ADHD Life: The Clock and I
A little less than a year ago, I published my first post about getting diagnosed with ADHD at the ripe old age of 40. I’m endlessly grateful for that diagnosis and the way it helped me understand why I [insert ways that I’m weird here], when most other people don’t seem to be like that. But, I also still regularly question it, despite having spent five hours in a neuropsych evaluation and speaking to two therapists and a psychologist. I suppose being a relatively “high-functioning” ADHDer has made me feel like I ought to be able to get my shit together, like I don’t really have a brain thing, I’m just disorganized and lazy. Which is preposterous (not the disorganized part, that’s true; the lazy part).
Over the weekend, I finally undertook a garden project that I’ve been putting off for like four years. I spent hours ripping out some ornamental grasses that aggressively took over one of my garden beds. Every year I left it, I knew it would get worse. But every year when I looked at it, I thought, ugh, that’s gonna be a whole thing. I’ll deal with it later. That is my response to nearly all long-term and/or relatively involved projects. I recognize this response now for what it is, a symptom of a brain for which extended focus and the organized execution of a project involving multiple steps requires some serious cognitive heavy lifting. I’m capable of it (obviously, or I wouldn’t be able to hold down a job), but taking on this kind of cognitive load across multiple arenas in my life (multiple jobs, household management, personal projects, etc.) outstrips my ability to cope.
Which is why I’ve realized that, as much as I love gardening, and I’m fairly adept at growing things, I will probably always be a bit of a chaos gardener. As in, I rarely have a plan for what I’m planting, my garden usually looks more wild and unkempt than I intend it to (even accounting for my preference for a naturalistic garden), and the numerous huge, long-term projects I’d love to take on in the yard will probably have to wait… or may never get done at all. Especially because paying a landscaper is not a thing we do.
I’ve been reflecting recently on all the complex long-term projects I’d like to do, but have so far failed at doing. Turning my whole yard into a permaculture/food/native landscape suburban oasis and writing a book are the big ones, and feel just as out of reach now as they did a year ago. I’ve been taking Wellbutrin as a gentler, more accessible, off-label treatment for ADHD for about a year. I suppose it’s been working alright, better than nothing. But it ain’t no Adderall. Do I change my meds? Maybe. But I’m not sure Adderall will be the silver bullet I think it’ll be. Because I think I have a relationship with time that is fundamentally incompatible with modern life as we live it. That’s a deeper problem than can’t be solved by just popping an occasional stimulant.
Because of my diagnosis, I’m more aware of the way my brain shifts between topics and ideas all day long. I can recognize now when I go into modes of hyperfocus (usually writing these essays and gardening - two things that, once I get started, I often won’t surface from again for hours. And when I do, I’m dehydrated and hungry). And I’m now more aware of this resistance to projects that are “too involved.” And the tyranny of the 24 hour clock can make it feel insurmountable.
You see, even a regular brain would struggle with juggling the life of a modern working parent - in my case, jumping between: a “real job” that pays the bills, a side hustle (growing flowers for a florist), a Substack, volunteering to chair my town’s environment commission which advises our government on environmental policy, parenting/spousing/family-ing, maintaining an old-ass home that’s always broken, keeping a regular exercise schedule which is probably the most important thing I do for my mental health, doing chores, having a social life (which is, sadly, rather paltry these days), having hobbies, having downtime, aspiring for some sort of meaningful spiritual life but settling for just reading books on Buddhism because I don’t even know where to begin connecting with a spiritual community that doesn’t make me cringe, and then squeezing in some book writing time.
Now, this is far too much for anyone, let alone a mom with ADHD and two small kids. There are places I could pull back. And a brain more adept at living in the world we’ve built would just compartmentalize. When you gotta work you gotta work. When it’s writing time it’s writing time. My problem is, when there’s dishes in the sink or a handyman to be called or a mountain of kid art to be… um… dealt with (surreptitiously disappeared, except the really good stuff) or an impending ecological collapse, these things sit in the back of my brain and stare at me while I’m trying to do other things. Have you ever tried to work while someone’s staring you down? It’s distracting, to say the least.
But, I’ve also started to realize it’s not just the quantity of shit we all have to think about and deal with on a daily basis, it’s also the rigidity of time as we structure it for ourselves. Rigid schedules are an absolute nightmare for me. It took me so many years to realize that a 9-5 job was never gonna work. I just needed more fluidity to my day. The whole “you gotta do this thing at exactly this time and finish it by that time” structure of like, all of society, is really hard.
You’re probably like: oh, grow up. That’s just life.
But, it’s not. Most of human history wasn’t lived according to a rigid, 24-hour clock. Of course, early civilizations had technology like the sundial and used astronomy to keep track of the passage of time throughout a day. But the mechanical clock wasn’t invented until the 14th century, and wasn’t really well established as a tool for timekeeping until the 15th century. And it wasn’t until the late 19th century that the universal 24-hour day and time zones were established (in connection with the expansion of railroads, unsurprisingly). The growth of the use of timekeeping devices has gone hand-in-hand with industry, the control of labor, and colonization. In fact, the entire concept of a 24-hour day and a seven-day week is an artifact of European colonization. Which is to say, there’s nothing inherently natural at all about imposing an eight-hour, 9-5 work day, or a five-day work week.
I’m not saying there aren’t good reasons to keep track of time throughout the day, but the tyranny of the clock is a relatively recent invention in human history. And let’s be honest, one that we all probably hate a little bit. Or a lot. It’s no stretch to imagine that such a system might be especially challenging for all kinds of people for all kinds of reasons. It has often occurred to me, and no doubt many other folks who think about these things, that a so-called disability like ADHD may not even have been an issue prior to the imposition of the modern work day. With a bit more fluidity, I wonder how many more of us would be able to flourish?
After all, Leonardo Da Vinci probably had ADHD, and he was able to do pretty cool things with his time, despite his inability to finish a lot of stuff. Honestly, this article I linked about Da Vinci is #relatable. I would love to spend a couple hours in the morning working on a clay horse sculpture, then flit off at lunchtime to paint a couple brushstrokes on a chapel ceiling, then disappear for the rest of the day, probably to look at clouds or do a deep dive on the history of the plough or some shit. But what’s also relatable is his lamenting at the end of his life how many things he wanted to accomplish but never finished. That’s the fear. And also maybe where us ADHDers need to reframe things: celebrating all that we have done and can do, and letting go of all the things we never did. There are many more important things than productivity.
Sometimes I joke that I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. That’s sort of true, in that every week I find a new thing to be interested in and start researching. But, I actually know exactly what I want to do with my life, which is write full-time, spend time in nature and get dirt under my nails, and try to teach folks how and why we should love the earth and each other. I’ve got the end goal in mind. It’s getting there that’s the problem. Perhaps that’s a little bit true for all of us.
So, maybe some Adderall will help. But, I think I also need to keep trying to inhabit a different kind of time. One that’s a bit more expansive, more fluid, and more grounded in the slow unfurling of the day. What gets done gets done. What doesn’t is there, or not, for another day.