People without ADHD often assume we struggle because life is hard.
That's adorable.
Life isn't the problem.
Living is the problem.
Need me to build a business?
Absolutely.
Write a book?
Done.
Speak in front of hundreds of people?
Let's go.
Research something for twelve straight hours?
Don't threaten me with a good time.
Need me to remember we're out of paper towels?
...
I'm going to need you to lower your expectations.
I've always found this fascinating.
I can do incredibly complicated things.
Things that require creativity.
Strategy.
Problem-solving.
Leadership.
Vision.
I can create systems.
Teach people.
Write articles.
Record podcasts.
Design courses.
Give speeches.
But ask me to do...
Life…
Suddenly everything falls apart.
Laundry?
It's been clean for three days.
Still in the basket.
I mean that…I’m staring at it as I write this.
The dishwasher?
I can unload approximately 87%.
That last spoon apparently lives there now.
The mail?
I'm not emotionally prepared.
Returning something to Amazon?
Sure.
I'll get right on that.
Right after I finish this completely unnecessary deep dive into whether octopuses recognize individual humans.
Priorities.
I once spent six hours building an entire marketing strategy.
Then stood in my kitchen eating shredded cheese because I'd forgotten to buy actual food.
Explain that.
You can't.
My brain loves complicated.
Complicated is interesting.
Complicated has puzzles.
Complicated has dopamine.
Simple?
Simple is suspicious.
Simple says,
"Hey...could you just put your shoes away?"
My brain responds,
"I'd rather invent a new filing system."
People have actually said to me,
"But you're so successful."
As though success somehow magically teaches you where you left your keys.
Friend...
Those are entirely different skill sets.
I think that's one of the hardest things for people to understand about ADHD.
Capability isn't consistency.
I am absolutely capable.
Just...
Not necessarily at the exact moment society would prefer.
The irony is spectacular.
I can explain executive dysfunction for an hour.
Then immediately forget to switch the laundry.
I can help thousands of women understand anxiety.
Then spend twenty minutes looking for my phone...
...while talking on it.
I contain multitudes.
And apparently none of them know where the scissors are.
The older I've gotten, the more I've realized something.
I'm not bad at life.
I'm bad at repetitive maintenance.
There's a difference.
Creating?
Love it.
Maintaining?
Please don't make me.
Starting?
Absolutely.
Finishing?
Let's not get crazy.
And honestly...
I spent years feeling ashamed of that.
Ashamed that I could accomplish things people admired...
While secretly struggling with things people considered basic.
Until I realized...
Basic doesn't mean easy.
Not for every brain.
These days...
I've stopped measuring my intelligence by my ability to remember toilet paper.
I've stopped assuming that because I forgot to pay a bill on Tuesday, I'm somehow less capable than the person who never forgets.
Because here's the truth:
Some people are incredible maintainers.
Some people are incredible creators.
Some people are both.
I'm very clearly one of the first two.
Actually...
Scratch that.
I'm one of the second ones.
See?
So yes...
I can write a book.
Build a business.
Create a course.
Deliver a keynote.
Research a topic until I accidentally become the world's leading expert.
And then...
Walk into the grocery store without a list.
Leave with candles.
Coffee.
A decorative basket.
Three kinds of cheese.
And absolutely no paper towels.
It's a gift.
Not a useful gift.
But a gift nonetheless.
Although...
Kevin the squirrel has never once forgotten to stock acorns.
He's becoming a little smug about it.
Kevin Squirrel
Chief Preparation Officer at Acorn Pantry™
Woodland Operations • Glitter Logistics • Emergency Snack Management
