Never before have I come across a phase that so beautifully sums up how I think about my own brain! And this, for me, does it perfectly.
Life as an adult with undiagnosed ADHD is hard. I am not sure how life with diagnosed ADHD would be any better, maybe I will feel a shift from the negative connotations and labels that my behaviour has received over time.
But for the purpose of this blog post I need to forget all of the outside input and feedback my ADHD gets and focus more on what it is like for me.
This saying, ‘A Squirrel on a Treadmill’, paints such a vivid picture in my mind. I envisage a human sized treadmill with an actual sized squirrel. And I see the squirrel moving frantically to keep up pace with the every rolling road underneath his feet. But rather than just running in a straight line the squirrel darts from side to side. Bouncing off of the invisible bumpers that are the limits of the treadmill track.
Every so often the squirrel might let itself stop, in a hope of catching his breath, only to feel the ground move below him. Panic sets in! The squirrel feels completely out of control and feels that it only has one choice. To keep on skittishly pushing forward. In that moment the squirrel has learnt that stopping is not an option for them. Their only hope now is to keep on going.
Once upon a time the squirrel jumped on the treadmill with dreams of reaching some grand destination. His head was filled with the stories of a land piled high with the best nuts. Willingly the squirrel began his journey. Dreaming of this nirvana. But now the squirrel feels the exhaustion of their continual effort. Feels the pain from fatigued muscles.
Suddenly the squirrel is overcome with a new, psychological pain as they realise that, in spite of their gargantuan effort, they remain in exactly the same place. Sometimes, when they think really hard, they can almost convince themselves that they have inched ever so slightly forward. But this thought is fleeting and is followed quickly by the realisation that they may actually be slipping behind.
The squirrel's effort has not gone unnoticed and soon all of the squirrel's family, and well meaning friends come and watch this spectacle.
Some shout words of encouragement, some criticise form, others shout to the squirrel that they should just jump off the treadmill.
This just adds to the cacophony of sound inside the squirrel’s head. If the task in hand was not enough they now have to deal with all of this extra information!
The squirrel’s lungs are screaming. They so desperately want to rest. But if they do, all of their effort will have been in vain. All of this running would have been for nothing. How can they walk about having achieved nothing? The shame in that idea is unimaginable. Therefore there is only one option left. To keep on going. Things have to change soon, right?
What the squirrel has not noticed, so focused are they in their mission, is that there are now so many things neglected. Bills are unpaid. Dishes are piling up. The squirrel’s family look longingly at the squirrel. All they want is some of their time! But the squirrel remains oblivious.
As the pain and struggle of the journey continued the squirrel soon began looking for things to help them cope with the enormity of the physical and mental pain they were feeling. The momentary relief that these outside influences bought helped the squirrel escape from his own head for a time. Soon chunks of his run were things that they could not remember. There were chunks of the day that contained no physical or mental anguish.
What started as a curiosity, became a habit and that soon morphed into an addiction. The squirrel could not detach life from the addiction. The two had become so entwined that stopping was no more achievable than completing the run and getting to nirvana.
This tail paints a pretty bleak picture of my interpretation of life with ADHD and addiction. Writing these words out for the first time, I really resonated with the pain of both the squirrel and the onlookers. But this was my reality for so long in my life.
Unfortunately for me it took my whole life to break down. It took the treadmill exploding to make me see the destructive nature of my habits. It was only when all the pieces littered the floor around me that I realised that, put back together ANOTHER WAY, nirvana was actually something that was achievable. And I was already living in big parts of it, albeit with eyes closed.
I was oblivious to the fact that ANOTHER WAY even existed. I was so deluded that I had harnessed the super powers of ADHD, that I did not give any thought to the negatives. I could tell my life was chaotic and out of control, but I did not know how to jump off the treadmill. I did not see the path beside. I was left convinced that I would be metaphorically jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.
Time, being the teacher that it is, has shown me how wrong I was!
That is why I now write this blog. To show people that THERE IS ANOTHER WAY. To show the squirrel that happiness and fulfillment does not exist on the treadmill.
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