Eight contradictory ADHD symptoms that shape my life

Living with ADHD means I’m always jumping between two opposed extremes.

I’m enthusiastic about everything but dedicated to nothing. I overthink but underdo. I’m overstimulated and underwhelmed.

These contrasts have molded my existence.

I was typically well-behaved in school. Outside, it was a different story.

Once, I drew a thick mustache on my face with a permanent marker at summer camp. Other times, I chattered too loudly, enabled by an equally disruptive friend. I was disciplined for this bad behavior and eventually learned to internalize my restlessness.

I was diagnosed with ADHD and oppositional defiant disorder at age 11. But I didn’t know what that meant other than that I couldn’t focus in math class and liked to say no.

As I became an adult, these contradictions became more problematic.

I could work for hours on a project but struggle to write a simple email.

I could rise to the occasion when the pressure was on but then get burned out and need weeks to recover.

I succeeded as a writer, athlete, and business owner, yet I couldn’t hold down a traditional job.

My life was characterized by inconsistency that seemed uncontrollable. I never knew what version of myself would show up for the day. My moods were dominated by anxiety, sadness, rage, and frustration.

After a mental health crisis at 31, doctors diagnosed me again with ADHD, as well as depression and anxiety. I wasn’t surprised.

Most days, I feel like an unwitting participant in an internal wrestling match. I can be hyper-focused and completely scattered, driven and paralyzed, all at once.

I soon learned that these contradictions are a feature, not a bug, of ADHD.

In their book ADHD 2.0, psychiatrists Edward M. Hallowell and John J. Ratey defined ADHD as a “complex set of contradictory or paradoxical tendencies.”

And my impressive strengths and corresponding embarrassing weaknesses? That’s part of ADHD too.

“There are validated, scientific reasons for the huge disparity in strengths and weaknesses that exists for people who have ADHD,” David Giwerc, founder and president of ADD Coach Academy, explained in his book.

With practice, I’m learning to reconcile the following paradoxical behaviors and manage them, at least some of the time.

I can spend hours hyper-focused on a project, but I can’t start a load of laundry.

One of the reasons no one thought I had ADHD was my ability to concentrate intensively on subjects I’m interested in.

I can spend six hours investigating Charles Manson’s efforts at notoriety, but ask me to fold my clothes, and suddenly my brain becomes like a ’90s dial-up modem attempting to connect to AOL.

This is ADHD hyperfocus and hypofocus at work.

The first occurs when I’m doing something that excites my ADHD brain; the latter, when my interest is so low that I feel physically incapable of completing the dull activity.

The twin phenomenons of hyperfocus and hypofocus are misunderstood.

People without ADHD frequently believe we’re being lazy or rebellious if we can’t concentrate on the everyday. For over twenty years, folks have told me I only need to “try harder” or “focus more.”

That doesn’t work.

We cannot initiate hyperfocus or pick the times when it takes hold any more than we can “stop” hypofocus from developing.

ADHD minds are evolved to seek the most appealing stimuli at any given time.

This may lead to procrastination, my persistent foe.

As a youngster, I would sprint to complete a huge school assignment the night before it was due because I wanted to feel inspired by urgency. Adult me still puts off reports, exams, and taxes for the same reason.

That’s why I still frequently feel like I’m racing behind.

Working with hyperfocus, hypofocus, and its relative, procrastination, is tough. But I’m working on it.

Lately, I’ve begun taking pauses in my hyperfocus condition. When I complete this next portion, I will get up and do something else, like the three loads of washing I’ve been putting off.

If everything else fails, I set a timer to bring me out of the spell or ask a family member to disturb me.

As for procrastination, I construct a to-do list every day and split huge chores into tiny stages. Then, I handle each tiny step separately.

Take regular pauses, set timers, and divide tasks into little chunks to achieve progress.

I may desire to accomplish something yet shut down if it seems like an expectation.

I dislike being told what to do.

As a youngster, I would say no to every request. Now, I oppose everything from composing an email to shoveling the driveway.

It’s not that I don’t want to do the thing; I can’t when it seems forced upon me.

Every ‘you should’ or ‘can you’ seems like an assault on my sovereignty.

My ADHD brain interprets requests as a legitimate danger, but it might look pretty immature to someone who doesn’t understand it.

To be clear, demand avoidance is a basic element of being human. But it may frequently show up more in neurodivergent persons, in response to executive functioning, temporal sensitivity, sensory problems, and trauma.

It is also not the same as Pathological Demand Avoidance.

So, how do hyperfocus and demand avoidance interact? It’s intriguing.

Blogger Sally Cat PDA recounts how they replace one another.

If I pause for a moment, demand avoidance tells me it’s too tough and not to bother. Even writing this introduction needs hyperfocus in the face of demand avoidance.

In my experience, it’s also perfectionism. I tend to put pressure on myself to complete something in a given time limit. Then, demand avoidance sneaks back in to ruin my efforts and make the entire process seem unattainable.

But I’ve discovered a technique to “trick” my brain into relaxing and complying.

I tolerate the demand avoidance instead of battling against it.

That tense, nervous sensation goes gone when I no longer feel pressured to accomplish anything for myself or others. And I typically wind up doing what I was dreading anyhow.

Give in to your demand avoidance and be interested and loving, not judging. Find strategies to let go of the apparent demand and reclaim the feeling of control.

I enjoy an orderly, tidy atmosphere, however my home is messy.

I’ve never been an orderly person.

I recall my childhood bedroom always looking like a tornado struck it. My mom would have me clean every few months. I’d feel pleased when everything was in its place, but a few days later, everything was a shambles again.

As an adult, my challenges remained. I attempted various organizing strategies and purchased storage bins. I still avoided putting things away, however. I knew that if I did, I would forget they existed.

Instead, they dwell in different places: on a table, draped across chairs, piled carelessly, or ready to go in the closet. Nothing has its place.

I WANT to be organized. I appreciate minimalist houses and feel my best when I’m not surrounded by clutter.

However, ADHD executive dysfunction and poor motivation make it tough to arrange and keep things neat.

Part of the difficulty is how much STUFF we tend to acquire. Everyone does it, but ADHers are more inclined to gather or hoard items.

The more things we have, the more labor we must do to maintain everything in order.

I don’t purchase as much now, and I frequently question myself, “Is this a need or a want?” before I hit the purchase button. I also attempt to visualize where I might place the item. If I can’t think of a place to put it, I try not to purchase it.

I also make time to declutter at least once a year. If I don’t wear anything anymore or it’s well-worn, I give it. I also don’t declutter when I’m stressed or anxious because I tend just to throw stuff out and regret it later.

I will probably never have a pristine living environment, but that’s okay. I can find ways to organize that make sense to me.

Find organizing methods that work for you. Reduce superfluous purchases and declutter. And be gentle to yourself.

I adore beginning tasks, although I struggle to complete them.

I adore writing because I can start projects at my leisure.

Here’s the problem: I can’t finish most of them.

Even if I want to follow through and appreciate the concept I’m pursuing, my brain resists getting back in.

I come up with all sorts of justifications.

I don’t have enough time.

It’s not that good of a concept.

I need another application, notepad, or course for additional material before I start again.

But in actuality, it’s my old ADHD restlessness coming in. The dopamine rush from the new idea wears off and becomes familiar, so I latch onto the next idea that pops into my head.

This morning, for example, I was writing this piece when another thought suddenly occurred to me. So, I switched and began working on that one.

I have five drafts in the Medium draft cemetery for every published post, and they are waiting for me to resurrect them.

I used to get frustrated with this bouncing from project to project, but I’m learning to accept it.

If my brain wants me to read a long-form piece about ancient Rome, I will read it. If, instead, it says, “Hey, let’s write not the post you were working on but a totally new post,” I answer, “Sure, why not?”.

I’ve realized it’s fruitless to struggle with my head.

where’s not to suggest there aren’t any occasions where I must accomplish a specific activity at a given time or finish something by a deadline.

In such scenario, I’ve learned that I must oil the wheels a little by allowing myself some fun before I go to work.

Eat the Frog is a famous productivity trick, but it doesn’t work for us. Instead, we’re more inclined to avoid the hard thing and postpone.

As ADHD influencer Jesse J. Anderson argues, it’s best to Eat the Ice Cream first instead.

Interest-driven activity offers fuel for the ADHD brain, the type of fuel that helps you to push through more challenging tasks.

Load up on the nice things first.

Get your interest engine humming and use that momentum to push through the more challenging chores.

Sometimes, I warm up with a few minutes of a YouTube video or reading an intriguing article. Then, I may utilize that dopamine spike to generate momentum for the more laborious duties ahead.

If you must complete a certain chore, enjoy anything first. It will enhance your energy.

I can shift like a chameleon in social circumstances but feel alienated from myself.

I can be anyone you need me to be.

I’ve had this talent for as long as I can remember. In childhood, everyone praised my mom what a “lovely child” I was, not thinking that I would be throwing a tantrum when I got home.

Now, this skill comes out to play anytime I have to appear in public. I’m introverted and not extremely comfortable in big groups, but one-on-one, I’m fantastic.

I’m a fascinating conversationalist, weaving tales with flair. I’m told I’m quite charismatic in presentations and on TV. And my usual social struggles vanish when I must rise to the occasion.

I can charm, schmooze, and play the part of the gracious, charming me. But it’s an act.

I’ve discovered that I adjust to social settings by mimicking others. If they are serious, I’m serious. If they have a smart sense of humor, I immediately become quick-witted.

My personality is also mostly dictated by where I am. The person that shows up at the ice rink is substantially different from the version of myself that lives at home.

We all do this to some extent.

But for neurodivergent persons, it may be a survival mechanism in a neurotypical environment.

We learn from others how to behave and what actions are appropriate. Then, we get skilled at emulating them to fit in.

There is a disadvantage to this, however.

I’m so excellent at being who others need me to be that I’ve forgotten how to be myself.

All that copying unknowingly makes it hard to determine who I am at my core. I don’t know who I am or what I want since my identity continuously evolves.

Long-term masking may affect neurodivergent persons in numerous ways, but a lesser-known side consequence is a poor sense of self.

If others tell you you aren’t “good enough,” it’s simple to understand why you might construct other versions that are — even if they don’t represent the real you.

We also frequently internalize our ADHD symptoms and “failures.” So, we may assume they define us on a personal level.

Years of failure at conventional occupations made me self-identify as a “screw-up.” Social misconceptions further contributed to this persona.

The issue isn’t our ADHD symptoms; it’s how we interpret them.

Our perspectives may either help us accept our symptoms or enable them to continue harming us.

To establish a better sense of self, we must become more conscious of the tales we tell ourselves.

I’ve been working on this by telling myself that I’m not worse than everyone else; I’m simply different. I have distinct strengths and must learn to recognize — and appreciate — them.

Reframe your perceptions and question the stories you tell yourself.

I write with great skill, yet I can’t express my thoughts in conversation.

My greatest dream is that I could communicate entirely in writing.

Even as a youngster, I felt much more “together” when I wrote. My head whirred at fast speed, and my handwriting was a jumble. But I could write more plainly and eloquently than I could talk.

As an adult, I had to hold meetings and converse on the phone.

I realized, to my dismay, that I was lousy at this. I became agitated and overshared. I stuttered over my words. I frequently forgot my primary points.

So today, I prefer to converse in writing.

This isn’t always doable, of course.

If it isn’t, I compose a script for myself, particularly before key meetings.

Scripting is a typical method for neurodivergent persons to practice reacting correctly. I prefer to write everything that I’m thinking on a given issue to explain my goals. Then, I practice potential questions and responses with someone (typically my mom) so I don’t feel caught off guard.

Determine what kind of communication works best for you and strive to perform that type as often as possible. Find coping techniques to handle different sorts of communication.

I splurge, but I worry out when the payments come due.

“Do you have enough money for that?” my mom asked me a few days ago.

I was going to tap “buy now” on an item from Amazon.

“I have no idea,” I answered. And I didn’t.

Some individuals jump for an adrenaline rush. I check my bank account and experience the same anxiety.

In my teens, my mom discovered that letting me enter a Marshalls (or Target, or TJ Maxx) with a credit card was a poor idea. I’d go in for a plain black tee. I’d leave with that, plus a pair of jeans, stationery, pencils, socks, and a stylish new notebook to keep my other new ones company.

Online buying makes it worse.

At 3 a.m., my brain determines that some strange object — a new leotard, an esoteric book, or a weird writing utensil — is necessary.

So I purchase now, repent later.

Why is it so hard for ADHD persons to purchase responsibly? There are various reasons:

Executive dysfunction can make it hard to budget and track bills and their due dates.

Impulsivity makes us more likely to click “buy now” even if we don’t need it.

Time blindness lets us desire quick satisfaction without contemplating the future.

We seek excitement and a dopamine high. Shopping provides that.

A 2022 UK study found that adults with ADHD are four times more likely to impulse spend than neurotypical people. They are also three times more likely to struggle with debt.

Debt can be crushing for everyone. But for people with ADHD, the stress of keeping afloat might be severe.

As much as I like spending, I appreciate saving more. So I get very disappointed with myself if I spend more than anticipate and save ruthlessly.

As with everything, I recognized I needed more balance. I could buy stuff I needed, but I didn’t have to jump on every purchase simply because it was “on sale”.

Now, I wait 24 hours before making a purchase and discussing it with a buddy. I’m also becoming better at monitoring my money. My overspending has lessened too.

If you know you prone to impulse buy, get a companion to join you and keep you on track (or to debate online purchases with). Wait at least 24 hours before making a transaction. Keep a regular check on your bank account and keep note of transactions. And remember, you’re not alone.

I enjoy self-improvement and productivity, however I can’t follow through with new habits.

Productivity is one of my favorite topics.

It’s too bad I can’t ever manage to implement that information into my everyday life.

I’ve tried every productivity trick that makes its way into my email.

Pomodoro, Flowmadoro, Eat the Frog, Time Blocking, Don’t Break the Chain, and Bullet Journaling.

Unsurprisingly, I could not stay with any of them.

James Clear claims we need 66 days to form a habit, but for ADHD persons like myself, 66 days may as well be 66 years.

I’d want to meditate regularly but getting into a pattern is a continual battle.

I’ve got to recognize that it will always be the case. But it’s not impossible.

To-do lists help. Even writing down things that should be automatic, such as “put contacts in,” “check email,” and “check bank balance,” can remind me and keep me on track. I brain-dump every night before sleep, so the list is already written. Then, I can get a sense of accomplishment from checking them off.

From there, I identify the one thing I needed to do now. Then, I keep checking through the list.

I also utilize Tim Ferriss’ approach to identify which large work should be my focus that specific day.

Write to-do lists. Determine what you need to accomplish right now, at this time, instead than looking too far ahead. Identify the daily “big thing” that should be your priority and concentrate on it.

In conclusion, ADHD feels like being at continual conflict with oneself. But there are methods to cope.

When I was originally diagnosed with ADHD as an adult, I had no clue that symptoms could be so conflicting.

But it explains why:

I can hyperfocus on subjects I find intriguing. Yet, I avoid laundry and other boring tasks.

I am ambitious and want to do things but shut down when I “should” or “have to.”

I want a clean house, but I struggle to organize.

I’m a master at starting projects but equally good at abandoning them.

I can fit in anywhere, but I don’t know who I truly am.

I write beautifully, yet I can’t talk without getting tongue-tied.

I overspend but get upset about that overspending.

I love productivity and self-improvement. But I’m unproductive and can’t stick to new habits.

My conflicting symptoms can be a pain. They make things more complicated. But I choose to see the bright side.

My life may be crazy, but it’s never boring. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.