With Swiss Cheese for Brains I Can Make an ADHD Sandwich

It's been a while since I've recorded the wonderfully happy life I have under the power of an ADHD mind. I suppose I have been rather busy home schooling, mastering the penny whistle, mastering myself, writing a picture book, a chapter book, and starting a novel, as well as doing art therapy and meeting life goals. I don't have time for Adult ADHD. In fact, I am not all about ADHD, or Depression, or Chronic Motor Tic Disorder, or Insomnia for that matter. I just happen to be dealing with those issues. I've found success by not hating myself while learning to laugh at myself - all in good nature, of course. I'm not in denial of the pains and burdens my disabilities are for my family. You won't, for example, ever hear the following conversation:

Me: Robyn, remember the time I was making ramen and I got distracted in the studio working? And I forgot about the ramen? And the water boiled away and the pan melted on the burner? Wasn't that hilarious!?

Robyn: Errr. Honey, for years after you scared me to death whenever you insisted you could cook.


Me: I can't even remember if I was wearing any pants. Hoooboy! Hahahaha!

I remember that day, and the look on the neighbor's face. She had come out to discover what all the commotion was about. She found me airing out the apartment from all the smoke so the fire alarm would stop blaring. For some time after I am certain she feared her life was in jeopardy every time I cooked a meal. But seriously, c'mon! That was only the third pan I had ever melted. It's not like that happened all the time.

Obviously, as I live I prove I have Adult ADHD. I can't escape it. All cheek aside, however, I honestly do remember that day, but I have found healing by making fun of it here in this blog (numerous times) and I am proud to say that I am a master of ramen now with nary a pan melted since the turn of the century.

I've developed almost neurotic routines to help prevent me from repeating stupid mistakes. I feel like an old man the way I pat myself down making sure I have my keys, my eyeglasses, my USB flash drive, my wallet, etc. (Actually, I forget my wallet all the time). Unfortunately, I am not infallible. Enter my MacBook.

Last Monday, and a whole week of healing later, I was at my daughter's voice lesson. I kept myself busy using my MacBook and when it was time to go I set it down to my right and then asked the teacher a few questions. Then I turned around, gathered my things, zipped up my sachel, and left. Hours later I discovered to my horror that my MacBook was not actually in my computer sachel. In a panic I called the teacher's home and arranged for his wife to meet me at the studio. Sure enough, I had left my MacBook there.

This was the second time I had left a laptop behind. The first time I left my computer sachel in the parking lot after buckling in my kids. I came back hours later to find it in the grass. Every pocket had been rifled through, but miraculously, not a single thing was taken. Not a journal, sketch book, Palm PDA, or iBook. For years I included my sachel in my pat down. And hey! It worked! I didn't forget my sachel.

Unfortunately, I absentmindedly zipped up the silly thing WITHOUT the MacBook in it. So stupid.

I could hate myself for nearly losing a $1500 laptop. Some might say it would be well deserved. However, I cannot allow myself that luxury. To hate is to invite Depression and low self-esteem and constant misery. The thing about all those things is that they tend to impair my thinking and make my life worse. So I laugh instead. And now maybe you laughed, too.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I can't remember if I shut off the stove.



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