All of us, no doubt, have that one kooky relative who corners you at family gatherings to blab about some amorphous venture/project that never materializes. A friend of mine once told me that his uncle (who wasn’t a massage therapist himself) hand-built a massage table for women with large breasts. The table had two deep indentations to accommodate large breasts and prevent uncomfortable mammary compression. Supposedly, at every family gathering and every other possible opportunity, his uncle droned on about his grandiose plan to become rich through wide-scale manufacturing and distribution of this very niche item; to my knowledge, he never realized his lifelong dream. (Though, chuckling to myself now, I note that if his uncle actually succeeded, I’d probably be in the dark. For no rational massage therapist would direct small-chested me to this sort of tricked out massage table!)
About to turn fifty-one, I reasonably fear I’ll become that loopy, pie-in-the-sky kin who saddles up to you at every Passover Seder with details of her aspirational, unfinished novel. My ability to actually complete a novel in my lifetime is certainly tenuous. Most recently, my beloved therapist who has known me for nearly seven years bust out with: Listening to you, I am wondering if maybe you are not actually wanting to write this novel. Maybe you should focus on other writing. Though, I appreciated her politely-phrased suggestion (when a less patient soul would have said Get off your high horse and say toodle-oo to this phantom novel of yours), part of me felt saggy and defeated. After all, if my own therapist thinks I ought to move on, how can I, a late-in-life-diagnosed ADHD-er whose mind is like a nuked bag of Jiffy popcorn, possibly write, not just any novel, but a good one? Pray tell!
As I’ve learned, those of us with ADHD have lower dopamine levels that neurotypical people and this means we face difficulties with focus, motivation, and impulse control. It’s clear my body surely lacks something vital when I sometimes wake up early in the morning to root around bed for my phone and scroll through Instagram for new Korean restaurants, beauty products, tree house resorts I must visit, festive Fall Hudson Valley activities for my family and all the styling tips offered on Fashion Substack.
What bunk to stay up late in order to learn the difference between Hero and Capsule wardrobe items and click on fashion influencers’ flurry of links to coveted clothing and accessories that are noticeably often bland and uniform. All the dopamine release from my manic link-clicking, leaves me bug-eyed and hyper in the wee hours. Could my failure to invest in trendy barrel jeans, sheer skirts, suede bags, burgundy-hued everything and oversized blazers lead to swift sartorial obsoletion and a fast track to the shadowy, cold swamp of old age? (P.S. I’m not ready to be the dowdy, irrelevant Gen X woman in sausage- tight jeans and ankle socks!)
This common ADHD habit of reverse bedtime procrastination,” or staying up late to reclaim your time is certainly no good for my middle-aged bod. Props to the Autistic influencers I found on Instagram who offer some hacks/tips for those of us with ADHD who stay up late for quick fixes of dopamine. (With great interest as I have an Autistic son, I have learned that these two diagnoses of ADHD and Autism can look pretty similar.) One creative strategy to boost dopamine levels is to make your own dopamine menu or dopamenu, a word Jessica McCabe of How to ADHD and Eric Tivers of ADHD reWired coined for the practice of creating a list of activities that boost one’s dopamine levels and incorporating them throughout the day.
Apparently, “{t}he goal with dopamine is to enter a “flow state,” a mental state in which you are fully immersed and focused on a task.” (Quite reasonably, I associate flow state with the iconic Mountain Dew Do the Dew ad campaign. Also (for a fun digression and insight into my brain’s pinball associations), all this talk of flow leads me to the below song rapped by 16-year old Korean singer Cocona:
And check out this rap song I like a lot by Korean-American rapper Audrey Nuna: https://open.spotify.com/embed/track/5qJNNgDuLrIY2HcOvQwZRY
As I strive to flow more consistently, I decided to try this dopamenu strategy. (See below images for my quickly done dopamenu). You don’t have to draw images on your Menu as I have but it makes it fun for those who like to draw. (The examples I’ve seen online are mostly just words written in fun colored markers).
Appetizers are “smaller activities that provide a quick burst of dopamine when you need a little pick-me-up throughout the day. They can be thought of as “micro-moments” of joy that provide swift, easy-to-achieve dopamine boosts.” Examples are hobbies and meeting up briefly with friends/family. (Note, I put my main hobbies— writing and art making/seeing— as Mains because I want them to be significant daily activities that take up large chunks of time.)
- “Desserts are activities you indulge in purely for pleasure, which should be used as rewards following less preferred activities. The brain releases dopamine in response to anticipating a rewarding activity, enhancing focus and reducing feelings of restlessness.” (Note: I will skip this item as I probably don’t need to remind myself about the existence of social media scrolling and/or watching bad TV shows).
Finally, Sides are activities that make less desirable activities more enjoyable. Examples include listening to music, podcasts and audio books. (See the longest playlist of every song that I like right now, which keeps growing. Though my son has informed me that this is less a playlist but a disorderly amalgamation of hundreds of often deeply discordant songs, I love it. I bring my portable bluetooth speaker to do dishes, fold laundry etc. Without it, my house would cause me shame. What a Godsend!
I hope you try making a dopamenu and report whether it’s lead you to this ideal flow state! You can really have fun creating yours. Try adding textures, images of anything that makes you smile and/or smelly stickers etc.
(P.S. I note that making my dopamenu spurred me to end my long writing drought and write zealously at night so it’s already working!)
I readily embrace any ADHD hack that comes my way for I’ve found Vyvanse medication alone is not a panacea. (With all the complaints about social media, I am grateful for all the ADHD content that I gobble up greedily; I feel so seen!)
I wrap up this lengthy essay by noting how things have changed for young people/college students with ADHD compared to my youth. Recently, I had lunch with a friend who told me her son is off to college—armed with an ADHD diagnosis and voluminous accommodations that were not available to me during my college years. As I relayed to my friend, one winter at Carleton College, I faced a conundrum—execute a final paper of my own topic for my Imperial China history class in a few days time or possibly fail my class. The damn paper counted for a hundred percent of my grade and I’d slacked off all term—doodling and passing notes in class to friends like an impish middle school-er. (Shunning the mundanity of planning out my final paper, I could be found at meetings planning a student protest of pseudo-intellectual Charles Murray’s controversial visit to campus and/or staying up late talking to friends who, more gifted at time-management, had done their work on time.)
A few days before the deadline, quite overwhelmed and immobilized, I sat upright on my dorm bed as various friends took turns trying to cajole me to action. (I was like one of the Chinese Empress Dowagers I was probably supposed to be reading about in said Imperial China class, who sat on her palace throne on the eve of a violent coup—a flock of advisors at her side.)
As I’d procrastinated too long, I couldn’t fathom coming up with my own topic and executing a twenty-plus page paper in a few days. Even my sweet, be-speckled professor who made up in kindness for what he lacked in classroom theatrics/lecturing prowess, straight-out begged me in his office to try to slap something together; otherwise, he explained, he’d be forced to give me a D for the class. I watched him pace his narrow office, hands tucked behind his back. Blinking back tears, I shook my head—apologetic and exhausted. I had nothing to give. (Though I surprisingly often squeezed out A’s after tortured all nighters, that would only happen for classes that were supremely interesting to me.)
In hearing my sad tale, my friend told me, today, colleges would have accommodated me by not making my final grade dependent on one paper or if the final grade was based on one paper, there would be check in stages before the due date. So hurray for progress! (And to that little Empress (the beleaguered, college-aged me), I give you a warm embrace in solidarity. You were in the wilds alone and you did alright, considering.)
May you feel your flow, lovely people (neurodivergent or not)!
xoxo
Crazy middle class asian 