Do You Relate to These Metaphors for Life with ADHD?
Compiled and edited by Cynthia Hammer, MSW
Imagine having a toddler in the room with you. The room is constantly messy. You cannot keep it tidy because the toddler keeps messing it up. You occasionally tidy the room, but when you turn your back, it is a mess again. You get overwhelmed with the chaos and cannot control feeling discouraged. It is a never-ending battle to keep the room tidy. I forget where something goes, or I forget something important. There is always something that distracts me. It is a depressing way to live.
Imagine you are reading an article online. You do your best to stay focused and process what you are reading. However, after every other sentence, a pop-up appears. You cannot close the pop-up and continue reading. Instead, you look at the pop-up until you realize that you are not interested in it and you were supposed to be reading the article. You close the pop-up and continue reading, but a few seconds later, there is another pop-up, and you do the same thing. My ADHD distractions are not external (like the cliché, "Ooh, a squirrel! ") It is my internal thoughts that distract me from my tasks.
My ADHD is like trying to touch the bottom of a swimming pool wearing a life jacket. It does not matter how hard I try or how badly I want to or need to do something; there is always something holding me back.
My ADHD is a glass barrier blocking me. I can see through it but cannot get around it or break through it.
I am a train conductor, organizing seven different trains all at once. Sometimes, for no apparent reason, they randomly switch tracks. The main train is on the main track, then, oops, it has disappeared, and a different train is on the main track. Then, the trains collide every so often, and I completely shut down until I get them organized again. ADHD is bloody exhausting.
I am reading something interesting, and, suddenly, out of nowhere, a part of my brain decides it is boring. No matter how hard I try to convince my brain that the reading material is interesting, it keeps nagging me to do something else. I call it my toddler brain because it always wants what it wants now.
Having undiagnosed ADHD is like training in 10x gravity for 25 years when a pill takes me back to 1x gravity.
It's like a Where's Waldo puzzle, and I literally can't find Waldo, but I stop to inspect the fire truck to make sure it has a hose.
My thoughts are like the steel ball in a pinball machine. They are smoothly rolling along, honing in on a thought zone when, PING! my thoughts bounce from east to west, north to south in a matter of seconds.
Everyone gets 100 marbles to carry around. You are a neurotypical person if you also get a bag to hold those marbles. If you have ADHD, you don't get a bag for your marbles. Good luck managing those marbles without a bag.