyes as they talk about the magic of compound interest. If I can keep from spending that money, put it in a savings account and wait, it will be worth more in the end. (I know, high inflation and low interest rates have kind of ruined that idea, but it used to be true). What if you don't believe in "the end"? Or at least, can't really intrinsically understand it? Then that money is just sitting there, doing nothing, and meanwhile the world is filled with stuff that I want! Mix in a little scarcity mentality, and you end up with a whole lot of paycheck-to-paycheck or, worse, robbing-Peter-to-pay-Paul monetary strategies. …research, commissioned by the digital bank Monzo and conducted by YouGov, found that those living with ADHD are four times more likely to frequently impulse-spend than those who do not have the condition. — Rupert Jones in the Guardian, June 2022 Compound interest doesn't just apply to money. Temporal discounting is like impulse buying, but with tasks rather than cash. When you can't intuitively feel what task should have the highest priority or the most impact, all to-dos seem equal — which means that looking at a long list of them is like being in a supermarket: overwhelming choices, all clamoring for your attention. My co-worker was not giving in to an ADHD impulse when they decided to do that task in the middle of our meeting. They were using a tactic to counter it; experience had shown that when a task was labeled "important and essential", the best way to make sure it got done was to do it now. Any other method, for them, was too much of a risk. My own strategy is demonstrably less effective at getting things done, because it relies on a combination of tactics and what ADHD researchers call "scaffolding." What it comes down to — both with financial acumen and task management — is executive function, and that's what we have trouble with. My personal mantra is a hybrid paraphrasing of Dr. Russell Barkley and fictional Martian astronaut Mark Watney: Executive function? I'm going to externalize the $#@% out of it! So when I hear that something is essential, unlike my coworker, I whip out my notebook and my multipen, selecting the red ink, and dash something off: do this later. But that's dependent on a lot of things: I have to have my notebook ready. I have to have a pen as well (been burned by this before) I have to write the task both quickly and legibly, which is often a difficult combination. Most important: I have to have a time set aside to come back to my notebook and process that task. Oh, and then the task itself has to be actually done. That's a whole lot of executive functioning going on inside that error-prone system, and if you're wondering to yourself "why doesn't he just remember to do it later? then you really need to read this article — or at least understand that time you start a sentence with "why don't they just-" it is a sign that your empathy needs some work. My strategy is more fragile than my co-worker's just do it tactic, but it's not necessarily better. We both go to the trouble of interrupting our meeting to make sure that the important task that we can't trust to stay in our brains still gets done. The only slight advantage I can see to my system is that it doesn't derail the flow of the meeting — but at the same time it's got a lot of points of failure. It's all tactics for the same strategy: escaping the tyranny of Now. Part of the reason I feel so seen and included now that I have my ADHD diagnosis is that finally my decades-long obsession with time management, scheduling techniques, and productivity hacks makes sense. While not all ADHD coping strategies are about escaping the tyranny of now, it's a pretty high percentage. I would even argue that our trouble with time-blindness and the associated effects are the first symptom of ADHD we have to deal with — because otherwise we won't have time to deal with any of the others. (Even as I write that, my brain is arguing What about emotional regulation? Don't you have to be calm enough to take a look at your strategies in the first place? Maybe that's another article. I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments). Most of all, though, while the strategy may be universal, the tactics are personal. It's not about finding the best productivity system or time-management app; it's about finding the best one that works for you right now. And it's especially important to have those last two words, because thanks to hedonic adaptation and a %$#@-ed up dopamine distribution system, the one that works today might not work tomorrow. There very well may come a meeting when I see my co-worker narrow their eyes, pick up a pen, and scribble something in their notebook, even while I'm opening up another window next to Zoom to take care of something now. It's ok. We'll still get %$#@ done.
ADHD Open Space - Professionals with ADHD Interview with Erotic Artist Nadia Vanilla (00:30:52)
The GrayDHD Drinking Game (00:44:37)
Welcome to my somewhat unconventional journey through adulthood, peppered with the kind of ADHD moments that make you go, "Aha!" So, grab your favorite beverage (I would recommend coffee, the adulting juice, but you'd never sleep, so maybe try water?), and let's dive into the delightful chaos that has been my life. Every ADHD moment you spot is a reminder to take a drink — and that life is never dull! Chatterbox Kid Turned Chatty Adult It all started in a kindergarten class in New Jersey. I was the kid who couldn't stop talking, labeled with 'diarrhea of the mouth.' Little did I know, this was my first unofficial badge in the world of ADHD. Fast forward a few decades, and yes, I'm still the one public speaking both in meatspace an (of course) on podcasts, much to everyone's amusement (or dismay?). The Reading Rebel in the Classroom School days were a juggling act between being an avid reader and a somewhat attentive student. Books were my escape from the humdrum of regular classes. My teachers called it a distraction, I called it multitasking. Turns out, it was ADHD doing its thing. Home Life: A Series of Forgotten Chores Chores and I did not get along. It was that whole "attention to detail" thing. Sweep the stairs? Sure, I will - most of them, anyway. Do the laundry? I did! Except I might forget to move them from the washer to the dryer…for a few days. My parents' attempts to instill responsibility were met with my brain's unique approach to remembering tasks. It's not just forgetfulness; it's the ADHD brain's creative way of prioritizing (or not). The Procrastinating Potential in High School Oh, the high school years! A time when potential was my middle name, and procrastination was my game. Teachers saw a bright student who just needed to 'apply himself.' I saw a bunch of homework that paled in comparison to the more exciting things in life, especially after realizing how fun "study dates" could be. Spoiler alert: That was ADHD in stealth mode, and once it discovered the dopamine-mine that is sex, my grades were never the same. Juggling: More Than Just a Party Trick Juggling wasn't just a quirky hobby I found at age 14; I believe, in hindsight, it was a necessity. It kept my hands busy and my mind at peace - a perfect antidote to the ADHD restlessness. And let's not forget the sweet tooth that often accompanied my "study sessions". Donuts, ice cream, and juggling balls - the unsung heroes of my ADHD journey. A Career Path Less Traveled From the heat of 29 Palms as a U.S. Marine to the grill of a Denny's kitchen as a short-order cook to the spotlight of adult sex education conferences, my career path has been anything but ordinary. These weren't just random choices; they were the result of an ADHD brain seeking new and stimulating experiences at every turn. Embracing the ADHD Diagnosis It took a while, but the realization finally hit - all these quirks and unique choices were the workings of an ADHD mind. Understanding this has been like getting a manual to my brain, albeit a few decades late. So, there you have it - my not-so-linear path through the maze of adult ADHD. If you've managed to keep up then congrats! You're well-hydrated, and I salute your adulting skills. Here's to embracing the chaos and finding the humor in life's unexpected ADHD moments. Keep tuning in for more tales and insights from an adult who's just figuring out the neurodivergent life.
Embracing the Journey: Reflections of a Neurodivergent Adult on Late-Diagnosed ADHD (00:10:57)
Hello, I'm Gray Miller, and today, I want to share a personal reflection on being a professional adult who was late-diagnosed with ADHD. I'm a cis white male in my mid-fifties from the Midwest, and it was only a year ago (February of 2023) that I had it confirmed that I have been living with ADHD all my life. Rather than have an exact transcript of the podcast episode, this is a summary for the TL;DL crowd; this is based on an article originally published on Medium.com. I've written on many subjects, but I'm not an ADHD expert. Instead, I have half a century of experience in unknowingly navigating life with this condition — that's expertise of a sort, right? The Reluctance to Write About ADHD: Despite having written over a thousand articles on personal development, I find myself hesitant to write about ADHD. This reluctance stems from a mix of emotions: shame for not recognizing my own condition, anger for the years of misunderstanding, fear about the future, exhaustion from the ongoing struggle, and sadness for the impact on my family. As a footnote to the exhaustion, I recognize that ADHD, treatable but not curable, presents a lifelong journey of adaptation and self-acceptance. Five Personal Reflections on Late-Diagnosed ADHD: Shame: I have explored numerous self-development techniques, yet I missed recognizing my own ADHD. This oversight challenges my credibility as a writer in this field. Anger: The signs were always there, from early school records to my eclectic career path. Discovering these as textbook ADHD symptoms has been both revealing and frustrating. Fear: Accepting that ADHD is a permanent part of my life brings anxiety. The dream of a consistent, disciplined life feels unattainable, and the public acknowledgment of my condition raises concerns about societal perceptions and career impacts. Exhaustion: The constant search for systems and routines that accommodate my ADHD is tiring. The realization of this condition in mid-life adds to the fatigue, contrasting starkly with peers settling into stable, predictable lives. Sadness: The impact of my ADHD on my family, especially the genetic implications for my children and grandchildren, weighs heavily on me. There's a profound sense of loss for what might have been had I been diagnosed and treated earlier. Writing about ADHD is challenging Not only because of the personal struggles it entails but also due to the societal stigmas surrounding it. Have I jinxed my work life forever by being open about my diagnosis? Am I alienating friends and family by talking about it so much? Maybe. But other people sharing their experiences has been crucial for me and other late-diagnosed adults like me. Discussing these challenges openly fosters understanding and support for all of us navigating life as neurodivergent adults. What do you think? Feel free to share your thoughts here in the comments, or email me at gray@adhdopen.space. Background music for this blog post is "Funny Days Together" by Background Music Lab from Pixabay.com.
The Reality of Neurodivergence: Knees Don't Lie (00:14:07)
You know how ADHD can cause you to do impulsive things? Many years ago, but for several years in a row, I decided to try the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) challenge. You try to write a 50,000 word piece (novel, whatever) in a month. I did it. It felt great. But in succeeding years it got easier, and eventually (surprise!) I got bored with it. But some friends of mine from Creative Work Hour mentioned they were doing NaPodPoMo in November. That's "National Podcast Post Month" — challenging you to post thirty podcasts in thirty days. Now, I'm also an old hand at podcasting (don't bother looking, it's gone from the internet now) but I thought it might be fun to do the challenge with a focus on the ADHD Open Space. For this first episode, there are four graphics that go along with the talk. I will post them below, but they won't make much sense until after you hear the podcast. For now, I've got several episodes recorded, several interviews/roundtables planned, but I've also got plenty of open space (see what I did there?) to talk about things that you want to talk about, explore, or share. All you have to do is post something - either in the episode comments or, if you prefer, by emailing me at gray@adhdopen.space . Hope you enjoy the show! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit adhdos.substack.com
