ADHD Open Space Podcast

著者： Gray Miller late-diagnosed ADHD professional.
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  • The ADHD Open Space Podcast is for adult professionals living with ADHD and those who interact with them. We’ll talk about how it affects our work and those we care about. As the “open space’ implies, there is room to explore more, so feel free to leave suggestions and comments for each episode! The ADHD Open Space event will be January 20th, 2024 in Madison, WI. Registration opens December 1st at http://adhdopen.space! adhdos.substack.com
    Gray Miller
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あらすじ・解説

The ADHD Open Space Podcast is for adult professionals living with ADHD and those who interact with them. We’ll talk about how it affects our work and those we care about. As the “open space’ implies, there is room to explore more, so feel free to leave suggestions and comments for each episode! The ADHD Open Space event will be January 20th, 2024 in Madison, WI. Registration opens December 1st at http://adhdopen.space! adhdos.substack.com
Gray Miller
心理学 衛生・健康的な生活
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エピソード
  • Grace & Discipline with ADHD (Part Two)

    Grace & Discipline with ADHD (Part Two)
    2025/02/07
    originally written for Medium • Photo by Jackson Simmer on Unsplash If you know, you know. And that changes pretty much everything. “Suddenly, so much of my life made so much more sense.” That’s the most common refrain I hear from people like me who were late-diagnosed with ADHD. In my case, it was an ongoing, bitter, semi-serious joke, because while I excelled at tests, writing, and learning of all kinds, I somehow wasn’t ever able to parlay that into a secure career the way my peers seemed to. I would ask myself, over and over, as I looked at a depleted bank account or sat in traffic on the way to another job that I used to love but now felt like sandpaper in my gut: if I’m so smart, why ain’t I rich? Almost exactly a year ago from this writing, I got the confirmation of a possible answer to that question: because you’ve had ADHD (combined type) since you were a kid, and nobody knew it. I can’t blame anyone, not my teachers, not my parents, not my self, not my well-meaning friends and partners who tried a variety of techniques to help me succeed. There wasn’t the science to understand what ADHD was (in truth, there still isn’t, really, but at least it’s getting better). Now that I know I have ADHD, what does that change about my life? Being ignorant is not a sin. Remaining ignorant, is. — Robert Heinlein “What…are you…prepared…to DO?” — Sean Connery to Kevin Costner, The Untouchables Like many late-diagnosed ADHD folks, I channeled the one double-edged superpower that I understood: hyper-focus. I devoured the books, the podcasts, the papers, the social posts, the videos, and started writing about how I understood what I was learning (and now you’re reading this article! Sing with me: “It’s the CIIIRRRRRCLLLE of WRIIIIIIIIITE…”). That was the easy part. The hard part was — still is — that second part of the serenity prayer: accepting the things I cannot change. I have to stop pretending that my brain will work in the same way that most brains in this world work. It explains all the mishaps, mistakes, and poorly thought-out decisions that have made my life more difficult than it needed to be, but it doesn’t fix them. That’s up to me. Discipline means limiting my options. I hate even writing that. The cold, hard truth is that there are just some things that I see other people take for granted that I cannot do. I’m going to give you the current version of the running list, but before I do, I want to head off the typical neurotypical response: oh, everybody has that happen sometimes. Yes. You’re right. They do. The difference of ADHD is not in the symptoms; it is in the frequency and severity of the symptoms. Yes, everyone has diminished mental capacity when they don’t get enough sleep; for someone with ADHD, trouble sleeping is more common, and the diminishment is more severe. Which is why it’s at the top of the list: Things I cannot do: Skip on sleep. There’s an inverse relationship between how much sleep I get and how much my ADHD manifests during my day — and yes, I’m aware that sleep deprivation affects everyone, please see the above about severity. To add a layer of complication, the quality of the sleep also seems to be a factor.Skip on meds. It’s not just taking them — it’s the whole system of checks and reminders I have to have in place, because my brain doesn’t form habits, nor can it just assume I’ll remember to take them. Hence the obnoxious and insistent medical alarm on my Apple Watch, the checkbox in my daily journal for meds, and carrying a spare dose with me everywhere in my ADHD every-day carry.Skip on exercise. Again, I know: everybody needs to move. However, for most people, it’s because their body needs it. Mine too, but it’s become more and more clear that it’s really because my brain needs it to function adequately.Buy things conveniently. I used to think that contactless payment idea, the PayPal’s and the Venmo’s and tap-cards were wonderful inventions — until I realized, decades too late, that they make it that much easier for my brain to create crises by making impulsive purchases. I have them, but I’ve made them harder to use for myself.Use phrases like “in a while”, “soon”, or “later.” Time blindness is a thing. I’ve learned the hard way that I really have no concept of the passage of time, so if I use those very common phrases, they really have no meaning at all. Things I have to do: Interrupt my life to make notes. I have to write things down — names, tasks, ideas, you name it — in my little field notebook, or they get lost. It’s a common joke among ADHDers: The biggest lie we tell ourselves is “Oh, I’ll remember this later.” And sure, there are things on my phone that can let me conveniently take notes — but the phone is no longer a phone, remember? It’s an Infernal Distractibility Sarlacc Pitt of New Shiny ...
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    19 分
  • Grace and Discipline with ADHD (Part one)

    Grace and Discipline with ADHD (Part one)
    2025/02/03
    originally written for Medium.com • Photo by Keagan Henman on Unsplash The Deeper Long-Term Effects of Late-Diagnosis ADHD I was interviewed recently by the hosts of a decluttering podcast (link to come later, it’s not online yet!). I’ve been writing about organization systems and techniques for decades. I have always enjoyed trying out new systems, finding out the advantages and limitations and constantly re-optimizing them in various ways whether physical (whiteboards and labeled boxes!), paper (53 folders! File cabinets and notebooks!) or digital (Obsidian! Notion! Johnny Decimal! Tags, tags, so many tags…). It’s gotten to the point where I have to finally accept that it’s not so much a “need to get organized” as a hobby that I enjoy. Being a productivity/organization nerd for so long has made me into a bit of a resource for friends and clients as well; in any given situation, I usually can find a few different ways to organize, systematize, and optimize it, with a good idea of the pros and cons of each system. A long chat with a couple of decluttering enthusiasts was a wonderful way to spend a Saturday afternoon, and we laughed and traded ideas and experiences for over an hour. Finally one of the hosts asked me a question that resonated more deeply than I expected: Has your diagnosis of ADHD changed any of the ways you approach decluttering or organizing? Seems like an easy question, right? I could just point to the ADHD-friendly PDF planner, or my ADHD everyday carry kit, or something like that. But for some reason, the conversation sent my brain into deeper, more existential motivations, and two seemingly contradictory words bubbled up to the surface of my brain. “Yes. I give myself more grace, and more discipline. Grace is hard for a recovering workaholic ex-hustle-culture single-parent former Marine. Love languages are one thing — what about “motivational” languages? We all have varying ways of talking ourselves into doing things, as well as giving feedback to ourselves about the things we’ve done. Quite often these voices are echoes of the voices we internalized from others in our lives — parents, peers, teachers, partners, bosses, mentors, even books or podcasts. To use a distasteful example, a “pickup artist” enthusiast will likely start referring to people in terms of how attractive they find them — usually with a number, because objectifying other people with labels is much easier than actually interacting with them. But the interesting thing is that they also will refer to themselves with that numbering system — and it becomes a motivation for self-improvement. I’m only a six, but if I get in shape and dress better I could move up to a seven or eight and then I’ll have a chance with a nine, maybe even a not-picky ten! Gross, and also effective in some people I’ve met in getting them to pay more attention to their health and appearance. Even more distasteful and also unfortunately effective is the use of self-directed shame and anger as a motivator. I know this because many of my own accomplishments and “good habits” came from this kind of motivation. Nobody beats me up better than the drill instructor in my head (What do you mean you don’t feel like working out? Since when does a man your age have a choice in that? I don’t know what I did to deserve to be stuck in the head of someone this pathetic!). Or shame: No wonder your blog numbers fell. You don’t get up at 5 am and write anymore, the way real writers do. Might as well just keep scrolling Instagram, your work isn’t ever going to amount to anything anyway. Or just things not being good enough, even when they do get done: Sure, you think you’re a clever writer, coming up with these little voices in your head — but three? Four examples if you count the pickup artist? That’s ridiculous. Nobody’s going to read that much. You should have spent more time editing, instead of just squeezing in your writing on your lunch break. No wonder you’re not a Top Writer. That’s been my motivation for most of my life. Bullying and berating and belittling myself into getting things done — and it’s been quite effective, because I’ve done a lot of things, and certainly achieved the mainstream milestones of masculine success. And amidst being treated for the depression and anxiety that was the result of all that “success” came the news from my therapist and my psychiatrist. Oh. You have ADHD, combined type, and it’s pretty obvious that you’ve had it your entire life. That diagnosis added a new voice in my head. Suddenly there was a new set of ideas in my head, a clarification of the contributing factors to a huge number of decisions, events, and behaviors in my life. The simple understanding that my brain does not process dopamine the way that approximately 97% of other brains do explained why so much of the world I lived in — the world designed to ...
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    12 分
  • Your Productivity Tools and Hacks Are Useless Without This One Thing.

    Your Productivity Tools and Hacks Are Useless Without This One Thing.
    2025/01/31
    originally published on Medium.com I learned the hard way, so maybe you won't have to. I write a lot about productivity tools and methods. I’ve written about time management and project planning and habit formation and self reflection. I’ve reviewed the things that make these possible, apps and notebooks and timers and even wrote a book about my favorite form of meditation. I left something very important out. Something that happened in December made me realize that I’d done my readers a disservice: all this productrivia was worthless without one particular practices. Come with me to the Coliseum in Madison, Wisconsin, just after the Harlem Globetrotters performance, where I learned this crucial and painful lesson. I was absolutely, 100% positive I had parked my car in this lot. But as I stood there shivering in the Wisconsin winter, the halogen lights showed everybody else had parked their cars there, and were having no trouble finding them. I, on the other hand, had been wandering the rows for about half an hour, trying to find it. It was a layer cake of self-blame and physical misery. I was tired, cold, my knees hurt. But worse, I was ashamed: I was supposed to be giving my sister the dance teacher and my 6-year old nephew a ride home after their triumphant halftime performance with her dance class. I had gotten to be Good Big Brother and Cool Uncle, because she’d been injured by a horse (yes, she also works at a ranch) and so I’d offered to be the chauffeur. Except now I was the chauffeur who’d lost the car. I knew that she was waiting as patiently as she could, but I also knew that my nephew was getting really tired and they both needed to get home. I was letting them down. Worse, this situation was all too familiar. I’m notorious for forgetting where I park; once in college I’d wandered with my best friend through a parking ramp for an hour, trying to find the right stall, only to suddenly stop, look at her, and admit: “I think we’re in the wrong ramp.” She’s not my best friend any more. The thing is, I have an iPhone. One of the features of the Maps app is that, when you park your car, it drops a pin. This is where you parked! it says helpfully. I’d looked at it, seen the little blue dot that was me on the north side of the Coliseum and had a little walking-trail laid out to the east side, where it said my car was. I didn’t believe it. I’d been careful at the end of the game to make sure we’d retraced our steps, and I was completely positive that I was in the right parking lot. But my car wasn’t there. Priorities: I called my daughter, who’d also been at the game, and she first drove me around the lot a couple of times, on the off chance I was having some ADHD-related blindness towards my car. Nope; it just wasn’t there. I got out and asked her to pick up my sister and nephew, still waiting at the Coliseum exit, so that at least they’d be ok. I resigned myself to the frigid hellscape of the parking lot, wandering among the few cars that were left, getting ready to call the police and report my invaluable 2014 Prius as stolen. You know how the story ends, I suspect. A few seconds after my daughter went to get my sister, she called me. “Dad, your car is over in the East lot. I’m looking at it right now.” Right where my iPhone had said it was. The Maps app told me I could have walked there in two minutes. You have to trust the tool. I had billions of dollars in Apple R&D and the support of hundreds of high-tech global positioning satellites literally at my fingertips, all trying to tell me where I’d parked my %$#@ car…and I thought no, I’m sure I’m smarter than that. Before you decide a tool doesn’t work for you, it’s worth asking yourself: am I letting it? The effectiveness of any system is only as good as your willingness to trust it to work. A system only works if you work the system.
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    7 分
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