Thursday, September 27, 2012


Messy Desk Boys

I once heard a lady with ADHD describe her messy purse, and it reminded me of the term “a messy-purse girl.” I don’t think it requires description. Likely you already have a mental picture.

 “Hump,”  I say. “It isn’t just females who live within the walls of clutter and messiness. I remember the boys in school with perpetually messy desks.”

Do you remember the ones who had to clean out their desks once per month? Remember how they would find all sorts of treasures from missing homework and pencils to baseball cards and of course, the latest missing library book?

Be careful,” Husband says as we both turn toward his desk in our home office. “I resemble that remark.”

Yep, he’s right about that. Even these days, piles of papers and envelopes lay scattered in some form of organization across the top of his rather large desk.

They’re not totally unorganized, but they are not orderly or laid out in an easy-to-find arrangement.

Don’t touch the things on my desk. I won’t be able to find what I need if you do,” he tells me.

“Find?” I ask incredulously as I look at the collection of hodge-podge items such as address labels from magazines and other items waiting for the shredder, marketing and sales materials, brochures, bills and the envelopes they came in, a candy wrapper, and this year’s Christmas photo from his nephew.

He just does not keep items in a certain order. Why doesn’t he try standard organization tactics such as color-coded files or three-ring binder?

Athalene,” he has said to me in his firm and authoritative voice. “I don’t know why I organize like this. If I knew how to keep it neat and tidy, I would do so.”

So am I to assume his clutter is due to a lack of knowing? Does he fail to keep it tidy because it is beyond his skill set?

I think not. In fact, I imagine his desk and his way of organizing represent the way things are arranged in his mind with non-sequential groupings and order that is reasonably logical to him.

Professional organizers say that individuals should organize their space in a way that correlates with how they live in that space. Not all people organize in the same way, and for it to be more practical, each person should use his or her space in a unique way and how he or she wants it to function.

“They” don’t have to walk past Husband’s desk several times a day, or wish for less clutter in their homes.

I am not as dull-witted as I may look. As a matter of fact, I am wise enough not to wade into his messiness and begin throwing out his effects. One day, I even helped him purge. He decided what to keep and throw, and I did the actual work.

I once shared with Husband, “Organization Guru, Julie Morgenstern, recommends what she calls the “Kindergarten Classroom” method for organizing. Divide the space or room into activity zones. Focus on one activity at a time.  Store items at their point of use.  Put things away in the new homes you have created for them. Use colors or other visuals to help you remember the different zones. Do you think you might like to use that idea?”

He stared me squarely in the eye. With one hand on his head, and the other resting on the opposite hip, he sang, “I’m a little teapot.”   I got his message.

 

 

 

Tuesday, September 25, 2012


Mindful Frustration

Just now I completed writing about why the child with ADHD has problems making friends. Given that they are often impulsive, fail to follow through, and miss social cues, their peers get frustrated and irritated trying to interact with them.

At times, so do spouses of adults with ADHD get perturbed or exasperated. As my mother-in-law warned me many years ago, innuendos are not forms of communication with the person with ADHD.

My writing led me to think of Mindfulness. Many topics tend to lead me in that direction these days.

For instance, Saturday was to be a day in my resting regime; I had scheduled it as a sabbath time for renewal and refreshment. It didn’t begin that way, and it continued not to be that way for the greater part of the day. I started it by running a promised errand for another family member. Then, in order for my daughter to wash her clothes, I tidied the laundry area.

Husband stayed in bed until 10 A.M., and he only got up then because I finally announced the time.

He watched TV most of the day while I watched the floor that needed vacuumed and the other floors that needed steam mopped.

I made comments about these chores, but he did not respond.

Finally I was more direct. “Will you clean the cat box?”  I did ask politely. Even though it is his regular responsibility, he didn’t answer, but eventually the offensive elements in the box disappeared.

However, a mound of litter laid on the bathroom floor next the box and spilled onto the carpet in the adjoining room.

“He always ignores this,” I mumbled under my breath along with several other criticisms of how he does not complete chores. Sacrificially I cleaned the floor and carpet as I muttered about filthiness and learned laziness.

Accept my word for it, there was much more that he could have been doing around the house. It isn’t necessary for you to hear about the long list of ignored chores and incomplete tasks that assailed my senses.

What good would it do? I have lived within this scenario for nearly 40 years. Besides, I am really practiced at feeling sorry for myself.  The resentment continued to build. Sure, I made a few comments to him, but he literally didn’t get it. This was stress that did not affect me in a good way.

Finally I exploded in frustration. That got his attention. He thought I was threatening to commit suicide. Suicide?  Assault and battery, maybe. Physical attack, possibly. But it wasn’t me I wanted to hurt.

It was at that moment I thought of Mindfulness. I became aware of the moment and the thoughts and feelings flooding my reasoning. Mindfulness allowed me to notice them as they were, without judging the experience. I was simply aware I should get away from the situation and leave the house for a while.

I grabbed my tanning supplies and headed for the salon. I was mindful I should do something good for myself that allowed peace and quiet away from the sights of endless tasks and chores.

As I lay quietly alone on the tanning bed, I focused my thoughts on meditation, or as we say in Christian vocabulary, on prayer. I was aware of God’s Presence in and with me, of my need to accept responsibility for my own thoughts and reactions, and aware that Husband is not the only person who contributed to my frustration. I meditated on God’s ability and willingness to help me overcome my selfishness and to name it as such, and I meditated on my responsibility to apologize and ask forgiveness.

I know this sound countercultural, but it is my mindful meditation, and it works for me.

When I got home, chores and tasks remained undone. I could still see them, but I came back with a different perspective. Prayer and meditation cleared the chalkboard of my mind and changed the dynamics of my reactions.

Friday, September 14, 2012


Communication Social Skills

Nearly 30 years ago our family learned sign language in order to communicate with a neighbor’s child. It has proven to be one of the best skills we have enjoyed as a family.  A variety of sign languages are used throughout the United States, and sign language can be considered the fourth most used language in our country, especially when talking about American Sign Language. One of the neatest aspects of knowing sign language is how to use body, space, manual expression, and facial expression.

Husband uses sign language quite beautifully, and for many years served as an interpreter to deaf members of our church congregation.

Our family uses it when we cannot talk in church or other places such as school meetings when we poked fun among ourselves at a school board member/mother in our community. No, don’t feel sorry for her. She was offensive to many people in our school community; we just had the means to talk about her behind her back in front of her face.

Call it tension release.

Yesterday we had another great opportunity for tension release, only this time it was another customer in the hair salon where we go for haircuts.

Our stylist cut Husband’s hair before starting in on me. We were the only ones in the salon expect for another stylist who was waiting for her next customer.

When he bounded through the door, we all knew it. He came with his slightly self-focused smile, a head-full of bushy curls, and his loud voice.

I happened to turn toward where Husband sat waiting for me and asked “ADHD?” in sign language.

With squinted eyes, Husband watched the new customer closely for a while without making a comment.

Customer said, “Yes, it has gotten long and curly. She wants you to take it to a fall-weather cut. Trim this part of my beard. She wants me to have a goatee.”

Within two minutes we heard about the impending anniversary celebration and the party their grown children planned for them.  OK. We had no problem with that conversation, although it was a bit loud.

In answer to his stylist’s question, Customer soon said, “We are also going to New Orleans to the French Quarter. She has never been there. I have many times because my brother is a performer, and he has often done shows in the French Quarter. I flew down to be with him there several times.”

We learned more about his brother. “He travels all over the USA, but his home is in California. He is 66 years old, but he still has to work. Well, you can imagine how it is to own a business such as that.”

I had turned several times to observe Husband’s face. He continued to squint. He still had not answered my question.

Customer had not stopped talking about She and about the impending celebration and of course, his brother. Husband still had not answered my question.

Customer continued, “Yeah, I told my brother about this trip, and he is happy for us. He offered to meet us there. That was a neat suggestion.”

I looked over at Husband who crossed his arms.  He made a fist with his left hand and swiped across it with his right palm. Then he circled the tip of his nose with the right fist. My stylist saw us. “I see you are talking? What did he just say?”

“Full of shit,” I replied. Tony burst out laughing.

Without taking much breath, Customer said, “So I mentioned it to her. The idea didn’t go over very well, actually. She said that she does not want my brother along with us while we are there to celebrate our anniversary.”

He was quite for a few thoughtful moments before continuing. “Usually I stay with his group when I go because the cost of hotels in New Orleans is really expensive. Anything over $100 per night is too much. I am only there to bathe and sleep. She made the reservations for this trip. I told her not to tell me how much the room will cost her.”

I glanced at Husband who laid his right arm on the left. With one hand he put up two fingers like bull horns. I began to laugh before he even wiggled the fingers of the other hand. So did Tony. “I can tell that one. Bullshit, right?”

 

Tuesday, September 4, 2012


Labor Day

This day is set aside to celebrate the working class of our nation, as well as a day to cease our labors for rest and relaxation.

I don’t understand the concept rest and take it easy. It has never happened that way for me the first Monday in September. At least, it has not happened very much since I began raising children.

It certainly hasn’t happened often since I began shoring up a spouse with ADHD.

Not that I am complaining - much. I love Husband. I love memories from previous Labor Days when the children were small.

I remember the year I hanged freshly-washed laundry on the clothes line. Husband called to me from the backyard, “I am going to smoke this steak for dinner today.”  It was one activity he enjoyed, so it was the one activity on his list for the day.

Hey, wait. I just put those clothes on the line. The smoker stands next to it. Wait until they are dried before you light the wood.

“Too late,” he called again.

I made the mad scramble to bring the clothes indoors.

Other Labor Days we mostly puttered around in the yard or prepared food for visits from extended family.

We didn’t do much in the way of neglected chores, even though our house was that one house on the block. You know the one where the trim needed repair or paint. Other minor, copulatory chores reproduced during the darkest hours of night, and neighbors talked about us behind our backs.

One was brave enough to say it to my face, ”Rather than helping others through your church, you should stay home and take care of the repairs on your own place.”

I merely groaned inward. She had no idea. In addition to caring for my children, keeping house, mowing the lawn, and working part time as a freelance writer, I had not the time or skill to get the other things done; neither did I have the money.

Doing all I was capable of accomplishing, I certainly did not have the emotional strength to push Husband into action or force him to spend his money.

If they had only known, or even if I had known what I do now,” I sigh.

My husband was not going to be the one who cared what others thought nor was he sensitive to my need for tidiness. He was oblivious to it all, and he didn’t intend to change.

This particular neighbor’s husband mowed the grass, repaired fences, took care of the car, and took out the trash without needing to be prompted, coerced, or reminded. She had no clue.

Families without ADHD do not understand. The spouse of the person with ADHD is often in turmoil because things do not get done. Whether it is a wife or husband with ADHD, the spouse agonizes over the incompletes.

It is a constant nag at the back of the mind. It is far from rest or ceasing to strife.

Of course none of the neighbors had the courage to speak to Husband directly. They came to me with the mistaken notion that I could make him get things done.

Ha! If I knew how to do that, I could patent the notion and make a million,”   I often thought.

Being ever-optimistic, I hoped the Labor Day cooler temperatures and the prospect of a new school year would motivate Husband into action.

Every year I dreamed for that.

Now that we have grown older, I hope for Husband to get out of bed before 10 a.m. on Labor Day and to do something other than sit in front of the TV when he does.

I continue to hope for that.

He has the retirement concept down to an art. He has no problem with the concept of rest and cease from labor, and on this Labor Day, one of us continues to labor and the other continues to rest and relax.