KARMA SPEAKS

ADULT ADHD

BY DENISE “KARMA” CLIFFORD

Hi, I have ADHD and I hate when people tell me they can’t focus either. Girl, I see your organized lifestyle, and it isn’t cute when you try to relate. Unless of course you truly do. It also goes way beyond focus and being organized. I recognize there is a large population of individuals who struggle with this condition too, and wish I had known I did as a child. I just thought it was a temporary mindset that I would eventually outgrow. It is not, but growing up being undiagnosed and finally finding out makes things I did make more sense.

In fact I am now learning that it just isn’t ADHD, but in fact other neurodivergent personality disorders associated with it, that I have struggled with my entire life. Females go undiagnosed more so than boys, as for some biological reason females we learn to “mask” to fit in, where boys are labeled hyper or troubled, as they tend to act out more so than twirls. Masking is something I’m sure I’ve become a pro at, and didn’t even know I was doing it. It’s a new term I’ve recently been enlightened with, and now understand why when I express to friends I have social anxiety, they laugh and tell me I’m absurd. As I get along with everyone. Masking is the ability to recognize what traits are socially accepted per experience, and to then mimic said traits. To fit in. It’s emotionally draining and now makes sense why after social events I have to self isolate, sometimes even for days. It’s like recharging my energy. Having ADHD became apparent to me when I started looking for signs and help for my own daughter who I knew was struggling as a child. I didn’t want to medicate her, so I tried to find techniques naturally. In doing so, I realized it wasn’t only my daughter, but myself who needed to find ways to cope and strategies to become organized, to focus and potentially not struggle through the day to day tasks that for most come easy. It still isn’t easy. I still

wonder why I dented for so long that I should be researching for myself.

Every day is Waking up to a different song inside your head. It plays constantly over and over while you contemplate getting up. Along with a list of the days tasks, yesterday’s conversations that your analyzing, memories of making breakfast for kids who are now grown, the noises of the roosters outside crowing, the dog jumping into your face, some unknown clouded sounds that seem to always be existing and fighting for you to hone in on them, the ongoing question if I’m good enough, but also knowing your way bend good. There are never not at least 10 thoughts bouncing around at one time. So just waking up in the morning is where the struggle begins. Coffee, at least there’s that. Sit, have coffee, think about a plan today. If there is not a structured already thought out plan, such as work, then who knows how or what will be of the day. That’s just the way this brain works. I know what needs to be done, but where does one begin, when there are multiple things to do? Sounds easy to most, Just pick one task and begin. To me, an overwhelmed brain makes choosing one thing just not good enough. I want to choose them all, And I want to get them all done at once.

Then there’s the distractions. They are non stop, like being on a train where doors are opening, people are walking by, and the train constantly jostles on the track. I once thought this was how everyone’s brain worked. Holding one conversation while looking at a wall and trying to measure its length in your head and picturing it the color you plan to paint it. Thinking about the next cabinet you are installing in the kitchen and the hay bails you need to get for the goats. All thoughts all at once. All while a jingle plays off on another corner of your mind.

There are days I am super constructive and get so much done and the feeling of accomplishment puts me on high and

“Girl, I see your organized lifestyle, and it isn’t cute when you try to relate. Unless of course you truly do.”

happy place. Yet alot of days where I’ve started things yet nothing seems to have gotten done and I fall into the useless unworthy pit. I try to recognize why this extreme change of behavior happens, but still have no answer. Or a way to even out the productivity.

I cringe when someone calls me, as the phone conversations make me uncomfortable, yet when I call someone it’s ok. I can be alright with a whole day or two alone, yet friends feel I need someone to stop by, so as to not be depressed. When honestly I need solitude to rebalance and shift my energy because I expressed it all in a social outing. I’m learning this behavior is normal for individuals who also struggle with the same disorder as myself.

I’ve lived the majority of life wondering why I don’t fit the normal that wasn’t me. I fear in trying so hard to mask, I never truly got to embrace my true self. I have recently come across individuals who are transparent in the adult diagnosis and how they are now living in their comfort zone, unmasked. Which I too want to begin doing. I cannot Undo all of the actions my disorder held me accountable to, yet I can now understand so much more of the path I choose. The emotions and feelings I held, and the uncomfortable life I was accustomed to, now doesn’t have to be my future self. I don’t have to fit in, or pretend I want to meet out when inside all I want to do is be alone, pet my dog and watch horror flicks. There is nothing wrong with saying no to plans. Or enjoying the company of animals and the great outdoors more than most people sometimes. My healthy mindset requires me to isolate and replenish my energy. I don’t have to be everyone else’s normal, to be content. In fact as long as I’m content, that’s my normal.

PRIORITIZING CREATIVITY

BY LISA WAGNER

Making Time for What Feeds Your Soul

If you are anything like me, prioritizing your creativity sounds like a luxury you rarely find time to fit into your schedule. Being in a state of creative flow is what refuels us and gives us the energy to take on the challenges in life that we face, big and small. My poor therapist spends every session forcing me to look at my calendar realistically and literally schedule a time for me to do my art at the end of my session. (I love that she pushes me!) My husband begs me to do that for myself almost daily. Yet, I end up getting derailed by all the other “things” that pop up throughout the day because I haven’t yet mastered making my mental well-being non-negotiable. Sound familiar?

We recently got back from a two-week trip to Italy. I’ve wanted to go since I was five years old. Standing in my great grandma’s kitchen as she made the most amazing Italian dishes felt like I was seeing their homeland play out in her dining room. My great uncles shared stories and laughter over homemade wine, cheese, fruit, bread, and all forms of pork-based cold cuts. It was what I assumed pure joy looked like. Her house was filled with amazing smells too and I wanted to experience what their lives must have been like over there. In Italy, as we walked around eating gelato in the piazzas or having an un café or an amazing dish of carbonara, we happily observed their way of life. It felt laid back and was lead with a zeal for everyday experiences and interactions. Their deep sense of community and loving rituals left a lasting impression on me about how I’d like to live my life going forward. own miracle work and living from a place of Divine love. A Course in Miracles states, “Miracles occur naturally as expressions of love. The real miracle is the love that inspires them. In this sense everything that comes from love is a miracle.” You have a divinely given birthright to experience those miracles and find your joy.

When we ignore the call from our souls to do the things we love and celebrate the everyday like the Italians we witnessed do, we choose to live life chaotically (like most people in our country). Most of us ended up becoming more stressed and anxious. We miss the little things, like how the fall leaves colors reflect off the calm water. Or how the cool breeze smells of freshly fallen leaves. Our hearts, instead of feeling contentment and in the moment, feel like they’re running a marathon. We are tapped out and can’t take on one more thing. Our stress cups (as my therapist refers to them as), are already overflowing. Adding more angst to that cup only adds to our inner pain and exhaustion.

How many times have you sworn you were going to turn your phone off or never look at social media or the news? I’ve personally lost count of my own calls to hide away in a cave somewhere where I’m unreachable and know nothing of the outside world’s craziness or what anyone needs from me. I’ve officially never found the cave anyway. Instead, we all continue doing what we’ve always done as women; be the one who solves all things, finds the keys, gets the kids to soccer on time and knows everyone’s birthdays to send out the cards on time. Don’t even get me started about the upcoming holidays. By the time everyone has gone to bed, you get to breathe. Here’s the kicker, though. When we don’t show up for our creative voice, we can’t be fully our best selves. We show up as the half-drained shell of a human that could cry at the drop of a hat if one more thing lands on the to-do list. We have given those around us the clues that read as though we are continually available to them at our own expense. We then reinforce our own damaging self-beliefs that we come last. Martyrdom becomes our norm, and we wear it like a badge of honor. When we show up filled with resentment, people around us feel that and it slowly damages not only those relationships but our own level of self-love.

I was once the worst offender of this kind of self-loathing. I wasn’t mad at others. I was so mad at myself for not prioritizing my own joy through the act of creating. It had become so second-nature that I still slide back into that way of being when I’m not living mindfully. Especially in my new town where things have challenged the self-love practices, I had just gotten good at.

We currently live in a quiet area that is three hours from my family and most of my friends. Having to rediscover myself in a place that I sometimes feel disconnected from has me relearning how to be the person I had just become shortly before moving. I have had to allow myself to drop my pride and accept the loving hand my husband continually offers to me. Our role reversal has been a challenging adjustment for me but one that I’m now realizing probably resisted for decades. Now, it feels like we are equals and one heck of a great team. It’s too bad it took me so long to realize I’m deserving of that kind of love and support.