Thriving with ADHD
After two weeks of trying Concerta, I told my ADHD therapist, “Doctor, I definitely feel more energized, and I can focus better, but I still find myself getting distracted.”
“That’s discipline, Sanobar. Concerta can’t discipline you for you,” responded my therapist.
I paid 1000s of Dirhams to learn my lesson: Never go to a male therapist. Even if he’s handsome.
When you've been told all your life that you lack focus, intelligence, and discipline, it's easy to believe that you're fundamentally inadequate.
The self-doubt spreads like a malignant tumor, paralyzing you from performing even basic everyday tasks. By the time you reach your 40s, feelings of ‘lack’ and ‘incapability’ feel familiar, like home.
However, to feel worthy in my body and, in my mind, I’ve bravely started breaking old patterns to adopt some unfamiliar new ones. For the 2nd week of the
writing workshop, here is what I did to thrive:A Date with Myself
Every Saturday in June is a date I’ve scheduled for myself. I can’t show up mediocre for something that means the world to me!
Despite having less than 7 hours of sleep, this morning, I put on a bright saffron kameez (no attempt at making a statement on Indian elections!), applied an even brighter lipstick, and dug out my Turkish drop earrings with ruby-colored stones.
Stepped Out (out of my bed, my home, my comfort zone)
Our writer friend
has been beautifully sharing with our cohort, her effort to go out in nature. Mind you, where Tanya and I reside, the temperature hits 41 degrees Celsius before 8 AM. Just thirty minutes before our workshop, I hit downstairs to refill the bowls for our neighborhood strays.It might have taken me less than ten minutes, but try explaining that to someone who has spent a lifetime struggling to simply get out of bed, whose children have grown up watching their mother spend her mornings in pyjamas, being an absolute sloth in bed.
Each morning was a dreadful ordeal - a daily reminder with the first ray of sunshine that I’m incapable of adulting, but, I must.
Ladies and gentlemen, I was out of the house this morning, allowing the sunshine to kiss me awake! I smiled back at the sun in gratitude. A toothless, skinny black stray greeted me with a wag of her tail and a loud Meow. I reciprocated her cheer by leaving wet food in her bowl and refilling another water bowl for her.
Yes, it was merely 10 minutes, but, I stepped out!
Scent to stimulate my senses
I’ve been bitten by the aromatherapy bug these days. In fact, I may be close to becoming an Aromatherapy ki Dukaan myself. It’s interesting how reconnecting with oneself often leads to a deeper connection with nature, isn’t it? There’s this desire to get back to basics.
As fancy as it sounds, I am trying to ditch strong chemicals from my system and use essential oils to lift my spirits. For today’s workshop, I intermittently sprayed an uplifting sea-salt body mist whenever I felt my focus dwindling.
Brighten my Sight
To borrow a phrase from a fellow writer today, I used ‘sundar si crockery’ to treat myself to a lovely brekkie. I chose the wooden tray instead of a plastic one, and opted for a fancy white porcelain mug to accompany my clean black coffee. To top it all, I indulged in a Nutella sandwich.
I began writing with OSC almost two years ago, and every break would involve a quick Nutella sandwich simply because it was easy. But there's more to this seemingly simple ritual:
You see, during one of our early exercises, the Queen of the ‘Universe of Sensations’ -
- instructed us to grab something quick from our surroundings.For a foodie like myself, ‘grabbing something quick’ meant preparing a Nutella toast in under a minute!
Of course, Raju Tai was oblivious of my snack choice, much to the comedy of the situation.
The next few instructions from her involved engaging with the chosen object in a unique way: feeling it with your hands, smelling it, inhaling its scent if possible, and even rubbing it on your face.
Now, tell me, who wouldn't develop an unconventional bond with a Nutella sandwich after being prompted to romance it in such a way?
Outsourced Shame
Throughout my life, I've always been employed. On weekdays, a full-time live-in helper took care of cooking, cleaning, and washing while I was at work. However, when the weekend came around, my helper took a break, and I took over the duty to cook, clean and wash. This continued in my 20s and 30s.
In my 40s though, I decided that I deserved a break on the weekends too. So, my rebellion took the form of ordering takeaway brunches and dinners for my family.
This did not sit well with the Indian female in me. Or the expectations of my ancestors.
That's when I had an epiphany: Just because I have a helper who cooks for us 6 days a week, doesn’t mean I can’t hire a cook to prepare homemade meals for us the 7th day of the week!
It actually proved to be cheaper, not just healthier! I’m sure my ancestors are cheering me on from their graves: Shabbash beta! (Well done, you!)
All it took for me is to say, ‘Screw it!’ to patriarchy. Whoever made the connection between owning a vagina and cooking, clearly never experienced both!
Draw boundaries
This can be particularly challenging for any family, especially on weekends.
I don’t have a work desk. I occupy our dining table in the living room which I transform into my writing space. The upside to this arrangement is that I have the entire table at my disposal for my wooden tray, aromatherapy mist, my daughter’s rainbow-colored water bottle adorned with shimmery silver hearts, my copper water bottle to manage my thyroid, a scented candle, bags occupied by my cats, a brownie-cake, a pair of polka dot socks, my ADHD meds that fail to discipline me, and of course, my laptop, reading glasses, diaries, and pens/pencils.
The downside of occupying an open space means:
Naashta kahan hai? (Where’s the breakfast?)
Mamma, taxi bulana hai. I need your phone! (Mamma, I need to call a taxi. I need your phone!)
Madam, bachchon ne roti zyada kha liya. Aaj 10 nahin, 12 roti bana dun? (Madam, the kids have eaten more chapatis today. Should I make 12 instead of 10?)
Meow Meow Meow!
I’ve drafted a copy-paste response for every member of the family:
Shush! Guys, you know I’m in the middle of my workshop.
Nashta kitchen mein hai, jao khao! (Breakfast’s in the kitchen. Go help yourself!)
Shush! I’m working on discipling myself, can’t help you now. Later!
……..
It’s confusing, but, they’re getting it. They’ll survive.
It’s me who needs to understand.
In order for them to thrive, I must thrive.
Sabah .... Having patallel journeys here and figuring out what that awful word discipline means for me
Polka dot socks and nutella toast. Orange kameez and turkish earrings. Water bowls and wet food. Your writing, like your life, is a cellular organism; alive, vibrant and even then, a practise. Tumhe 22 topon ki salaami behan! Fuck every doctor that says we lack discipline. In the slowness of sloth-y mornings, our minds have cooked up a storm, our hearts, a universe.