So I Married an ADDer

Anger makes dull men witty, but it keeps them poor.

My partner Jen is an excellent driver. She has never been pulled over and has never been in an accident (which is more than I can say for myself after crashing my car in the middle of the Six Flags drive-thru safari). But Jen has a little problem with road rage, as do many ADDers.

In an effort to help, I came across a site called RoadRagers.com, where you can actually file a report on someone's bad driving.

The only required information is the car's color, license plate number, plus the street, city, date and time where the offense took place. There is ample space for you to vent your frustrations about the driver, and there is also a search function...so you can see if anyone has filed a report on you.

Whatever you are, be a good one.

My college roommate used to get a kick out of saying to people, "You're special. Just like everyone else." Even though it's a joke, it's true. Not to sound like Mr. Rogers, but everyone is special, in their own way. Everyone has something unique to offer to the world.

My understanding of people with ADD is that they always feel special -- sometimes in a good way, sometimes not. Frequently singled out as children for their idiosyncrasies, ADDers transition into adulthood feeling different from everybody else. Sure, ADD has its challenges. Organization and time management come to mind. But the specialness of ADD comes in the form of creativity, big picture thinking, and drive.

So naturally, when you look at history, there's plenty of evidence suggesting that a number of FDP's (Famous Dead People) had ADD, and used it to their advantage.

Think about it. Thomas Edison. The man went through 10,000 crappy semi-light bulbs before creating the light bulb we all use today. His friends thought he was off his rocker, but clearly he was hyperfocused. He started inventing the light bulb and he couldn't stop until he succeeded.

Benjamin Franklin. A man so determined to harness electricity that he stood outside during a lightening storm holding a metal object. Remind you of anyone you know?

The one I can't wrap my head around is Abraham Lincoln. I've heard rumors that Honest Abe was ADD Abe but I simply can't picture it. The man was, what? seven feet tall? Plus the hat? I see him standing at the podium, tapping one foot while delivering the Gettysburg Address. "Four score and seven years ago...shit...hang on...Mary, did you bring my index cards?"

You got to know when to hold 'em.

Jen and I spent the weekend in Atlantic City for her birthday, which was a little surprise I'd been working on for some time. She knew we were going somewhere, she just didn't know where (although she guessed pretty quickly, because I'm about as subtle as a train wreck). I chose A.C. because Jen has an affinity for the slots and actually has a history of winning at them. A few years back, she racked up $1400 in a single afternoon. In a vast sea of slot machines, she always picks the good ones. If you ask her secret, she'll tell you it's ADD intuition.

We descend the escalator into Bally's Wild Wild West Casino (chosen for its kitshcy western theme by yours truly, who can't resist an animatronic donkey). Jen walks purposefully up and down the rows of slot machines, reading their energy and trying to make the best selection. She finally settles on a machine that feels right, and proceeds to rake in the dough. We don't always come home with cash, but she makes it last a lot longer than most people.

I have heard that many people with ADD can't gamble at all, because they get sucked in and can't shift out of gambling mode. I can understand how an ADDer could hyperfocus on a slot machine. Even overcautious little me was sitting there, at 1:00 in the morning, going "One more spin. One more spin." Jen is unlike most ADDers when it comes to gambling; she knows her limits and can stick to them. So we can take these little getaways to Atlantic City and have a good time.

If you or someone you know has a gambling problem, there are numerous ways to get help. One of them is the National Council on Problem Gambling.

Rise and shine!

If you're like me, your mornings go something like this...

It's 6:45 AM. Your cell phone begins to vibrate under your pillow. Your $85 designer "dawn clock" is collecting dust on the other side of the room, because its gentle glow and soft nature sounds disturb your sleeping partner. You hurriedly grope around for your phone and make your way to the shower.

By now you know that my partner Jen has ADD. If you share a bed with an ADDer, you're familiar with the daily struggle of getting them out of it. You can't wake them until the last possible minute, for they will groggily argue that they still have more time. When the last minute comes and goes, you stage a blatant demonstration that the rest of the world is up and running. You turn on the morning news. You brew the coffee. You put the dog on the bed. Eventually the slumbering ADDer will reluctantly emerge from the bedroom and growl at you for waking them up.

Friends, I have found the solution to our morning woes. A website called The Uber-Review has compiled the Top 10 Most Annoying Alarm Clocks, including one that runs away, one that floats to the ceiling, and one that looks like a hand grenade. Get one for the ADDer in your life, won't you?

Uber-Review: The Top 10 Most Annoying Alarm Clocks

How resilient are you?

I'm changing course today and recommending a book, the first sentence of which is:

How many times in the last week have you said to yourself, "I can't take this stress anymore," or "Why do I keep overreacting to such little things," or even "Is this all there is to life?"

I was compelled to read this book a few months ago after admitting to a lifelong tendency to give up when the going gets tough. For as long as I could remember, I had backed down from challenges and relied on other people to fix my problems. My mother always told me I was "flying by the seat of my pants"...and that it would eventually catch up with me. When it finally did (thanks Mom), I realized I'd been a self-reliant member of the workforce for too long to be acting like a child. Those habits were no longer working for me. If I was going to be successful -- at anything -- I had to build my resilience.

Resilience is defined as the ability to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change. A resilient person knows how to pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and start all over again.* Some people are born resilient, and others have to work at it. I fall into the latter category. And that's why I'm recommending this book, The Resilience Factor: 7 Keys to Finding Your Inner Strength and Overcoming Life's Hurdles.

This book will help you build self-awareness, especially around your perception of adversity. You will gain insight into what you're doing, why you're doing it, and most importantly, how you can do it differently. I have practiced many of the exercises in this book when faced with a challenge, and they really do help. You will also read inspiring stories of resilient people who thrive where most people would fail.

This is a great resource for people with ADD and those of us without ADD who want to build their inner strength.

The Resilience Factor: 7 Keys to Finding Your Inner Strength and Overcoming Life's Hurdles

*Jerome Kern song from 1936 that also features the line: Nice teacher, teach me something, I'm as awkward as a camel.

Don't knock the system.

In any partnership or family, regardless of your ADD status, it's crucial to have systems in place for nearly everything. Chores, meals, bedtime, pet care, finances...I speak from experience when I say that family life can turn into a free-for-all if you let too many things go. I'm sure you're nodding your head in agreement. Even if you live alone, all it takes is one episode of Nanny 911 to show you how quickly things can go downhill when you give up control.

Jen and I do not have children yet, but we will within the next few years (we do have a dog that we treat like a child, though). You're wondering why all these systems are necessary for a couple with no (human) children. "They've got it easy!" you say. Well, right now we're focused on creating and fine-tuning our household systems so that by the time kids come into the picture, we'll be fully prepared.

Say we're going away for the weekend. I will print out a pre-written list of everything we need to bring, pack up our bags, and get Punky's stuff together. This eliminates the last-minute scrambling that a lot of families succumb to when going on a trip (or sometimes just leaving the house). Jen will print out the driving directions, make sure there's gas in the car, and ensure we have plenty of bottled water and coffee for the trip. I will usually put together a folder with any phone numbers, maps, brochures, reservations, and yes, sometimes even an itinerary. Jen will pick out 10-15 CDs to listen to in the car (although she always ends up playing just one, over and over and over). Without this system in place, going away for the weekend would be a nightmare of "Where did I put the directions?!" and "Did you remember to pack our toothbrushes?!" It's so much easier to know what each of our responsibilities are and stick to them.

And we don't have it easy. Jen's ADD causes her to become overwhelmed very quickly in stressful situations. If enough things go wrong, she will completely shut down and be forced to run on an empty tank for the rest of the day, which is no fun for either of us. It's up to me to hold it all together and make sure things go smoothly. That's my job at work, and that's my job at home.

How do I cope? I wait until Jen goes on a business trip, and then I make a mess of the entire house and watch TV in my pajamas, eating whipped cream from the can. By the time she gets home the place is spotless.

The road of life is full of driving metaphors.

"On the road of life, there are passengers, and there are drivers."

By now you've seen the Volkswagen commercial with that tag line. And when you saw it for the first time, you probably thought to yourself (or said out loud), "I'm a driver!"

I myself have been sitting in the passenger seat for many years. Until recently, I'd been perfectly content letting the universe chauffeur me around. But eventually I grew tired of watching the landscape go by, and I decided it was time to get behind the wheel.

I have long reasoned to myself that Jen and I work well together because she has natural leadership skills and I am a solid lieutenant. Ned Hallowell didn't call his book Driven to Distraction for nothing. Like most people with ADD, Jen is blessed with tremendous drive. She is constantly moving forward, pursuing new ideas and taking on new challenges. I am less of a trail blazer. In fact I'm a big fan of the path of least resistance. It's covered in pretty flowers and sometimes you see baby deer. But this has gotten me absolutely nowhere.

"Wait," you say, "Your partner has ADD, not you. Are you telling me that you're lazy and unmotivated?"

Yeah, pretty much. I'm not proud of it. In fact, that's why I'm posting this. I'm commiting to turning my attitude around. I want to drive my own life-car. I've been inspired by Jen for so many years, but I've never transformed that inspiration into action. So with you fine people as my witnesses, I am hereby ceasing to be a BMW (Bitcher/Moaner/Whiner) and am getting behind the wheel of my Volkswagen.

March of the ADDers

I look forward to the Oscars every year, although every year it seems I've seen even fewer of the award contenders than I have the year before. I hadn't seen a single film nominated for Best Picture last night, even though Jen and I have been planning to go to the movies for months. Why? This is one area in which her ADD becomes our ADD.

"Hey, we should go to a movie this weekend."
"Yeah, we really should."

Followed by nothing.

We start out with perfectly good intentions, but when the time comes to actually go to the movies, there are a million other things to do. This is not the end of the world -- we can get movies on demand through our cable provider, or if we wanted to, we could subscribe to Netflix (which I imagine is a great option for ADDers because they don't charge late fees).

So why I am blogging about the Oscars? I am blogging about the Oscars because I am upset that I didn't see March of the Penguins.

I blame Jen for this. As dictated by her ADD, 90 minutes of watching penguins could, in fact, kill her. She only made it through 13 minutes of Sunday in the Park with George* before she broke down screaming. Observing penguins going about their daily business is not an ADD-friendly form of entertainment. Me, I could watch the little guys all day.

*1984 musical by Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine, starring Bernadette Peters and Mandy Patinkin. The DVD Jen failed to make it through can be purchased here.

The first of what promises to be many chicken jokes.

Why did the ADD chicken cross the road?
To look for its keys.

Why you have to go and make things so complicated?

Despite the fact that Jen has ADD and I do not, we share a common need to keep our lives as uncomplicated as possible. We both grew up in households where everything was made into a big deal. There was always something that needed to be dealt with or worried about. So when she reached adulthood, Jen made a commitment to herself to live chaos-free. I have always been pretty laid back, so I was content to distance myself from my high-strung family. In this regard, we suit each other very well.

This is not to say that our families' panicked energy doesn't affect us when we're spending time with them. It's a continual challenge to stay balanced and calm when we find ourselves back in the houses we grew up in, with that residual chaos always in the air. You hear all the time about people not enjoying Thanksgiving because their family drives them crazy. Jen and I always enjoy the holidays because we don't let other people's energy rub off on us.

The ideal solution is to establish a rhythm with your partner, especially if they have ADD and are easily overwhelmed. Know what their triggers are. Know what sends them over the edge. If your partner takes pride in his cooking, and you hear his mother make a snide remark about his trademark mashed potatoes, get him out of there. Ask him to take a walk with you. Ask him to run to the store for some ice. Give him a chance to get centered so he can rejoin the dinner party without getting into an argument with his mother. If Jen or I start to get overwhelmed at family gatherings, we hop in the car and take a drive, or we close the door to the guest room and watch some TV until we're ready to rejoin the crowd. She can tell when I need a break, and I can tell when she needs a break.

It's a good thing.