If A Tree Falls …

Like the old science class chestnut about sound not existing without both a source and a reception, I could have written thousands of words and, without you reading my posts, not have been writing at all. I want to thank you for that. You may have no idea what that has meant to me, but I assure you it is significant.

And I’d also like to tell you that, like the last time I penned a goodbye for Tao Of Taylor, I’m not quitting, rather, I’m moving on, up, ahead. Look for me at my new blog at Psych Central. This site will remain accessible, but there will be no new posts and no promotional efforts will be made.

Not Just Business As Usual

At ADHD Man of Distraction, new topics will be covered, and old ones revisited as new information comes to light. Opinion, of course, will be in each post, but not just my opinion, yours is welcome also. And humor will also be a part of this new blog. Without laughter, life would not hold much hope.

Destination: Psych Central!

The new blog will be on a website that has garnered a great deal of respect in the mental health world and on the internet. Psych Central, and its founder, Dr. John Grohol, have become important sources of information on mental health and life. I am both thrilled and honored to be working on this site and with Dr. Grohol and the rest of the Psych Central team of professionals and bloggers. You also may recognize Psych Central as the home of ADHD From A to Zoë, a blog listed prominently in the blog roll here at Tao Of Taylor.

And now, since this is the last post for this blog, and since you’ve all been very good, I’m letting you go early. Take the rest of the day off, but be on time tomorrow morning at ADHD Man of DistrAction, the first post will be up by 7:00am.

… and thanks again,

Taylor

Okay, I know it wasn’t your fault, I know exactly whose fault it was, it was mine!

Me on board the ADDWater!

Two Views

I was angry with myself and upset with the situation. I sat staring at the gas gauge, willing it to rise from the depths of the red zone. It mocked me. Finally I looked up. My boating companion, a veteran of the bay,  was sitting quietly and smiling. “We’re on an adventure.” she said.

Yes, we sure were. Then she told me this was the most peaceful part of the trip so far. I looked around, behind us was the tropical looking island we had circled, to its right its twin and at a distance, their little sister. Off our starboard was the cape that stood guard at one side of the entrance to our home bay and ahead to port was the point that marked the other side. Our suddenly small and insignificant boat sat bobbing and dipping in the middle of all this beauty.

I was hyperfocused on these thoughts: without fuel we were in for a long night; we had no food; and though landfall would occur eventually, it wouldn’t be on a hospitable shore. My mind was in a vicious loop of current situation and obvious fault, I wasn’t in the moment, I was in shackles of my own creation.

Change of Pace

But people knew where we were and what our situation was, and my passenger was cheerful. “When they tell us they can’t help us, then we’ll worry.” she said.

Half full … her glass was clearly half full, and she was drinking it up. Mine was half empty. I never thought of myself as a worrier before. Since my ADHD diagnosis, I recognize it in all I do.

She was right, of course, there was nothing we could do at this time. And she was also right that this was the most peaceful part of the trip. The weak September late afternoon sun was still keeping the light breeze warm and hospitable. And to the north it was even causing lake water to draw into the clouds creating a sun dog, something you rarely see in fair weather.

The air had that clean smell you only experience on or near the water, and the waves, forecast to be two feet, were barely 12 inches. If stopping had been on the itinerary, I could not have found a better, more sheltered spot. I was just about to put on the tea kettle when my phone rang.

I pulled it out of my pocket and answered in a voice much calmer than it would have been if I’d been alone. Help, I was told, would arrive shortly …

… and I thought “Damn!”

“Huh?”

Yep, I thought I’d prefer to bob around there a while longer. I’d been captured by the peace, I felt like I was on vacation from my ADHD, or at least from things that make the symptoms obvious.

As we watched, a boat from one of the islands pulled into view. A red five gallon gas can was emptied into my tank and I was instructed to follow to a dock where a fuel pump was waiting for me.

On the fairway home 30 minutes later, I appreciated my new found calm. I’d borrowed it from a non-ADHDer, but I was enjoying it. And I was driving at a much slower speed now, not to save gas, but to make the trip, that was already in to pleasant overtime, last longer. And we used every bit of daylight left to get home.

Next time out I think I’ll just head for a shallow spot near where we ran out of gas and drop anchor for a few hours, better all around. But I needed this trip to figure that out. I needed it to realize that taking stock is often all a situation needs. Taking stock and less hyperfocus & worry.

Yesterday I was on the bay, one of my favorite pastimes is being on the water. I find I’m not distracted by things that are out of sight and you can’t get more out-of-sight than putting miles of water between you and the distractions, the perfect unseen barrier. This means that on the bay, I am less affected by my ADHD than anywhere else.

Yeah, right!

My ADHD may not be something I’m aware of when I’m on the water, but it is still something that affects me. Though in fairness, yesterday’s faux pas occurred on land. I headed out without giving my gas gauge a second thought. I say second thought because I did give it a first thought, I checked it before we left. But a second thought may have had me stay a little closer to my home dock.

How to Gauge a Gauge

I knew how much fuel I’d put in recently, and I knew how far I’d gone since fuelling up. But I thought we were good, judging by the gauge, and so we went.

The plan was to leisurely cruise around one of the three islands that shelter the entrance to our bay. One of the prettiest islands in our area, it can appear tropical and welcoming even though we’re half way between the equator and the north pole.

At the aphelion of our arc, the gas gauge still read a quarter tank. We puttered around the island watching the scenery slip by and talking about as little as possible in as many words as we could fit in between the breaths of clean sea air. As we curved back towards home I checked the gauge again. Something about it caused me some concern. It seemed to be bouncing, jiggling. Weird!

How to Gauge failure

Before I go on, let me say, it has never been my practice to take a beautiful woman out in any kind of vehicle and run out of fuel. This was very assuredly an accident. One with a happy ending, but one that has once again made me shake my head and ask “If you know who you are, why don’t you pay more attention?” That’s why I have no trouble believing people say negative things about me, I say those things about myself.

“What happened?”

What happened, you ask? Patience grasshopper, I’ll tell you …

… we ran out of gas. Miles from home, and far enough off shore that I couldn’t set a hook (drop anchor), we suddenly sputtered for three seconds and stopped dead in the water, our wake catching up quickly to our transom. I looked at my passenger and she looked at me. The anger on her face was … non-existent. She was smiling. Wait … no, she was laughing. I was blithering out bumbling apologies which only served to make her laugh more. “Relax,” she said, “we’re in sight of land, we have our phones, we have people we can call and there’s plenty of daylight left.” … I tried to calm down.

I made a couple of phone calls and was told that plan “A” was being effected and plan “B” was being held in reserve. I didn’t question the plans, I’d already done enough damage.

Did we get home? Was my passenger still speaking to me? Would my stupidity bring us to a disastrous end? Find out on Wednesday …

I quipped on Twitter once that I had always wanted a designation after my name, but had never dreamt it would be “ADHD!” In retrospect – that’s looking back, something we don’t really do well – maybe that’s not so bad. I’ve heard from friends that they don’t appreciate the way they are interacted with by normans who know they have ADHD. In a post on her own blog, our friend Zoë Kessler talks about at least one negative interaction with someone out in public.

Personally, I want to know if someone’s going to treat me differently because of my ADHD. I’d rather not waste my time discussing matters of importance or mutual interest with someone who thinks my opinion is not valid because of my disorder.

So I’m up front.

I don’t say “Hey, I’m Taylor. I’m ADHD! How are you?” but I work it into the conversation within a few minutes. If the conversation has lasted that long, it has a chance of becoming an interaction of some duration and potential repetition.

I admit that talking to someone repeatedly, convincing them that I have a valid opinion on issues and that my mind is stable enough to be considered functional could be a good idea. I like to think that if someone considers you to be a resource of reasonable intelligence before they find out you have a mental health issue, they may realize that ADHD does not mark someone as being defective, dysfunctional or invalid. I’d like to think that, but I’ve experienced people suddenly doubting their own assessment of me on finding out I have ADHD.

Not what I appear to be

A young man, whose age was in the single digits, looked at me on Saturday and took an instant liking to me. It turned out he was wearing an AC/DC shirt and he thought I was too. His father explained the attraction.

I mistakenly pointed out to dear old dad that my shirt didn’t say AC/DC. He looked closer at my shirt and suddenly mumbled something that sounded like “…oh … I see …” and quickly ushered his son down the street and away from the “bad man.” I laughed at the time, but now I’m worried about the boy and his upbringing. I may have made a mistake in that interaction …

My new business cards

But in the mean time … What kind of degree should I be looking to buy? I know that a B.A.DHD would be the frugal way to go, but the added expense of an M.A.DHD might well be worth the respect I’d then garner. And perhaps I should just plunk down the shekels and go for the ADpHD. I think I could get used to being called Dr. McKinlay.

That’s all for now, we doctors all golf on Wednesdays.

I’ve just finished watching (for the umpteenth time) The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, but this time I was wondering why there was no definitive guide to life with ADHD. Where’s my Hitchhikers Guide with friendly, reassuring printing on the outside cover?

I know, there are books on ADHD that we think of as definitive works, the be all and end all, the “Book of books,” as it were.

There are books that cover ADHD in general, and books that teach specific lessons, lessons on romance: “ADD & Romance” and finance: “ADD and Your Money” and many other aspects of ADHD life. And that’s all well and good to advise us to stay out of trouble, stay out of certain situations, but what about when it’s too late?

Don’t Panic!

And additionally, what about situations over which we have no control? Stress, induced by life, can make our ADHD worse. Damned few of us have the presence of mind to run to our book shelves to look up job loss, bereavement, illness or marital dysfunction in one of our myriad of reference works. Some of these topics aren’t even covered.

Mostly Harmless?

Are we to believe that if a subject isn’t included in our books that it doesn’t matter, that it’s mostly harmless? Or are we just to play it by ear and trust in our instincts to carry us through until someone writes about it?

And those of us who are late to the dance, that is those of us who have been diagnosed late in life, have many years of living life unaware to make up for. We’ve tried to do the right thing without the assistance of the self help library and have probably done many things wrong. To complete the previous metaphor, we’re not only late to the dance, but we’re wearing the wrong shoes.

So, again I ask, where is my guide? Where is my help? Where is the friendly reassuring printing on the outside cover of the self help book I need?

Oh Wait, Here It Is …

I’ll tell you where it is, it’s embedded in the kind words of friends who, like gypsies, band together and support each others quirkiness and understand much of what goes on in each others minds. They also accept the things they don’t understand, just as they know you will accept them. It’s true that no two of us are the same in most respects. But many of us have this in common: we are the ones who will reach out our hand to any one of our own, and pull them back up on their feet, ’cause we know they may have to do that for us as soon as tomorrow.

And sometimes, two or more of us will find each other down and in need, and amazingly, we can still reach out and pick each other up at the same time.

My Weekend Guides

This weekend I was picked up and carried by two people who have just come into my life in the last couple of weeks. Together we revelled in each others uniqueness and leaned on each others strength. We talked and worked and found common ground where we could feel at home, accepted.

And while I am a long way from healed, I’m so much closer than I was four days ago. Friendship is a commodity to be treasured and valued. Friendship is that Hitchhikers Guide to ADHD I’ve been seeking.

Tear Up The Script, The Play Is Over!

Now, sans wife and alone in a very large house, I’m faced with the prospect of a long weekend for which no plans have been made for me.

Seeking Solitude ...

Weekends have been hard enough to handle, though friends and family are always at hand. But this weekend, I’ve sent them all away, so to speak. They all have plans and I’ve assured everyone who has asked that I’ll be alright. My intention is to seek solitude and quiet. To find some of the calm that has left my life and to try to regain the faint glimmerings of focus I had worked so hard to achieve in the last ten months prior to my wife’s passing.

I wrote at length about the effects of stress on my ADHD symptoms in a post titled Spinning Down the Context Sensitive ADHD Road last month and in other notes I’m keeping for future reference. I like to think I’m handling the stress well, but I swear that there have been times when I have had no clue why I’m standing in a doorway, no idea where I’ve come from or what I wanted. Not even an inkling of what to do next. This looks and feels like good old ADHD but it feels like I’ve got enough to go around for a family of eight.

How Bad Can It Get?

I never, since before my diagnosis when ADHD was a faintly unpleasant, evil glimmer in the back of my mind, thought I might say “Give me back MY ADHD, and take this away.” ’cause I never in a million years thought it could get worse.

But it has. And now I’m off to do what I knew I would eventually have to do. I’m off to slay the dragon I’ve acquired, the one that has been riding my back this last six horrible weeks, the one that has turned my ADHD into Uber-ADHD. The heart breaking, gut churning loneliness that has made my life harsh and acidic, turned my head around until I’m dizzy and left me needing my friends and family to hold me up even as I begged them to believe I am fine and have conquered this, is what I need to face down.

A Labour of Self Love

This weekend here in Canada is referred to as Labour Day weekend. Monday, Labour Day, is a holiday. It marks the end of summer holidays and the subsequent return of students to classes.

Every year this weekend makes me long to return with them, my memories of the smell of books and pencils and the quiet buzz of a classroom of children at their studies having been romanticized I’m sure by the complications of adult life. But this year I’ll be longing instead to return to the life I knew just 12 short months ago. Was it perfect? Never. Were there problems? Always. Was it this painful, this confused and confusing, this distracting, this devastating? Never.

So I will be labouring this weekend. I’ll be working on my own well being. Will I succeed in finding some measure of peace? Stay tuned, I’ll report back on Tuesday … or maybe Wednesday.

They Want Whose Opinion?

Yes, I’m a pole-ster. I get a dollar for each survey, and I do one or two a month. I won’t be retiring anytime soon, but I enjoy the idea that my opinion is being used in a constructive way.

Full Disclosure

… and I haven’t told them I have ADHD. Not that I wouldn’t tell them, I figure if they don’t know, TDB. But I don’t think it’s skewing their results, after all, we are purported to be of higher than average intelligence.

And hell, if there was space on a survey for random thoughts, I’d have probably blurted out my ADHD status, Jasper/Goldberg score and blog site address long ago.

Speaking of Space – Get on with it Taylor …

As a direct result of doing surveys, I ended up being invited to join – are you ready for this? – a focus group!

What a disappointment. Turns out it wasn’t to teach me to focus, they assumed I already knew that. They wanted my opinion on a rather large corporate entity that permeates every aspect of life in Ontario, Canada. They wanted open discussion among eight randomly selected persons who were, presumably, educated enough to use a computer and answer questions. Ha!

There should have been a survey first!

I think things may have gone better for them if they had asked a few simple questions before accepting me into the group … “Do you have any issues with attention?”, “Are you compelled to comment on the bling (shiiiii – ny) on the sandals being worn by the woman sitting next to you?”, “Can you stay on topic long enough to respond to a request for ‘One word that sums up your feelings about XYZ Corp.’?” …

Well, actually it went better than I thought it would. I was drawn to the event by the promise of money in exchange for my time. When they asked if I had any trouble speaking up in a group I was really excited – the trick, as I told the recruiter, is to get me to shut up. It wasn’t until I climbed off my bike and stepped through the front door of the venue where this focus group was being held that it occurred to me to wonder if they were ready for my kind of focus.

In fairness, the subject of this event is one I am constantly tracking and I am reasonably up to date on issues surrounding this particular company’s responsibilities. But Kendall (not his real name … I don’t think, I wasn’t really paying attention), the “Rob Lowe” look-a-like that was running the group, still had to rein me in a couple of times. And while I’m pretty sure the guy sitting next to me may be the perfect candidate for the “Undiagnosed ADHDer of the Year” award, I know that I too was a bit troublesome for the group.

When it was over, the door was opened and the focus spilled out of the room and scattered to the street. Kendall/Rob approached me and thanked me for bringing my perspective to the group. He told me he had appreciated that perspective and my ability to communicate. He may have said more, but I was watching the bling on the sandals as they left the room – my focus was lost. He shouldn’t have opened the door.

I know, it’s in my nature, I know it’s ADHD. I know that I’m being distracted from the thing that distracted me from the thing that distracted me [... ad nauseam ] from the thing that I started to do when I got up this morning, right? Yes, but I’m noticing that it’s worse than it’s ever been.

When my mother passed away, I noticed that I was having issues concentrating, that was before my ADHD diagnosis. But my wife was there to keep me on track.

Now, I’ve lost my wife. I’m off track, out of the train yard, and heading overland. I’m caught in whatever rut that will hold my wheels for a minute or two before I veer off in another direction. In short, I’m lost.

I swear there have been days when my best is having gotten up and gotten back to bed at the end of the day.

ADHD is context driven. Stress will make our symptoms worse, but how much worse can they get? If I’d been told, in the past, that I could be this scattered – I’d have laughed. Now the truth, along with my loss, has me crying.

So knowing that there is a context sensitivity, and knowing full well that I have not taken the Jasper/Goldberg Adult ADHD Questionnaire in many months (little chance of my remembering the answers I’d given back in September of 2010) I went back to the site.

Jasper/Goldberg Adult ADHD Questionnaire

I took the questionnaire again just out of curiosity … in the past, when I was in denial of my ADHD I would score between 68 and 78 (70 and up is full blown Adult ADHD). Once resigned to the idea that I needed to know the truth I found that I scored between 88 and 92 depending on the day I was having. That’s an average, obviously, of 90.

Today is Monday, August 22^nd, exactly one month since my wife passed away. I’ve retaken the test and I’ve scored an alarming 106 out of a possible 119 (answering every question with a “Very much” answer).

I’d like also to add here, that the first true scores, the 88 to 92 scores, were achieved without medication. My medication has helped me concentrate and focus well enough that I am considering, and doing, projects that I would not have attempted in the past. My latest score is under stress and on medication.

If this isn’t proof that ADHD is context driven, I can’t begin to tell you what proof would look like. Any thoughts?

I believe that if I write about these things, I may be able to move forward in my grieving. Unfortunately, whenever I try to write about them, I’m unable to maintain a topic and unable to stick to a theme. And I’m unable to stop writing. I create long, drawn out and rambling soliloquies that quickly reveal themselves to have no set direction and no end in sight.

That’s okay for now, it’s what I need to do. But it doesn’t get a post up on the blog.

Last week’s two entries were weak, I’d love to take them down, but they stand as a reminder of what loss, stress and pain can do to the ADHD mind. And they are about my friend Elaine and her wonderful art, and that makes them good. They are only weak in their connection to this blog’s overall topic of ADHD

And this post is the result of hours of thought about how to focus on one aspect of what is happening to me. Fitting that I should tackle my writing as my first real topic to write about after revealing to you the damage that my life has suffered.

I assure you, there are posts coming. I guarantee you that they will be regular and consistent. But it may take awhile before I’m back … completely back. I have some funny things I want to tell you, but now seems like the wrong time. I’m sure my delivery will be better in future days. I also have some new and exciting research that I’ve uncovered.

And I’ll be looking for new revelations in my life to share with you when this life of mine gets back on track (or back to switching tracks at the normal pace). And I have some book reviews for you as well, one of them is on a book by our friend Linda Roggli of the ADDiva Network. That book is titled Confessions of an ADDiva. I’ll confess what’s good about this book. My copy is worn and dogeared … or it would be if it weren’t an E-copy in .pdf format … yes you can get it for your E-reader.

But for now, I’m just telling you that my life has been turned upside down, I’ve lost my executive function at the time when I need her the most, the time when I have to deal with the overly scattered mind that such a loss creates. Keep me in your thoughts, I’m going to need all the help I can gather to me. Those of you who pray, ask for safe passage for those who have begun the next part of the journey.

Those of you who are looking for insights into the effects of stress on ADHD, I’m sure I’ll have lots of those in the weeks and months to come.

Lastly, I apologize for the scattered mess that this blog will likely be for the next little while.

Sorry,

Taylor.

It's a "Good Morning" every morning in my office "Good Morning" by Elaine Doy in centre "Pulse" by Elaine Doy on left

My friend, Elaine Doy (mentioned in Monday’s post), is a “painter extraordinaire” and her work thrills me. But I was not surprised to learn that she is often unhappy with her work while she’s working on it. She says she starts to paint and then takes a look at what she’s done and despairs of it ever being what she wants it to be. I’m personally pleased that she perseveres.

Focus and Interpretation

"Good Morning" by Elaine Doy

Elaine paints what she sees, but I can tell you that she sees as much with her heart and her soul as she does with her eyes. On a recent ride around Cape Commodore she spent much of her time drinking in the bluffs and bay vistas, and commenting on the beauty there.

So why am I Telling You About her?

"Pulse" by Elaine Doy

Elaine does not have ADHD. But she does have an uncanny ability to find beauty in everything she sees. I’ve written about my photography of textures. I can often take a photo of something that fascinates me only to have it turn out to be bland and unappealing. Elaine’s job, like photography, is the work of capturing the beauty that is before her. But she has an advantage, she can highlight and augment her art to showcase the beauty she sees. This is not an unfair advantage over photography, those of us who use cameras do so simply because we cannot render with our hands the beauty that is before us. Our advantage, our highlighting and augmenting is done by framing the subject, selecting the aperture & focus and, if needed, supporting existing lighting with one or more flashes.

Still no Connection To ADHD?

Elaine Doy in front of some of her work at a showing in Lion's Head, Ontario

When I look at Elaine’s work, I’m immediately reminded of the many times I’ve hyper-focused on some spectacle. And of the many times I’ve tried to photograph that spectacle and failed. I’m not reminded because Elaine fails at it, but because she succeeds. And I am thankful that she was the one who saw what she has painted and not I, for I would have left with only a photograph that ended up in an album on my shelf. Elaine leaves such sights with a mind full of beauty that she lets spill onto the canvass. And lucky me, I get to hang some of that beauty on my walls.

And then I get to hyperfocus on it to my hearts content. That is the ADHD connection, and it is to my benefit. Thank you, Elaine.