ADHD Summer
Standing alone in the kitchen staring at the plates piling up. They stare back. I know I need to put them in the dishwasher but my brain isn’t listening to me. My body won’t move, it’s frozen. I look down at my dog and he is staring at me waiting to see what I am going to do.
I snap back into reality and head to the couch. I turn the TV on but not to watch. I sit alternating between reading and playing games on my phone. I don’t notice the time. I don’t see the sun going down, I don’t notice the street lights turning on. I don’t notice the quiet looming in my house.
Until my spouse comes home. I hear his truck pulling into the driveway. The dogs get excited. Shit. I didn’t do the dishes. He is going to ask me the dreaded questions…
What did you do today? How was your day?
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What should I say? That I did nothing because my brain said so. That I thought about the dishes, that I intended to do the dishes, but I never touched them. How will he look at me? Will he be upset that another day has gone by of getting nothing done? The answer is always no. He will never be upset with me for not cleaning. He will say okay, let’s do them together. He understands I will cry if I sit and think about it. The guilt. The frustration.
The anxiety that was building the moment I took my medication from the morning had simmered down. We put music on in the kitchen while he cooks dinner and I clean the dishes. We talk about our day and how it was lonely without each other. The cats and dogs running around our feet. Animals are fed, our food is done, the dishes are clean.
We sit on the couch and watch our shows. We finish. We shower. We relax for the night. I tell him I’m sorry I didn’t do the dishes, he just shrugs. He knows I beat myself up more than he ever could, not that he wants to. He is aware that I think that I am the villain of my own story. He tells me to leave his wife alone and that I’m being mean to his wife. He’s right.
I lay in bed awake. Wondering. Why does my brain tell me that I have so many responsibilities to do in the house and yet, I can’t touch them. Is my brain not aware that I’m an adult? Does it not understand that I need to clean while we look at the dog hair tumbleweed bouncing across the living room and disappearing under the TV stand? Does it know that everyday doesn’t need to be a fight about the dishes, cleaning, taking a shower, or letting the dogs outside?
I’ve never understood why I can’t function like a normal adult. It’s because I am not.
