Ablution Performance 101

Simple hygiene is sometimes beyond ADHD ability

Life in the Fast Brain | posted by Kristen Caven

I have this amazing girlfriend, whom I shall call Gladiolus. We met in kindergarten and became close friends in high school when we agreed that one shouldn’t wear plastic in one’s hair. (It was the ’80s.) She has a delightful sense of humor and a fully engaged mind. Over the years, we have assembled a group of delightful, engaged human beings around us, and we have, as mothers, made some more.

Whenever I travel to her house for a visit, I am in awe of her bathing sensibilities. Her various bathrooms are always clean and appointed not only with soothing colors but interesting and uncluttered arrangements of vials and doo-dahs, all of which, upon closer inspection, have interesting and meaningful and beautiful things on the labels, including organic ingredients, funny sayings, deep thoughts, or comic insights.

Gwendolyn’s bathrooms reveal the orderly thinking of a composed mind. The steps of her ablution are evident in the accessories: matching shampoo and conditioner, milled soap inside a loofa, and a neatly hung razor under a mirror in the shower. The products make it clear what one’s shower tasks are, without any distractions. Around her bathtub, beautiful containers full of scented bath products and sample packets are artfully arranged near neatly stacked jars of salt and sugar scrubs and a wooden bristle brush. All of these are emblems of her personal motto, which you find in the signature of her emails: “Be well, find joy, and exfoliate.”

Yet for all this attention to little luxuries (a bath at her house will take me hours, because I have to open every jar and smell every product), Genevieve can prepare herself in minutes flat and be ready for the day. Her ritual takes her into the bathroom for short dips between making food and getting dressed. By 7 a.m. the dogs are walked, breakfast is ready, her eyebrows and jewelry are on, and all she needs to do is take out the hot curlers and put on her shoes.

These are the thoughts that run through my head as I get out of the shower at her house and rummage under the sink for a towel. She showed me where they were when I came in, but doing things in the right order is never my strong suit; I put foundation on my face as an afterthought. I am grateful for the feminine culture we’ve shared over the years; my own ablution performance went from a loathsome childhood routine to a pursuit of pampering and rituals of self-care.

Gwyneth and I raised sons together. We both provided them with soap and toothpaste and the things boys need to grab in the shower. I tried for years to impart the “5 things” bath/shower routine that took me 34 years to come up with (shampoo, condition, wash face, shave legs, and I know there was a fifth thing, oh yeah, soap up the armpits) to Enzo, but the bottle of teenage cleanser never got any emptier, even when he swore he’d washed his face. I learned to consider it a triumph that he remembers to brush his teeth nightly and flosses when told.

At 18, though, he really does smell nice. He has finally found an ablution routine that makes his brain click. I have to give Old Spice credit for manufacturing creative, funny matching shampoo and deodorant flavors for young men. And I have to give Gardenia credit, too: It was her son who turned Enzo on to “scent layering,” a new fashion frontier for boys.

Kristen Caven is a mother and a writer, a mover and a shaker, and a creative force in her community. To her, ADHD stands for “Awesomeness Development & Happiness Directive.” Learn more at www.kristencaven.com.

The Secret ADHD Test for Your Friends

Are your friends blessed with the Awesomeness Development & Happiness Directive? How do you tell? How do you tell them? And how can you help?

Life in the Fast Brain | posted by Kristen Caven

OK, parents, raise your hand if you have a friend who’s got a kid who is, you know, all those special things ADHD kids are, and of course so is your friend (which is probably why she is your friend, because you like the interesting ones), and you don’t exactly feel like you can say to her, “I bet you have ADHD,” because she is just like you were: She held things together.

You don’t exactly feel like you can say to her, “I bet you have ADHD,” because she is just like you were: She held things together.

— Kristen Caven

What will probably happen, though, is that by 9th or 10th grade she will be baffled by the fact her brilliant child is failing, and she will go through the same agonizing diagnostic process you did with your kid, and then find out she is in Holland, so to speak, and then go get herself figured out as well, just like you did. And then you will have another ADHD buddy!

But. You have ADHD and it’s really hard to be patient, and you hate to see your friend struggle like you did, and you want to blurt things out.

So. If you are one of the readers who raised your hand in the first paragraph, maybe you will like this secret test you can use on the sly. It’s much less confusing than the clinical tests, which ask you all sorts of irrelevant things.

1. Do you have an amazing ability to focus? Do you have an amazing intelligence that can power through a problem? Do you give things 1000%?

2. Are you happy in a highly stimulating environment where you can switch your intense focus from one person to the next, or one thing to the next? Do you feel alive when people or things are coming at you and you are connecting with each one and moving it on its way? Like at parties, in sports, or in jobs where things are never dull?

3. But you also get spaced out or overwhelmed, too?

4. Do you miss appointments sometimes? Or show up really late? (I know you do, because it’s happened to me.)

5. Is reading hard sometimes? Do you start reading and get distracted? Would you rather skim and surf and text?

6. Do you hate following directions; you’d rather figure it out on your own?

7. When you are done with one thing and into another, does that first thing fall off your radar?

8. Do you feel like a superhero sometimes? Do you think of others as mere mortals, sometimes, when you recognize how unusual these skills are? Do other people see this and think you are amazing? Or do other people find you incredibly annoying?

9. Do you have powers of observation that others don’t? Does your associative mind make you see all angles that others are missing?

10. Do people sometimes think you are a jerk? In spite of the fact you are so awesome?

11. Are you a notoriously bad sleeper?

12. Are you allergic to paperwork?

13. In yoga class, does your mind just keep clicking along when you are in savasana? Do you get your best thinking done when you’re supposed to be doing something else? Like, um, going to sleep? Do you work things out in your mind while having sex?

14. On the computer, do you work best when you have five programs running? Can you pull together a meal easily with four pots on the fire? Are you a brilliant networker, get-it-don-er, or social media natural, even though your links don't always work? Do you have more than one best friend?

15. Do you have those days when dropping one ball causes a domino effect? Or those days when you just can’t seem to get in the flow? When your mind is skipping like a scratched record or CD? Do you have those days when everything you try to do requires you to do three things first? Do you sometimes find yourself going in circles?

Now, when you are slyly administering this test, maybe one question at a time, your friend will think nothing of it, because that’s just who she is. After a while, if she answers yes to most of them, you can pretend to suddenly discover this blog and send her the link.

And at the bottom of this blog there is a link to a “real” ADHD test. And then you can teach them the secret handshake!

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Coach Me If I Fall…

Yes! You should get a coach! Or two! Or three!

Life in the Fast Brain | posted by Kristen Caven

I got the greatest letter from a reader the other day:

The ADHD mind needs an adrenaline rush to be productive.

—Dr. Greg Devore

I read your articles on ADDitudemag.com and what you wrote REALLY resonated with me. My question is did you find a solution or help to manage life (especially your business)? I feel like I need help of some kind–a business coach or an ADD coach–something. But don't have a way to choose one from all the MILLIONS of options.

This is such a great question, and one so central to my life, that I felt it deserved an entire blog post. Or two. Or twelve. But let’s start with one, let me try to drill down to the crunchy center of this question: Do I need a coach?

Looking back over the years, I realize that I have always worked best when I have some sort of coaching going on, by any other name. In college it was a weekly meeting with my adviser. At certain points in my adult life, it’s been a mentor, a writing partner, a class, a therapist, or a healer of some sort or another—the key being someone who would pay attention to what was going on with ME on a regular basis and thus get me to pay attention to myself. Sometimes it was working through a book that resonated with me. The best help I ever got, though, was a coach I found through SCORE who specialized in artists.

I found Martha Zlatar (ArtMatch) serendipitously—someone at my church was raving about how she really understood the nature of the art business. When I met her, she explained to me that artists are unlike other business people in that they really need to feel emotionally connected to the work they do. (Does that ring any bells? Like the ADHD Interest-Driven Mind?)

Over the years, Martha has helped me break down the many swirling tasks in my life. My actions got more powerful when I learned how to direct my attention with more intention. She’s helped and encouraged me come up with systems that work for me—like my “Me Mondays” and “Finance Fridays” checklists.

Having a coach has been incredibly helpful in the accomplishing-things department. However, there are challenges and impulses that come with ADD that can undermine good goal-setting and achievement; it helps to understand what they are. For me, my strength is also my weakness.

The ADHD mind, says Kaiser’s Dr. Greg Devore, needs an adrenaline rush to be productive, which is why we add extra stress to our lives. A neurotypical person, when they have too much on their plate, will say no thanks to a new opportunity or impulse, and take things off of their calendar. When I have too much on my plate, however, I tend to take on more. I recently realized that keeping “too busy” helps me get things done. The stress of having at least two more things on my to-do list than I actually have the bandwidth for creates the pressure my brain needs in order to feel motivated. And even though I fail at some things, I can, with this superpower, accomplish so much more than other mortals.

Another thing I now know about myself is that I have to switch things up. I used to feel bad that I couldn’t sustain a system I’d a) paid good money for or b) loved a year ago. But once I realized I need novelty in order to keep my attention, I was able to build creativity into my self-management systems. (For example, I now keep a Google calendar AND a notebook where I doodle around my to-do lists.)

Arianne Benefit, the coach who wrote about the creative temperament and ADHDunderstands this tension, identifying the “sweet spot” that gets you into the flow. (Hint: it’s between your comfort zone and the danger zone.) She can help her (Agilizen) clients figure out where their strengths are. And working from your strengths is always the way to success.

Whether you hire someone (follow your intuition and don’t over-think it; pick someone, get what you can, and switch to someone else if it doesn’t work), get help from a family member or friend (find a book or online system to guide you), or co-coach a colleague—I say go for it! Coaching is essential to those of us blessed with extra-distractibility. Our minds are powerful things—and good coaches remind us that we’re the boss of them!

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"You’re Not ADD (Part 2): You’re Befuddled"

My daily routines were knocked off kilter by a head injury that lingered — revealing how much I relied on structure to cope with attention deficit.
Life in the Fast Brain | posted by Kristen Caven

When the Mini Cooper left an imprint of its license plate in the bumper of my Prius, the insurance company said it was still a low-speed accident, and I couldn’t really be that hurt. Even my doctor dismissed the possibility of a concussion, despite that bang my headrest gave me on the back of my head, messing up my upper neck pretty good.

Suddenly, my life was capital-D Disordered, and I could see how inherently un-regulated I was without my usual structures.

Three weeks later, Enzo was diagnosed with ADD, and my immersion into this new world began. I began recognizing the tell-tale patterns of ADHD in my own psyche that had been there all along. At the time, however, they were confuddled with the symptoms of Post-Concussion Syndrome (PCS) that I was experiencing.

PCS is a lingering condition that arises when a concussion doesn’t heal. At the time of the accident, I had been in the final throes of polishing the manuscript of The Bullying Antidote and going a mile-a-minute preparing for the next project, trying to figure out the bad report cards, and grieving from the sudden death of a dear auntie. Rest, schmest. The stress of life didn’t stop — bills to pay, food to make — but I could no longer stay in control of my time. I would have a few good days a week and then the wheels would fall off. I struggled to keep teaching my Zumba classes; exercise keeps me focused and productive like nothing else.

Symptoms of PCS include attention deficit, impulsivity, irritability, a low frustration threshold, mood swings, memory problems, impaired planning, communication difficulties, socially inappropriate behaviors, self-centeredness, and a lack of insight, concrete thinking, and poor self-awareness. (Sound familiar?) Another thing that happens with a concussion is your blood pressure can go haywire, since an injured brain can’t regulate things as well. When I realized exercise was bringing on symptoms, I had to give up my daily sweat.

With the dull ache in my head, all of my other stabilizing structures became more difficult, too:Meditation would just put me to sleep; I couldn’t remember to take my herbs and vitamins; and I didn’t have the energy for my organizing routines. With caffeine off-limits, I couldn’t reach for a cup of focus.

Episodes of inattention began to mess up my life in big ways — like the time I didn’t go through all the steps properly when moving into my new computer, and lost my data when the robbers (yes, there was a break-in, too) dropped it on the way out.

Suddenly, my life was capital-D Disordered, and I could see how inherently un-regulated I was without my usual structures. I realized I had been living (somewhat successfully) with undiagnosed ADD all my life...but I couldn’t get the help I needed until my head had fully healed. Every medical professional I approached diagnosed me with capital-A Anxiety, which I most certainly was suffering, due to the not-raining-but-pouring challenges in my life.

Now that it’s all behind me (PCS sufferers, have hope!) I see what a valuable experience I had. I have so much more understanding and compassion for head injury now. The hardest part about a brain injury is that you can’t put your head in a cast, so people can’t see that you’re injured. Like mental illness, it’s “all in your head.” You can’t function like a normal human being, and you feel invisible and misunderstood.

I ended up doing eight months of counseling about feeling invisible and misunderstood. It was good to have somewhere to go and cry once a week, but my therapist could not really see or understand the ADHD connection beyond the trauma in my addled brain.

Like Son, Like Mother?

No need to wonder where my son's attention issues came from. This apple fell from my tree.

"He definitely has attention issues, but he doesn't have ADD."

This is what the social worker told me after evaluating Enzo's questionnaires, filled out by myself, himself, his dad, and two teachers (one of whom gave him the label of "high priest in the church of no homework," whose class he barely passed).

Discussing all the problems and pitfalls, it was like watching my own childhood being replayed, and even my life now.

After all, said the clinical expert, he's well-socialized, he can sit still (sometimes for hours on end), and has a good opinion of himself. Of the five matrices that determine ADHD, he scored normal in four of them — but was way off the charts with attention issues. That was after the first report card of ninth grade, where in two years his 4.0 had dropped under a 3.0.

When his first report card of tenth grade appeared, Enzo's GPA had slipped considerably below a 2.0. Now we were desperate for some sort of help, or even just some insight, or a referral to another idea.

I went back to Kaiser and stormed the castle. "So, what do we do about attention issues, for goodness sake? How can I help my child?" The guy gave Enzo one more test, this one on a computer — why they didn't just do that in the first place, I don't know — and voilà: a full-blown case of ADD-PI. All of a sudden, the gates of support opened wide.

Within a few weeks, we were in the embrace of what I call Kaiser's ADHD School. I took a series of classes on learning disabilities, parenting practices, and coping skills. We learned about medications and chose one to try. Every week, Enzo and I attended a Teen Group with break-out sessions for parents to ask questions like, "What's with the lying thing?" "How can we stop fighting over homework?" and "Where did he get it from?"

Lightbulbs were going off like crazy in my own head about that one. Discussing all the problems and pitfalls, it was like watching my own childhood being replayed, and even my life now. (I don't have a GPA, but for all my cleverness, I do have a pretty unimpressive AGI.) I had to bite my tongue to keep the conversation on the kids.

I called Adult Psych to explore the possibility that I might also have ADHD. It felt like I could have taught the introductory workshop. I read Driven to Distraction and recognized myself on every page. I took the Kaiser tests...and guess what they told me?

"You definitely have attention issues, but you don't have ADD."

Electronic Attention Suckers

Every family struggles with ways to manage this generation’s darn distracting devices. Here’s our best trick for keeping video games from taking over our son's life.

When we got Enzo his first handheld video game, he was too young in my opinion, but still much older than most kids these days are when they are handed their first Electronic Attention Sucker (E.A.S.). We had held off as long as we could for several reasons:

My husband still teases me about my 1996 Mardi Gras Tetris-and-chocolate-cake-binge.

1. He had plenty of toys already that he could never find enough time for: Legos, paper airplanes, and, um, trains.

2. He already didn’t spend enough time outside, and every minute you are in front of a screen is a minute you could be spending doing something usefully dangerous—like building forts, or burning things with magnifying glasses.

3. We knew the power of a screen to suck away one’s life force.

Because it had happened to us. My husband, who I shall call “Dave” in this blog, has for years made a daily hour or two of collecting rings, battling bad guys, or building civilizations part of his life. And “Dave” still teases me about my 1996 Mardi Gras Tetris-and-chocolate-cake-binge before I gave both up for Lent.

It had also happened to people we care about. Enzo’s talented Uncle Art, for example, lost four years of his adult life gaming in every free moment before he chose to spend every possible moment painting and building a career.

The thing is, video games are actually designed for addiction. The tasks are stimulating and challenging. There is always a level to beat, and when you beat it, your reward is to start another level. There is no such thing as a game that will come to a satisfying end just before dinner time. Even game creators are now realizing they have done damage to childhood, and telling kids to go outside more.

It was only fair that Enzo would get his own Electronic Attention Suckers though. We did not want to deprive him of the adrenaline and dopamine-fueled pleasures of his generation. But before we let him put his twitching thumbs on the thing, we set up a Video Game Agreement that said things like he could play age-appropriate games for two hours on a weekend, if he asked first, and so forth. The deal was: if he couldn’t play by the rules, he would have to turn the game off, period.

The best rule on the list was this one, an idea from a friend: When we call your name, you need to pause and look up. The fact that he would lose privileges for 24 hours if he did not hear us and respond motivated him learn how to shift his attention gears, make good eye contact, and mind his manners — all things that can be incredibly difficult for hyperfocused ADDers. But the immediate reward of getting more dopamine helped train his brain in a good way.

View post on ADDitude.

Life Is Derpful

There's so much going on in my son's teenage brain! Is it ADHD, or just high school?

After spending a weekend catching Enzo lost in one screen or another, calling him over and over to come to dinner, reminding him four times to pick up his towels, and nudging and poking him to complete the tasks on his whiteboard, I get a text Monday morning. “Blindsided by binder check in Chem.”

Blindsided? How so? It was right there on the whiteboard: Go over Chem homework calendar. It says Binder Check right on the date in question. I flip through his planner to see that he wrote the same thing months ago (with me supervising)...but the pages have not been turned since.

I sigh and stop and think. His teacher has explained it’s better to get an F than a zero, and busy, busy Enzo needs every point he can get to pass this class. I turn away from my work and look at my schedule, wondering whether or not to rescue. I try not to do that, and I usually don’t have to, but lately he’s been more distractible. Some might call it...puberty. There is so much more going on in that brain. And so much more that is expected of tenth-graders than there was of ninth-graders...or fifth-graders. But the problems have always been the same.

“You should be able to keep track of your things,” his father says on days like this, a teacher who knows his developmental benchmarks, plus has high expectations of his verbal, clever son.

“You know better than that,” I never say — I bite my tongue instead — but he does, and I know that because he rocks it once in a while.

“We’ve already covered that material,” says every single teacher.

It’s hard for adults — or anyone on the "outside" of his brain — to remember he’s got that switch that shuts on and off randomly. “I’m sorry,” says Enzo, over and over again.

I changed my plans for the day so I could swing by the school with his binder. On my way there, I got a text from him that read, “Brown changed binder check to Wednesday.” I sighed and wondered, is it ADHD? Or just having a teenager?

Later that day, Enzo explained it this way to his ADHD Teen class: “Sometimes life feels like a series of cluster-derps.” At least he got a laugh!

Squeedle!!!

How I discovered my son’s distraction reflex is part of a hunter’s nature. Or a golden retriever’s.

A few summers ago we were on a road trip down south. The highway stretched out before us, cruise-control was on, and my husband and I were three-deep into our game of “top five Bruce Springsteen songs.” Suddenly there was a shout from the back seat, where we thought our tween son had dozed off with his nose in a Foxtrot collection.

The World's Most Precious Resource

A wonderful thing happened last year. I got a contract to write a book: a payment up front, a year to write it, an editor, a marketing team — the works. I write with my mother, a community psychologist and positive parenting guru — so I hit the ground running when I started my mothering career fifteen years ago.