Happy 4th of July!
Today I wanna talk about my struggles with ADHD. And to start, I have to tell you what ADHD feels like to me…
It’s like I’m in a room with ten radios, all playing at full volume, and some bastard’s removed all the volume knobs. While ADHD meds can mute the noise, its like wearing headphones, putting a barrier between me and the noise. Its temporary, and you can still hear the noise, its just muted.
Even medicated, it’s exhausting.
My brain runs at full speed all the time. And it’s not always easy to separate the different radios, let’s say Reality XM and Anxiety FM, because they’re both playing similar songs, just with different words.
Over the years, I’ve learned ways to check in with myself: rules, structure, balance. That speed can actually be a strength. It helps me adapt quickly to change. But too many changes? I lose the structure, and without it, everything starts to wobble.
I hope that helps explain what my day-to-day life feels like.
There’s one channel in particular, let’s call it ExFM, that’s been playing constantly since late 2019. I could explain the why in psychology terms, but that’s not really the point today.
To be clear, my issues aren’t with my ex anymore. My issue is with the damn radio. I just can’t talk about how annoying the channel is without referencing him.
After my therapy session on Wednesday, I mentioned that ExFM was getting intrusive again. My therapist gently suggested writing a letter, ugh standard move, which I immediately dismissed. Mostly because, after six years, I’ve written hundreds of letters. Not all sent, but… more than I care to admit. Face palm.
Writing doesn’t help me turn the volume down for any real length of time. It just… silences it for a few days, and then it’s back. Loud. Intrusive.
Things are different this time, though.
I know there’s nothing more I can do. I have exhausted all possibilities, I no longer consider it my problem to fix.
There are no more solutions, nothing more I am willing to try, and to do so, would cause me more harm than good.
It’s sad. I miss him. Blah blah blah. But ultimately, it’s out of my control.
LOGICALLY I KNOW THIS!
I wish that was enough to drop-kick the ExFM radio out the window. But it isn’t.
That simple suggestion “Maybe you should write” triggered an entire day lost. Not even writing. Just mentally reframing what I’d say if I wrote. I got stuck in a loop. And even though I knew it was a waste of energy, I couldn’t stop my brain from focusing on that one channel.
Eight hours later? I was right back where I started. The same belief…
Shrug. Not my problem to manage.
Insert scream into the void here.
(And I will throat-punch anyone who suggests “have you tried distracting yourself?” or “just don’t think about it,” or the absolute worst… “let it go.” Like I didn’t just spend fifteen minutes explaining all this to you without considering that revolutionary piece of advice at any point, all on my own.)
I was so angry and frustrated at myself for losing precious daylight hours to that damn radio. It makes me want to weep when I don’t have control like that. And yes, I know writing to him would probably silence the noise… but only temporarily.
That’s not the solution. I need to learn to quiet it, maybe wrap it in a blanket, or put it in another room, smash it with a hammer … I don’t know … yet … just something permanent, or at least lasts longer than a few days.
I’m not reaching out. I don’t want that chaos back. I just wish it would stop playing so loudly.
(Hilariously, he would struggle with this too … but he was taught how to turn up the volume on ANGRY FM, the radio channel for manly men, who never want to look soft! – I’ve never been able to find that channel, but sometimes he’s loudly expressed what it’s like so I’m aware it’s there)
The good news? And thank god there is some…
All that emotional chaos sparked some threads in unexpected creativity.
I don’t mind him being part of the noise of my life.
I just wish it wasn’t so overwhelming at times, especially when I need to focus on other things.
I’m still keeping the project I’m working on quiet for now, but it’s moving again. smile
Even ExFM had a role to play, apparently.
“She plays the role of tortured artist so well.” – mother.
I wrapped the day with a quick tidy outside, storm debris everywhere, branches, scattered leaves, and that heavy post-storm humidity. Clearing it felt like sweeping out static from my head.
Now I’m sat here the next day, still digging through the mental muck for diamonds.
Soon I’ll head inside. While the fireworks go off, I’ll be indoors with the dogs. They’re country dogs, they can handle the odd gunshot in the distance, but they don’t need to deal with an hour-long barrage of explosions.
Honestly, I prefer it this way. No strangers. Just me, the animals, and a sky full of noise I don’t have to engage with.
Then it’s food, rest, and the final episodes of Salem. Dark, a little creepy, and oddly comforting.
My kind of celebration.
