Tag: adhd

Why you should say f*ck off to faking it

Today, I’ll start by giving you a choice; you can see this post as the trivial, banal waffle of a fortysomething spinster, or as a welcome distraction to the soon to be if not already 3rd world war currently monopolising every news broadcast out there. Regardless of your choice, please be aware that I will now be diving straight into a rant, in an attempt to escape the harsher realities of my own existence.

If you’d like something more palatable, I suggest you go watch this episode of Banana Man on YouTube – you can do so by clicking anywhere on this sentence. It is quite delightful. Also, made by actual human beings using their actual minds. Even the voices are real.

Or you can pass START without collecting 100 dollars and instead spend a fiver supporting the poor by clicking on this one.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

We’ve all heard the phrase ‘fake it until you make it’, but as dishonest as such an approach may be – at least it used to come from a place of needing to accomplish something (and more often than not, the fakery came with a valuable learning experience or two). With the rise of AI, however, the faking has become the norm, and what’s more, no one seems to see the need to learn anything, even when it comes to developing a personality. What was initially designed to be a helpful tool to help develop ideas has become the thing that surely will eradicate both art and empathy in modern society. I’m not presenting this as fact, but I’d say it’s a rational fear at the very least. By faking your way through life using nowt but shortcuts and with no desire to add to your skillset, you’re not only lying to the people that have to suffer through your incompetence – you’re lying to yourself. It’s the ultimate injustice. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself (and that this is a common trait for neurodivergent folks), it’s that I cannot stand injustice. Thus, there is no way that faking it to get ahead is the best solution for us.

To those who still don’t get it, I ask you this; what will you do once you reach the proverbial top? You’ve faked your way there and learned fuck all along the way. How the hell do you expect to carry on the charade?

I have chosen this particular topic, as I keep finding myself in positions where I am meant to pick up the ball from where one of these fakers left it, with no trace of them having done any actual work. In one such scenario, I kept asking for an overview of the processes and tasks I was to become responsible for in their absence, and was (after almost a month) presented with a list of links and a Word document with instructions for using software in which I am already proficient. Me being me, I thought I shouldn’t knock it before trying – maybe they had a better way of doing things – but I soon found myself stumped by the inaccuracy of the instructions. So, of course I asked them to clarify. (I’ve been wrong enough times in my life to know better than pretending to get it…). At which they simply replied; ‘oh, it’s easy, I just asked ChatGPT and jotted down the response for you’. No wonder the ‘quick fix’ tips did fuck all!

At least, with a paid version AI, you can get some decent guidelines, but you should probably run a few tests before listing them in an on-boarding document, eh? Also, I’d much rather do a non-assisted search to find three credible sources and take it from there, instead of having to fact-check anything generated by artificial intelligence.

I know I could’ve let this go – perhaps even should’ve, but I ended up wasting so much of my time trying to make use of the so-called instructions (and doubting myself) that I just couldn’t. It would have been better to just crack on the way I always do, and to revise my textbooks and course videos if and when I’d get stuck.

Over the past few years, I’ve seen so much of this and I’ve had enough. Why should people like me get punished for wanting to do the work and, for instance, writing my own CV and cover letter, when fakers, who’d rather sit all day and chat about what colour they’re going to paint the nursery than doing any actual work, get all the jobs they apply for because they don’t bother fact-checking the lies the AI bot has produced by creating a text out of their poorly worded bullet points? GAH.

Hear me when I say that I am quite irate. You’ve poked the bear one too many times. And this is much, much bigger than me being annoyed at lazy fakers.

Imagine, if you will, that something truly horrible happened to you – a crippling illness, or you were wrongfully accused and incarcerated for murder – would you trust a doctor or a public defender that “got “earned” their qualifications by taking shortcuts? Or, if all of the pipes in your house suddenly burst and needed replacing in the middle of winter, would you trust yourself or a partner using AI and YouTube videos to fix it over a certified plumber?

I certainly hope not.

So, what’s this to do with mental health? I hear you ask. Everything, I say.

Initially, I’d left myself a note to write and research how faking it rarely works for those with ADHD and a side of rejection and/or justice sensitivity. You can read more about this in Amelia Kelley (PhD)’s article on Psychology Today: How justice sensitivity amplifies world issues for ADHD.

I didn’t realise this was a thing until I got diagnosed – I’d just always thought I had a strong sense of justice. This helped explain a few things, but mostly why it felt so unnatural and just wrong for me to be faking anything. It’s like lying to yourself, and our need for justice will help our subconscious see through the lies, so we’ll end up feeling as if we’ve effectively tried to pull one over on ourselves. It’s like masking, but when we really don’t have to – or even should. (One could argue that you should never try to hide who you really are, but hey).

Which brings me to the scary, and most of all really quite harmful, side effect of masking: SKILL REGRESSION; defined on Psychology Today as “behavioural “backtracking” or reversion to earlier coping mechanisms that can occur as people progress through different stages of development”.

This was explained in much simpler terms in a podcast episode I listened to the other day (link at the very end of this post), as the regression of skills you learned while masking. Once you get treated for your symptoms and no longer need to mask, some of these skills may even need to be relearned and new neural pathways need to be constructed to help locate the seemingly forgotten skill. (Thank fuck for neuroplasticity, eh?). I wonder if this works for repressed memories as well. Who knows.

Anyway, I am at the end of my rope here and I need to get ready for work. I promised you a link, so enjoy this episode of Hypercast by clicking on the Spotify link below.

See you next Tuesday! There may or may not be a post on suicide recovery and friendship. Stay tuned.

0

Finding calm with a busy brain

Blurry gig photo

I took this photo at a gig this weekend, just as the shutter on my camera stopped working properly – hence the blur. Not a great thing to have happen mid-show. Alas, when I was going through the hundreds of images I had uploaded from my trusty Canon onto my desktop in the hope of finding something usable, my heart jumped a little at this particular photo. THIS is what my brain feels like when I’m told to be quiet or to sit still for any undisclosed length of time. It might resemble noise pollution to most, but, to me, it is more akin to an everchanging tapestry of neurons firing and processor overload.

If you, like me, have a slightly over-active mind, where there’s no end to the constant chatter going on behind your eyes, you may have been guilty of rolling your eyes so hard at the mention of the word ‘meditation’ that you’ve given yourself a headache on more than one occasion. Like trying to silence the voices in your head whilst sitting completely still for who knows how long is going to be anything other than a gigantic waste of time. Because, as we all know, this is how it works; the road to enlightenment/serenity is awarded only those who can shut down completely, sit in a lotus position for hours on end, breathe in and out in a pattern of inhalation for four seconds, hold for four, exhale for seven, without getting caught up in the counting, stop thinking about anything other than roots springing out of your arse and into the centre of mother earth (and also avoiding thinking resentful thoughts brought on by the word mother), be oblivious to the fact that the earth’s centre is filled with lava that will surely burn your rectal roots and not ground them, all the while trying to keep your eyes closed and not check the time every five seconds, to make sure you’ve counted your breathing seconds correctly. WRONG!

This might be how traditional meditation has been presented to most of us through books, films, YouTube channels and podcasts, and “everyone” all claim that meditation is “great” for people with ADHD, but no one’s ever bothered to tell us why it’s so great, shared with us the philosophy behind it, or let us know that there aren’t really any rules to how you should meditate. Turns out, you don’t even need to keep your eyes closed!

If you started reading this under the misapprehension that it would be another well-researched post filled with interesting links, I apologise. I’ve been under so much stress lately that I’ve been searching rather desperately for anything that could help, so when I came across this random podcast episode where they were discussing ADHD and meditation, I didn’t remember to bookmark it for later. (Very clever, I know). But the general gist of it, I remember, because the host and their guest confirmed something that I have been theorising for quite some time; that meditation can be relative to the person doing the meditation.

Let me explain for a second: I find running meditative, especially when I go hard enough that my body becomes so tired that I can no longer stop my thoughts from flowing freely, which in turn brings forth many a solution to any conundrums I have had in the past. If I need to sort something out, that I can’t get my head around, or have an impossible deadline and keep procrastinating, I go for a long run, aiming for a PB. That works for me. I’ve tried sooooo many guided meditations, both live and to recordings, and all they do is stress me out. There’s too many rules! And how am I meant to find inner peace when people keep breathing, or the so-called guide keeps mispronouncing certain words or saying nonsensical things? Why can’t they just shut the fuck up so I can collect my thoughts for a second? Oh, I’m meant to “empty my mind and let go of what no longer serves me”. Right. How about giving me a goddamned second to think about what that might be? Oh, we’re manifesting now. Okay. What the fuck? I need to do things my way.

Needless to say, I was more than relieved when I heard the aforementioned episode, because – like many others with ADHD – I need confirmation on certain things. I need to know I’m doing things correctly. (It’s a miracle that I ever manage to walk anywhere without overthinking my every step, because no one has ever confirmed that I’m following the foot placement recipe correctly).

So, I thought I’d share this with whoever else out there needs it. It gave me some piece of mind and I am allowing myself to stop torturing myself with the biweekly guided meditation pod I’ve been following for the past three years. That’s more than 39 hours of time wasted… but it could have become a lot more had I not realised that I can meditate in the way that I see fit.

So, what is the purpose of meditation? I like what I found on study.com: “Meditation is an act of connecting the mind and body to the present moment.”

They also list seven different types of meditation, in which we find ‘movement meditation’. I feel like so many have focussed on the relaxation aspect of mindfulness meditation, that it’s become ingrained in our culture that we need to be half-asleep in order to connect with our truth. There is something to be said for the breath work in meditation, of course, but I don’t necessarily think that you would have to follow a pattern set by someone else. Do you have someone set the temperature for your shower as well? I certainly hope not. It can of course be helpful to have a look at different techniques and what works best for which type of meditation, but at the end of the day, your meditation practice needs to work for you. It’s precious alone time for you and your brain – even the busier kind!

To finalise, this is a time of year when there’s more unwanted noise coming from every angle than normal. Perhaps we can find a way to turn all that food noise, money noise, people noise into background noise by finding a small pocket of alone time in a day. Just five minute can be enough, this podcast told me – that’s less than an average poo!

And on that note, I bid you farewell for the last time in 2025. See you next Tuesday!

Oh – please buy my book. I am very poor and in need of a new camera.

Perhaps I’ll kick the new year off with an interview with an up and coming band from Norway’s metal scene… Keep your peepers peeled!

HAPPY NEW YEAR, MAY THE NEW ONE BE A BIT LESS SHIT.

Wee update! I found a great article on ADDitude.com, where they provide a detailed account of how you can make meditation part of your daily routine without too much hassle. Click anywhere on this sentence to read. Cheers!

0

Is this love…

… that I’m feeling? Not bloody likely, research says. If you’re anything like me, that is. But as it turns out, I’m far from unique in this respect.

You might recognise the words above as lyrics from the 87′ Whitesnake hit ballad Is This Love – if not, you should click on this sentence to watch the original video on YouTube. My undying love (?) for David Coverdale is such that I have every intention of naming my dog after him, once I can get my hands on an Airedale Terrier. Regardless, it is a fantastic song, as all-encompassing as the feeling itself, and one I’ve wailed along to countless times. But was it really love that I felt all of those times, that led to my heartbreak? Or was it in fact limerence, which is more akin to symptoms of withdrawal than love. Whatever that is.

As you may probably already be acquainted with ‘love’, I won’t waste a lot of time going on about it. I’m quite fond of Strapping Young Lad‘s definition; “a way of feeling less alone“. Urban Dictionary has posted a few rather interesting definitions. One of the few I liked (you can read all of them by clicking here) goes as follows: “Love is beyond the ego. There is no ego when you love.”

The above is enough for me to assume that no one really knows how to define ‘love’. Perhaps it’s just one of those feelings that shouldn’t be analysed? Of course people had to go and shit on it by trying to pigeonhole it.

And then, of course, someone decided there is such a thing as a ‘one true love’ for everyone out there. Which resulted in a whole lot of entertaining film and literature, which a lot of people has taken to be something other than entertainment – perhaps even a sort of manual for how love works – and then went on to drill that into the heads of their unsuspecting offspring, leading to a lot of unnecessary heartache, resentment and social awkwardness.

See, the romantic relationships often presented in popular books and movies are so over the top you can’t help but be a little mesmerised. But surely you wouldn’t expect to find the Sam to your Annie on Tinder, swiping away and getting his leg over with every Tara, Doris and Helen, when he’s meant to be your one?

Art is meant to make you feel something, to give you a temporary escape from reality for an hour or two, or even be inspired to do something you’ve always wanted to – everyday life will very rarely give you that over the course of 300 pages or 90 minutes. So the main characters have to fall in love over a week’s time. Or at first sight. Or go from enemies to lovers seemingly by the drop of a hat – or pair of knickers. But that doesn’t mean it works that way in real life.

Things take time, for the most part. I am aware there are exceptions to the rule, but in most cases – and certainly with folks who tend to emotionally dysregulate – any instant fireworks are likely to be limerence and not much else. And that shit wears off faster than you can get rid of the STIs you contracted from hopping into bed (or onto the pub toilet) with mister/ms/they/them right within minutes after meeting them, because why would you need to use contraceptives if they are ‘the one’? That means they are practically a virgin, right? Or at least that you’re the only person they’ve ever managed to penetrate without any love gloves, right?

Wrong. In-cor-rectum.

I’m not saying I don’t believe in ‘the one’. In fact, I’d really like to think that there’s a person out there just for me. But if there is, I am a hundred percent sure that they won’t make me feel as if I am suffocating when I’m not breathing in the same air as him, that I’m missing a limb when we are apart, that I’ll die if he’ll ever leave me. Limerence makes you feel like that. And, despite my mother telling me it is “not possible to fall in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same way about you”. And so I walked the earth for a total of 41 and a bit years before realising that not everyone feels this way about things. Or, indeed, people.

So, I held on to the lies, until I rather recently naïvely exclaimed to a friend this summer: “You know, that feeling when you’re thirteen and have a crush on someone and you feel as if you’re gonna die – when you just know” – and they didn’t. Know, that is. In fact, they very gently but firmly informed me that this was a bit of a pink flag, if not all red. Which led me to purchase Kerry Cohen’s Crazy For You, through which I first came across the term (if you have a complicated relationship with love, I suggest you give this book a read).

Psychologist and love researcher Dorothy Tennov coined the term back in the 60s or 70s, to describe the intense infatuation or ‘love madness’ one can experience when it is not yet known if the romantic feelings are being reciprocated by the other person. This early phase of ‘love’ can be defined by symptoms such as “intense euphoria, a profound sense of emotional connection, mood swings, intrusive thoughts, over-arousal, obsessive infatuation and involuntary craving for the other person”.

More recent studies have shown this to be not uncommon, but for most people it wears off and develops into a real bond once a consenting relationship has been established. For others, like me, the unreciprocated obsession is often replaced by feelings of disgust or self-loathing. In any event the feelings are reciprocated, limerence wears off without turning into lasting love in about 18 months.

But this doesn’t just apply to romantic relationships. I get this feeling whenever I am faced with the prospect of something new and exciting, whether that’s a new job, a potential platonic friendship, a shiny new education, or something as banal as a packet of salt and vinegar flavoured Monster Munch.

Alas, when these feelings are not reciprocated (or my craving for the non-romantic prospects above remains unfulfilled), the poor limerent sod is left in a mental state that interferes with their day-to-day. An all-encompassing, undying desperation takes hold of the individual. Perhaps you miss work, because you are waiting up all night for them to call, or you spend all your savings on grand gestures to make them see that you mean business.

Hell, I once took off work, booked a flight and a hire car just because the person in question – whom I’d known for precisely one month by that point – doubted my ‘love’ for them. I’ve moved across the kingdom for someone I thought was ‘the one’, because they had mentioned, half-jokingly, that we’d probably be together if we didn’t live so far apart. (And, like me, they didn’t care much for the adventures of Harry Potter). I had 500 grams of Candy Corn shipped from the US, the special delivery alone costing me nearly 60£, just because I felt as if I couldn’t go another day without the flavour in my mouth. That’s not love. That’s obsession. Not like Stephen King’s Misery levels of obsession, but still. Close enough.

I’m not entirely sure where I was going with this – one can only assume that I felt inclined to explain my chosen singlehood in more scientific terms; I’m not getting myself into any more shit until I learn to differentiate between real attraction and, well, fatal attraction.

The jury might still be out on this one, but I am quite certain that I have yet to experience the privilege of being in love. Like never before, I find kinship and solace in the unforgettable words of Joni Mitchell:

It’s love’s illusions I recall, I really don’t know love at all

That’s it for now. I shall see you next Tuesday – if you’ve any topic suggestions for my next post, leave it in a comment below, or drop me a message on Instagram.

Oh – and check out my book, please xx

0

Bridging the gap

The structure you see looming over what may or may not look like a portal to an alternate universe took just over three years to complete. The bridge it replaces had served as a link between the two sides of the city centre since the 1930s. With the bridge gone, it was as if a great divide appeared in the wake of the demolition – at least from a commuter’s point of view. Sure, there were pedestrian crossings nearby, but no direct bus link or road access, unless you fancied the deluxe version of the scenic route. The new bridge sure is a sight to behold, though. Also, very functional and bridge-like.

I’m not entirely sure where I was going with this – I just like the photo.

And I am blocked.tae.feck. Not just writer’s block, but blocked in every sense of the word. You may wonder how that came about. Or, perhaps you’re wondering why I am so dead set on trying to squeeze out a few paragraphs anyway. Well, here’s why; it’s not just my liking the photo that has compelled me to pound the keys so ate in the evening – the thing is that I constantly find myself expecting everyone to expect me to bridge the gap for them, the way I always used to. I am overwhelmed, with being underwhelmed. And, being overwhelmed really trips me up, so I am inclined to think that I’m not the only one. Yes, I said I was going to write about menopause, but then I just thought to myself; why the hell would I do that, when there’s more interesting things to write about the sex life of the albatross (spoiler alert, they are NOT monogamous, at least if we’re to believe the Ocean Conservancy), or, indeed, some random bridge I decided to shoot from a weird angle.

Looking up at this massive structure, expected to be strong enough to hold the weight of the world, and at the same time be diplomatic and pleasant enough to bring opposites together, I guess something struck a nerve.

I cannot begin to describe just how bizarre it feels when you start recognising cyclical aspects to your own personality. My psychoeducation and treatment has lent me the ability to somewhat objectively observe my own behaviour in a way where I can now almost foresee my actions and reactions before they manifest, but with no means to stop them from happening. Yet, anyway.

There are hundreds of articles on ADHD overwhelm online. On Beyond BookSmart, we learn that “ADHD overwhelm can essentially lead to you feeling frustrated and upset with yourself, causing you to shut down completely, both mentally and emotionally”. Check. The Attention Deficit Disorder Association wrote about how overwhelm can lead to ADHD paralysis and ways to get past it. Others refer to ADHD overwhelm as ‘flooding’. Basically, those of us with emotional dysregulation and/or RSD can get so overwhelmed by our own emotions and environments that we shut down completely. Check, check, check.

I can get so overwhelmed by the one thing on my list that I’ve not managed to check that it feels like the items I did check don’t really matter. Because I do get shit done. Quite a lot of shit, actually, but that one little thing – even if it’s something as silly as booking in for an eye test – makes it impossible for me to move forward with the speed I expect from myself if I keep putting it off. It makes me feel like a failure. It doesn’t matter if I managed to solve 13 Rubik’s cubes in 3 minutes, or if I’ve submitted research that helped cure bowel cancer that same day, everything becomes irrelevant due to my inability to do get the easy, less important, tasks out of the way first.

It is almost 23.15pm and I’ve one more thing to check off my list before I go to bed, so I am going to take the fourth advice on the ADD’s list to heart and “focus on completion, not perfection”. I have a billion thoughts and ideas still fighting over the limited space in my shell-shocked noggin, so I will no doubt be back with something hopefully a little more profound next week. Just need to bridge a few gaps first. Make sense of some stuff. Until then, there’s a new Catharsis album out that I quite enjoyed. Link below.

See you next Tuesday! Oh, and there’s more substantial ramblings in my book, of course. Check it out by clicking on this here sentence.

1

Rumination, rebranding and other disasters

Tuesday is upon us, at long last. A home office workday has come to an end and the evening gig is but three hours away – just enough time for me to spew out some thoughts.

On the 27th of last month, I came to the realisation that something had to change. I needed to revamp my website, get an email address suitable for an adult female, start letting go of the things that no longer serve me (like the millions of threadbare band tees taking up space in my closet, so littered with holes they make the infamous emperor’s new clothes seem less revealing) – the time had come to fix my life. Yet, it’s taken me almost three weeks to justify shelling out the three bucks for a domain name I decided on back in 2014.

I should explain that this is not a unique event. These eureka moments occur at least thrice a year. BUT. The thing is, whenever I have thought something through, I always (almost without fail) end up overanalysing and ruminating until there’s very little left of the original idea and I’ve lost track of what was so great about it in the first place. Yet, spending hundreds of pounds in one transaction at Boots (or equivalent) doesn’t make me bat an eyelid. In fact, historically, my lack of impulse control in that department has been rather shocking.

So why – OH WHY?! – have I been unable to trust and listen to myself when I know in my gut exactly what I want and need to do (or, what I do NOT need or want, for that matter)? The need to meditate was hanging over me like a raincloud, so I ventured out on what was to become my fastest half marathon in three years, with only three Haribo Happy Cherries (my drug of choice) for sustenance and two hours worth of podcast episodes in my ears. The result? One very delighted and surprised middle-aged sweat-machine with a sore hip, fully determined to start cracking on that decade old to do list.

Incidentally, I think I cracked the code on that whole thing with the “ADHD super power”. When they mistakenly claim hyper focus, or their ability to make tough decisions when faced with potentially life-threatening scenarios, to be a super power, when in fact these symptoms are merely a conduit for the real super power; the masking of symptoms.

I got the idea from something someone said on a podcast about dyslexia and how some people would mask their difficulties by for instance learning a text by heart so that they could recite it in class, rather than reading it out. In much the same way, I taught myself to ‘take photos’ of pages in books that never spoke to me (trigonometry, anyone?), so that I could pull the images out whenever I had a test. As a defense mechanism, I effectively gave myself a photographic memory.

Perhaps I’ll write more on this next week. I haven’t decided yet. I might write about perimenopause. Either way, I’ve gone full gonzo. Gonzo With the Wind! Perhaps it is time to conclude this post.

Why menoPAUSE when you can menoFINISH, amirite? Ha. I jest. See you next Tuesday.

In the meantime, you can listen to the inimitable David Eugene Edwards and his Wovenhand on Bandcamp by clicking anywhere on this sentence.

0

Procrastinato ergo sum

I know… pretty pretentious header, right? Also, I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as ‘procratinato’ in Latin (or any other language, for that matter) and I refuse to Google it. Perhaps a good name for a super villain. Surely better than Dung beetle Man or whatever DeeC or Morvil is franchising these days. Anyway – if you thought I’d forgotten all about what day it was, you’d be mistaken. I have just been completely unable to complete the first (and easiest) task on my to-do list for a good ten days. Now, for some reason I am only able to cross things off my list in the assigned order, yet I have managed to do a shit-tonne of things not on my list instead. Sound familiar?

Procrastination. Expertly defined by the Government of Western Australia Department of Health as “making a decision for no valid reason to delay or not complete a task or goal you’ve committed too, and instead doing something of lesser importance, despite there being negative consequences to not following through on the original task or goal” (CCI, 2025).

Defined everywhere else as “self-defeating behaviour”. Both correct, both very in my nature. In everyone’s nature, if we are to believe the Internet. Is there a miracle cure, or does it serve a purpose? I mean, the shelves in my fridge have never been cleaner, but they weren’t really that dirty in the first place. Certainly not to the extent that I can justify potentially losing my job over choosing to scrub them for hours on end. Why do we do it?

Some say it’s a perfectionism thing, but I’m not willing to buy that. I’d say it’s the fear of success, a symptom of unhappiness with the situation that requires you to do said task, the task’s implied simplicity fucking with our heads and making us look for pitfalls that aren’t there, or a combination of the three. Or maybe you crave the rush of completing the task at the last minute to obtain a tiny dopamine hit. Prolonged procrastination can be indicative of adult ADHD, but this has to do with poor executive functioning and task initiation. You can read more about the link between adult ADHD and procrastination in an article posted by Berkeley Psychiatrists by clicking on this sentence.

Regardless, procrastination isn’t something that just affects people with neurodevelopmental disorders – it can affect the best of us. And, boy, is it a blooming time suck!

Anyway, that really has to be it for now – I’ve got about a fortnight’s worth of work to do in 72 hours (don’t worry, I can manage) and should get back to it. I leave you today with a link to a podcast episode I was enjoying earlier today (before I realised what time it was and nearly had a stroke). The first one is on ADHD and willpower, the other is an interview with Marishhhhhhhhhhka Hargitay. Next time, I think I’ll write about FEAR, if I haven’t already.

Hypertentionally Yours, E. C U next Tuesday!

0

When am I? Time blindness, on speed

I remember very well the first time I heard the lyric, “Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it“, because my 11 year old self could relate in a very real way. Cheers, Green Day.

I may not have known what a dookie was at 11, but I knew neurosis. (Excellent band, by the way, Neurosis.)

Now, for a multitude of reasons, I’m not a fan of Freudian psychoanalytic theory. Or, perhaps I am not a fan of how it seems to have become gospel to so many. Therefore, I am not going to delve much deeper into neurosis as a descriptive tool, so often used by followers of the aforementioned theory. In my humble opinion, old Sigmund was a bit of a wanker, with a massive Oedipus complex. In his inability to seek treatment for his own obsession with his mother, it appears that he decided to use his professional platform to ruin everyone else’s relationship with theirs. He might have been the founder of psychoanalysis, but some of his theories – because they would always circle back to the repressive element and make it into something dirty, rather than simply unhealthy – are pure bad philosophy, dressing up as medical science. I’m not saying we should underestimate the power of the Id, but take the man with a pinch of salt. Why does it always have to be about sex with this boy? Not everyone is repressed. Also, the world has changed quite a bit since his time. A good theory rarely has one finite solution.

Anyway…

So, if you haven’t guessed already, I’m a wee bit neurotic. Psychology Today defines neuroticism as “a tendency toward anxiety, depression, self-doubt, and other negative feelings“. That’s me, in a nutshell. Always have been, always will be. Or will I? Am I? Because it seems to me that, with the need to mask symptoms gone, I have somehow adopted a very laissez-faire attitude to some things in life. I am hurdling through my day, or even weeks, with a more or less lackadaisical attitude towards the constructs of time. Like, where the fuck did August disappear to?

I have a theory, but first some back story. I was taught from an early age that being late to something should be punishable by death. Or worse. And so I became obsessed with time. Not time itself, really, more with the actual telling of it, as it appeared to have some sort of magical effect of dictating people’s lives.

For instance, I was led to believe you absolutely must have dinner by 5pm, or you won’t be able to have an evening meal. Why? I do not know. Meaning, you’ve got to spend your whole day preparing for this monumental event, that’s essentially just a ritual during which we put nutrients into our bodies so that we’ll have ample energy to reach new levels of anxiety brought on by said meal. In my case, this had me checking my watch every 4 minutes, just to make sure I’d be prepared to leap up and get everything sorted in time for the big event. Hello stress, bloating, indigestion and tics galore, my involuntary muscle spasms causing me to drop my fork, flip my plate or poke myself in the face with the knife, ultimately turning every dinner into a catastrophic affair I still dread to this day.

I’m sure that you can see by the above example, that I might be the type of person that will classify everything that’s not at least 15 minutes early as late. I blame this now, in part, on time blindness. Because, after reading an illuminating article about this in Focus, I discovered that it’s not just about constantly being late to things due to poor time perception, it can also mean that you are always “way too early, to avoid being late“. That’s me, to a T. Or, at least it was.

Imagine my surprise when I just the other day discovered it was gone 3pm and I had missed a deadline (a deadline I’d set for myself and not the actual hard deadline set by the editor, thank fuck, but still). The last time I’d even checked the time was when I was brewing my morning cuppa, and I didn’t even manage to do that in any neurotic, orderly fashion, as I got lost in an internet search and forgot all about my formerly hot and now slightly tepid and increasingly bitter coffee at approximately 9.04 – six minutes after I should have poured it into my neon green penis mug. (My favourite mug, in case you were wondering.)

Normally, I’d have set a timer or started my stop watch, or both, whilst counting to 270 (for the perfect brew), AND simultaneously checking the time to see if I was off by a millisecond or two. But now? I had not a care in the world. And the lack of stress is starting to stress me the fuck out. What if I were leave the stove on and my flat burned down with me in it? Or I forgot to go to work, like, at all? Have I become one of those too relaxed people that everyone else has to accommodate? Does this mean that I have lost the one quality I’ve always prided myself on – the fact that I am always, ALWAYS on time? Will I start being late for things?!

I had a colleague once, who was always 30 minutes late to work, every single day without fail – even on the days we had morning meetings first thing, so we had to move them to suit her seemingly ignorant behaviour. The few times I asked her to please let us at least know whether or not she was going to be late, she simply replied “Chiiiiiiiiill“, in a way that suggested I was the problem. I always found that incredibly rude, and certainly wouldn’t want anyone to think of me in the same way. But now, it appears, I can’t help it. I’ve become too relaxed. Crossed over to the dark side, without even realising it.

That’s it for now. I’ll see you next Tuesday – if I can even remember when that will be, or who I am, that is.

Also, do something that’ll make you laugh. There’s so much shit in the world and I we are going to be able to deal with it in any decent way, we need to take a break once in a while. If you find something that can make your shoulders drop by even half an inch, let us know. If you like dark shit, you should read my book.

Me, I like Amy Poehler and her Good Hang podcast. Check out her Instagram in the previous link and click on the Spotify icon below to listen to a recent episode.

Ciao for now!

0

Invasion of the neuro-fluencers

Illustrates the interrupting noise of inaccurate podcasts

In our day and age, anyone can take to almost any media platform and build themselves a brand and dub themselves an expert – no qualifications needed, other than being able to use your own computer and having access to the Internet. To create your own podcast, the ability to speak comes in handy as well, and you might require a microphone or some sound editing software, should you happen to care about the listener’s wellbeing at all. It appears you can also decide how your pod is labelled. Herein lies the danger.

Today, there are a million different ADHD/mental health themed podcasts across the many streaming apps and podcast platforms, many of which I have found helpful myself. But the amount of self-proclaimed experts creating these self-help pods is shocking. Many of these podcasts are categorised as “educational”, and almost all of them have a star rating of 4 and over (out of 5). If you have recently been diagnosed and are desperately looking for tools to help you tackle your symptoms and how they impact your everyday life, this will be exactly what you’ll be looking for.

After a day of sifting through various “recommended” (by Spotify) podcasts, it became very clear to me that there are a lot of people out there with no medical background, other than their own diagnosis and the advice they got from their doctor, that are presenting their personal experience as ‘one size fits all’ facts.

They are doling out advice on anything lifestyle related, from weight loss and exercise to medication and how everyone is so different to you that you should only surround yourself with others with the same diagnosis, without even having the odd expert on as a guest once in a while to offer some balance.

Then, I came across some woman claiming you should drink 4 whole litres of water or more in a day, without mentioning the fact that gulping it all in one go isn’t particularly healthy and can lead to low blood sodium levels, among other things… Worst case scenario if you drink too much too quickly? Brain damage. You can read more about overhydration on Healthline.

Of course drinking enough water is extremely important, especially in hot summer weather – dehydration has its own challenges – but let’s have a look at what happens to the brain when it’s in danger of overhydration, shall we?

We learn from a 2024 research article published by Swedish medical university Karolinska Institutet that “a healthy adult needs around two litres of water per day, or 30-34 millilitres per kilogram of body weight. That includes both the liquid from what we eat, which may be roughly one litre per day, and from what we drink” (Odlind, Karolinska Institutet, 2024). You can read the article in its entirety by clicking any word in this sentence. The general gist of it is that you should drink when you are thirsty, and not too much in one go.

The article goes on to explain how our kidneys may struggle to filter out excess water if we over-hydrate within a short space of time, and that we can experience swelling of the brain cells if our sodium levels become too low in relation to the water levels in the body.

Even though overhydration is rare, it does happen. After what I can gather, most cases are seen in athletes performing strenuous exercise, such as marathon running or similar. If one drinks too much before a race, instead of distributing one’s water intake over time by replenishing when thirsty or too hot, it can have a detrimental effect. We are not camels; trying to fill the tank before a race will not make us go for longer without water – according to the article, quite the opposite happens; it sends a signal to the body that we have more than enough water and should get rid of the excess.

In conclusion, the so-called advice from the podcaster is potentially quite dangerous. I will not mention any names here, as I don’t want to ruin anyone’s day, but I did give them a poor rating in hope that it might help others.

Needless to say, this was the last drop for me – I had had enough of soundwave cowboys.


The above example is quite extreme, of course, but let’s delve into some of the other dangers of globally broadcast misinformation. The fact that you have a diagnosis does not automatically make you an expert on that part of the medical field, in the same way that being able to use search engines efficiently does not make you a researcher. The fact that you can use Google does not make you a scientist.

Your diagnosis might (should, with proper psychoeducation) help you become an expert on yourself and help you in your day-to-day, but it ends there. Although there are many commonalities in sufferers of the same disorder (controversial word in some circles, I know), we are all different. Your experience with a certain type of medication is not universal.

In fact, your preferred type of medication can be harmful to others, who may have comorbidities different to yours. Factors such as body type, gender, hormone levels or hereditary conditions may also affect how they respond to treatment. Only the patient’s personal medical practitioner is qualified to advise that person. I am not saying that you’re not allowed to have an opinion, but you need to realise that there is no cure-all for everyone, and that what your doctor told you is very rarely applicable to everyone else.

I know that you found your own research to be extraordinarily helpful, and that you want this same revelation for others that may struggle in the same way. But without any qualifications, your experiences are just that; YOURS. And a lot of it is just opinion. YOUR opinion. Newly diagnosed individuals may have comorbidities that you don’t know about. They need to discuss their diagnosis with their clinical therapist, neurologist or psychiatrist. Being in a vulnerable state, they may take your advice for fact. This is a real danger, people!

Sharing is caring, as they say, but remember to back up what you share with scientific evidence if you are going to present your findings as something other than opinion.

No links to any ADHD podcasts this week, as most of them are shite and I have gone off listening to them. If you want something gloriously witty, interspersed with a huge dollop of charms and filth, however, I can recommend Three Bean Salad (links in the Spotify and Instagram icons below). Go on, you know you need a laugh after this rant.

See you next Tuesday!

, , , ,
0

The Power of Luff*

Blue pills and opened pill bottle.

Recently, I was rewatching the first series of Santa Clarita Diet on Netflix (brilliant show, by the way), where the husband, Joel (portrayed by the brilliant Timothy Olyphant), mentions a possible cure for his wife Sheila’s altered, undead, state. Sheila (played by the one and only Drew Barrymore), however, is hesitant, as she is getting so much done, now that she has more energy and needs less sleep. At one point, she even exclaims: “I can parallel park in one move now!”

You might wonder where am I going with this long-winded introduction, other than displaying my love of gore and humour intertwined. Rest assured, I am about to get to the point (rather than rambling on about how I, too, would like to be able to parallel park in one move).

Although I am not undead now that I am medicated (unlike my experience with antidepressants), this really made me think; do I really want to go back to the old me? Can I be successful in life without medication? They’ve had such an immense and immediate effect on me, that I am afraid to go off them. To illustrate:

Within 30 minutes of having taken my first pill, something bizarre happened, in the way I have always imagined an acid dream might feel like. Before this, I would compare my brain to a chaotic second-hand shop, where you really have to dig around to find the good bits. Now, someone had switched on the lights and mister Cerebellum had transmorphed himself into a neat library, with every book and folder in its designated place, on long aisles arranged in alphabetical order. Even my photographic memory – that I thought I’d lost to years of drinking – has started to come back. For me, this was a life-altering experience.

Now, I am not suggesting medication is for anyone – this is about my personal experience, which is why I have excluded the type of medication and whether or not this is the only medication I am on. I am not a medical doctor and do not offer any advice on medication. The featured image is for illustrative purposes only.

Anyway, for someone previously so anti-pharma, this was a point of reckoning for me, that led to some serious soul-searching. I could not discount the effect of the medication, and it helped me focus enough to start and complete three exam papers in as many days. Instead of having to stop and think about everything to remember, I was now able to enter a room and do the thing I had gone in there to do, instead of shaking my head in frustrated confusion as to why I had moved in the first place after crossing the threshold. The song lyrics I’ve written myself, but find so difficult to remember, just poured out of me when the time came to sing them. I stopped doubting myself all of the time. The intrusive images that have haunted me for as long as I can remember were gone. My impulsivity halted and my compulsion to continue drinking or eating when I’d had enough evaporated. This, in turn led to less stress and I started to feel as if I could breathe properly.

Eventually, the effect subsided within a few days and I had to up my dosage to get an effect. The same happened again after another week or so. Then, it just sort of stabilised and the fear set in: Had I imagined the effect out of pure desperation? Would my symptoms come back little by little?

Naturally, I quickly started setting myself up for failure by pushing my boundaries, slowly breaking the new, healthier routines I had adopted, like an obstinate child. I remembered myself elatedly saying that, ‘If this works for only a week, I’ll be grateful to have had that one week where I was normal. Among the living’. Now, the Id had taken over and was on a mission to convince me that I had somehow jinxed myself by uttering those words. Of course, the anxiety caused me to fuck up. I started forgetting things again, struggled to regain focus, let my impulsivity get the better of me.

Although, what I now realise, is that I am still significantly better than I was before I started taking my meds. It is not a placebo. My natural constant hankering for dopamine makes me think that the fact that I don’t have my world turned upside down every time I take a pill, means it’s not working.

Demonstrably, my attention has improved – I am able to focus on everything when needed, not only what I am interested in. I no longer get distracted by the sound of a car driving slowly over rocks on the street outside my window. My working memory has vastly improved. But I am still me; curious, empathetic, caring, fiercely passionate about justice and equally perturbed by injustice.

I might be a bit sensitive-skinned sometimes, or reading too much into things, but at least I now know that that is down to my rejection sensitivity and that I don’t have to walk around thinking that I’ve hurt someone simply because I texted them back ‘OK’ with no emoji. (At least I texted them back, eh?)

I do wonder if I’ll ever feel strong enough to go off the meds, though. In the meantime, I’ll be here, diligently teaching myself new coping mechanisms and preparing for a life in the real world. I will persevere, somehow. I always have done. Will I succeed? That depends on how you define success.

See you next Tuesday.

If you liked my writing and fancy checking out my book, you can head on over to the section where I’ve written all about where you can get a copy – available in paperback and digitally.

If you want to watch something beautiful and thought-provoking, you should check out Sensitive Skin.

For anyone craving a gorgeous listen, you can check out the Gary Numan album I’ve linked to below. Should be played with headphones on, or through proper stereo speakers for max effect. Excellent running music!

*Luff (noun): the act of sailing a ship nearer the wind

, , , ,
0

Are traditional recruitment styles discriminatory against the neurodivergent?

If you are a recruiter reading this, I will recommend a great podcast at the very bottom of this post, that will provide a simple explanation for our career-swapping and hopefully make you realise why ignoring a lengthy CV might cost you the best person for the job.

I cannot count the number of times I have seen the following phrase in job listings: ‘CV cannot exceed two pages’. To me, this means that I would have to cut more than a decade of my work experience, which in turn will make it look like I didn’t start working until I was in my 30s. Not all of these jobs will be relevant to the one I am applying for, of course, but at the very least they help to show that I managed to work full-time through all of my years at uni.

Furthermore, most recruiters fail to notice that I managed to run my own business alongside these other odd jobs for over a decade. This makes me wonder if self-employment has any merit for the recruiter.

Then there is the issue of my education. Anything other than your standard BA+MA doesn’t sit well with recruiters. It is as if they cannot fathom that one person can manage several degrees or, indeed, different fields of expertise. Never mind the vast amount of certifications and online courses I have under my belt, in addition to my BA and MA.

I get it – my professional background may appear slightly haphazard or even schizophrenic to the naked eye. But wouldn’t you be at least a tiny bit interested in seeing who is behind all of this wizardry? After all, my CV is the result of my very real undying thirst for knowledge.

The reason why I haven’t stayed in a relevant position for more than 18 months at a time is that my background only gets me fixed-time positions lasting an average of a year. (In the service industry, however, I just got bored and/or understimulated, but I did learn a lot about stress management through my bar work – and I have been headhunted for my White Russians alone.)

Ultimately, I had to create my own niche and become self-employed in order to do something I loved, that required additional learning on the job. The bar work came in handy when I needed to find a better flat, pay my taxes up front or purchase new office supplies (or pay for all of those online courses).

Do you have any idea how much admin self-employment entails, by the way? How much networking? How many working hours? How many 24 hours-or-less turnaround times? Didn’t think so.

Additionally, my masking of my ADHD symptoms has made me a natural at fitting in anywhere and with anybody. Especially for short periods of time, of course, but I have done this for almost 40 years and am quite capable of keeping up appearances for longer. Just don’t put me in an open-plan office.

Unfortunately, my years of masking also makes it quite impossible for someone like me to fill out one of those personality compatibility tests recruitment agencies seem to love with any accuracy. The reason for this is that I will always tick the box that I think that you would like me to tick. I will make myself into the person you need me to be.

So, in my attempts to impress the recruiter or recruitment agency, I hide the qualities that make me a good fit for the actual company that is hiring.

Now for the thing that prompted me to write this piece. There is a very interesting educational podcast by the name of MissUnderstood: The ADHD in Women Channel. They do lovely, wee bitesize episodes in addition to their longer ones, and I have found a lot of support through the Tips From an ADHD Coach segment, with coach Jaye Lin.

The episode on changing careers often (Spotify link below) really struck a chord with me, especially as it highlights how our impulsivity and dopamine deficiency combined with our all-in personalities can lead to burnout in the wrong environment and have us apply for a different job somewhere else, only to repeat the process.

Our dependence on dopamine, however, make us more resilient in facing challenges. We thrive off of making the impossible possible – it’s what keeps us going.

As you can see, the episode shows the good and bad sides of how our traits can affect how long we can manage to stay in the same position over time. I do however find that the more I learn about how I’m built differently has made its marks on my professional pursuits, the better I am able to approach things differently. Unfortunately for me, I wasn’t diagnosed until I hit mid-life, so I wasn’t able to reign it in before going to uni.

There are many people like me out there, that have had to come to terms with who they really are and start everything anew after a late in life diagnosis. We can’t change the past, but we can help others like us by being vocal about our experiences. I hope you are listening.

See ya next Tuesday!

, , , ,
0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑