There are two particular situations in the life of someone with ADHD that strike terror in our hearts.
The first one is that point in time when we realize we were supposed to have been somewhere or done something or called someone at a certain time and we suddenly realize that that time is in that hazy grey area called the past.
Sometimes when that happens, there is as much of a sense of relief as there is terror. It depends on whether the thing was a “one of a kind” thing or whether it will be rescheduled and will now include chastisement for having missed the original.
But the other situation is worse by far.
It is so much worse that we haven’t means by which to measure how worse it is.
The other situation is like knowing you’re about to fall and being unable to do anything about it.
No, that doesn’t quite describe it. It’s like knowing you’re about to fall and that all you had to do was hold on and you wouldn’t, but it’s too late now …
That still doesn’t really describe it accurately.
It’s like … naw, I got nothing. Why don’t I give you an example.
I have a friend named Katy, a self confessed ADHD sufferer, educated, intelligent, witty, bright and quick. She’s a health care professional, and a writer, and an organizer extraordinaire.
Yes. She has that, she has it dialed up to eleven.
And she’s on Facebook, which is where we converse, because we haven’t actually ever met.
The other day she posted a status update that made me feel sympathetically terrified.
“Guys. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be somewhere tomorrow, at some point, and I can’t remember where, so if YOU know where I’m supposed to be this Sunday, can you please tell me.
And please forgive me for having no idea what or where it is”
I immediately went back in time to 2012 to a situation that happened to me.
A situation that is burned into my memory as “Wednesday at Ten!”
These things …
Situations like these happen all the time to people like us with ADHD. We miss things and forget things.
And every now and then we discover that we’ve missed or forgotten something in advance of actually doing the missing.
And when that happens, like watching a car wreck right before our eyes, we can’t tear ourselves away from it.
And even though we can’t fix it, we will worry the problem to death, struggle, investigate, hang our heads and ask for help, and eventually, long after the time has passed, we will let it go.
But I still have no idea where I was supposed to be on that Wednesday in March.