I Suck!
Staying On Track, The Struggle Is Real
It’s been a life struggle. Staying on track. It doesn’t matter what the track is; I’m nowhere near it. I get lost. People joke
“Squirrel!”
“Where?”
Squirrel is everything but the task at hand. Me cleaning house, take a look at one of the Family Circus cartoons in the Sunday paper.
Is that cartoon still being produced?
Anyway, I’m Billy. I start in the kitchen, wiping the counters but then see there is a book that my son left on the counter.
I take the book to his room, but on the way, I notice that I left a pair of shoes by the recliner, so I pick up the shoes. I drop my son's book on the recliner because why not.
I head to my room with my shoes. On the way to my closet, I pass through my bathroom, toss my shoes and brush my hair. I see the bathtub and proceed to wipe it down.
I'm not too fond of this bathtub; it's prominent and never used. We need to remodel the bathroom and remove this tub. I grab the cleaning supplies from the linen closet. I take a moment to check what supplies we need to pick up when I go to the store. I reach for my phone only to discover I don’t have it.
Hmmm, what did I do with my phone? I begin to backtrack my steps. Living room? No. My son’s room? No. The dryer beeps; I remove the clothes from the dryer and take them to my room.
I start folding when I see I still have clothes in the hamper to wash but need to move clothes from the washer to the dryer. I switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer.
I pass by the kitchen on the way back to my room to finish folding clothes when I realize I never finished cleaning the kitchen. I veer off to the kitchen to pick up where I left off. I see the grill probes.
I should grill some steaks for dinner with some corn on the cob. Corn on the cob is always a good idea.
I grab my keys and tell my husband I’m off to the store to pick up steaks, corn, and potatoes for dinner. He should text me anything else he thinks I should pick up.
When I return home, my husband unloads the groceries and asks whether I picked up the diet soda he texted me to pick up.
I reach for my phone in my purse. Nope. In my pocket? Nope. I never had my phone with me. It’s lying on the counter where I set it when I began cleaning the kitchen this morning.
I look at him, “I’ll be right back.”
He smiles, “Nope, I got this. You get the steaks ready for the grill.”
I check my watch. Yes, it is dinner time. Looking around, a sense of dread overcomes me. I sink onto the couch. I knew everything I wanted to accomplish today but got nothing done. I suck.
What is wrong with me?
My entire life described — me trying earnestly to stay focused. Stay on track. Apply yourself. No, my grades were not dumpster fire; they were just average. And if I’m being candid with myself, they could have been a lot better. I always told myself I was bored; that’s why I couldn’t focus on reading the assigned chapter. I know this is a celebration for some people, but people like me not so much.
There are times I space out when people are talking to me. I’m not thinking of something else; I don’t hear the words or sentences they are saying. I mean, I listen to them, but they are just sounds.
So I’m not paying attention. No, I’m paying attention, at least I want to. I know it sounds bizarre to some; I’m getting antsy unless the speaker gets to the point early. My brain will not let me focus for more than a few minutes.
A conversation with my husband is excruciating on most days. He includes can’t summarize what happened at work. I mean, he provides the technical details. Look, I’m technical in the database realm, and he’s networking. I get it; he thinks I want the technical details I don’t. Word of warning, many technical people want to spew the details that most people don’t hear. It makes the stories too long. I end up missing the point of the story and agree with him.
I’ve lived with people telling me all sorts of things:
You need to focus.
You aren’t applying yourself.
Stay on task and stop being lazy.
You would lose your head if it weren’t attached.
Get organized. How can you work with a cluttered desk?
Your notes are random thoughts.
You dye your hair brunette to get respect.
And many more. It doesn’t matter how hard I would try. I couldn’t just focus. I couldn’t just get organized and stay organized. I couldn’t just stay on task. I couldn’t just learn to take notes effectively. Over the years, I developed hacks. Yes, I fake it. Yes, I believe the pressure to beat the clock for a deadline is a motivator and something that I need. I wish I didn’t, but I do.
But it’s all exhausting. I don’t think anyone who has the same characteristics as me realizes how exhausting living like this is. So what the hell is wrong with me. Why can’t I learn to focus?
It hasn’t been easy. Yes, I know people have much bigger problems, but being flighty, unfocused, unorganized, and unable to remember things has been expensive in the long run. It is missed bills, low credit ratings, bad health, or even missed promotions at work.
And then there are the friends who never became your friend because you never returned their texts or calls. Or they believed you didn’t find them attractive because you didn’t engage with them.
When I’ve brought any of my concerns to my physician, I will get the same responses.
That’s just who you are.
You need to learn to focus and stop being lazy.
It happens when you are pregnant.
It’s like that when you have kids pulling you in different directions.
It’s like that when you get older.
And it’s not even like they listened to my concerns. Even today, the doctor seems interested in the anxiety and depression portions of mental health but glosses over the other problems I have. No matter how many times I’ve told her, I’m only anxious at night because of all the things I can’t seem to concentrate on to get done. And now I have this deadline.
Maybe I would have anxiety if we could fix or control what is leading to the anxiety? I may not be a doctor, but in IT, we call root cause analysis.
But here I am at 56. I’m still struggling with the same issues. Perhaps if my life were blowing up, people would take me seriously. Maybe I’ve faked it well enough that people don’t see what is happening underneath.
So I ask, What the hell is wrong with me? Because I don’t suck.
Hyperfixating
How do I know I don’t suck? Well, I genuinely care for people. I want them to do well, be well, and succeed. I want them to reach their highest dreams. I do, but I have my problems I’m trying to manage because my brain doesn’t want to cooperate with what I want. My brain is making things more complicated than they need to be.
I also know I don’t suck because I’m damn good at my job. Especially performance tuning a database. Sucked into rabbit holes of performance issues. Sleepless nights spent in search of answers. The more complex the problem, the stronger the sensation. That rush.
Not only on my job, but when I read certain books, there is no stopping me. I can read 2 to 3 books a week. And I did for 44 weeks straight. But now, when I pick up a book, I spend every few seconds looking at how many pages I have left from the chapter to the end of the book. I even tried a Kindle. It gives you the page count or percentage you chose, but nope I haven’t picked up a book and read for more than 5 minutes in 3 months. I love to read! Why can I not get into any books?
I was on the Beachbody binge working out six days a week. The success I achieved at losing weight and being fit was amazing. But it is all I did for months and even years. Three, to be exact.
All these times, I hyper-fixated on tasks, so I must be able to focus. It’s not the same as concentrating all the time. When I get hyper-fixated, I’m in a zone, much like an athlete tuning out the crowd. It’s just me and the task at hand.
But it doesn’t work for all tasks. I can’t explain why and it doesn’t happen for the same task all the time. How do I know? I love to sew. I created all kinds of shirts and outfits, but then it stopped. I now have a pile of UFOs — unfinished objects—two storage bins filled with unused material.
It stands to reason if I can do it once, I should be able to repeat the process. How do I get focused? I don’t know even how I got hyper-fixated.
People I know don’t understand me. They roll their eyes when I say I will do something because they know; I’m flighty, spacey, forgetful.
So I ask again, what is wrong with me?
ADHD
I’m not a fan of searching the internet for an answer to medical questions. I mean, after diagnosis. I don’t particularly appreciate when people tell me how to do my job so that I will respect the doctors.
But I believe that when you have had the same question for decades without any answers from doctors, it is time to do some research. This way, I can have a more detailed discussion with the doctor.
What I’ve found is I more than likely have ADHD. That’s right, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. I know, right? That’s something that’s in kids, not adults. It couldn’t possibly be me.
The assessments and check of symptoms were spot on.
Bottom line, my brain isn’t wired like others. I had fallen into the same trap as others who told me that I just needed to focus. I was the wrong person.
When I was growing up, ADHD wasn’t something that they looked at for a child unless they had other types of behavior or learning issues. ADHD was for kids who misbehaved. I was a model student for behavior; I didn’t do my homework.
When my boys were little, a doctor once told me I needed to get my oldest tested for ADHD because he was “all over the place,” her words. I was offended. He was being a kid racing his hot wheel car around the exam room. That’s what 4-year-olds do.
No teacher ever brought it to my attention, even later with him or my youngest son.
A few weeks ago, I shared what I discovered with my youngest son. We have had a running joke in our family about memory issues. My mom, I, and he seems to have the same characteristics.
Then he said, “I get called out at work for being ADHD.” I was confused. He was never diagnosed. He took it upon himself and did get diagnosed.
Now the guilt set in. All these years, my son could have gotten help. He could have struggled less. But I didn’t understand enough to get him the help because I misunderstood myself.
Not Looking For Medication
The more we know about ourselves and the way our bodies function, especially the mind, the better lives we can lead. I want to see whether I am ADHD because I know through menopause and beyond, the struggles will change. With hormone drops, memory and other emotions will come into play. How will menopause be impacted? What about retirement?
My hacks today may not be the hacks that work tomorrow. Or maybe I can develop better hacks.
I’m not interested in medication. I’m not a fan of drugs overall unless needed. Toss in my high blood pressure and stimulants would do more harm than good. Stimulants are one of the kinds of meds prescribed for ADHD, especially in children.
What I am interested in is understanding and developing a sense of truth. Gaining more understanding will allow me to find the tools I need. The more I learn about ADHD, the more women I meet who have had the same struggle. My community linked by the same struggles.
How many others?
How many of you can relate? Will you seek a diagnosis or continue?
