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Everything All at Once, All the Time
I need to do this, that, the other thing nearly all at the same time pretty much all the time. Trademark ADHD? A heavy dose is likely attributable to my hyperactive neurons and crisscrossing neural pathways. Interweave my hypervigilant propensities; (recovering) perfectionist tendencies; need for perpetual organization and task completion; and desire for visual reminders without igniting overwhelm, I can assure you snafus lie in wait. Snafus like cases 1 and 2 below.
Hyperactive neurons and crisscrossing neural pathways. Image by vat loai from Pixabay
Case #1--Everything all at Once
Here I am. Eking out this blog. Diligently coaxing my reluctant brain to coalesce around a topic and articulate relevant points. Eventually I’m in a flow, sort of. Until the dishwasher beeps. Fortuitously, I recognize it’s a completion signal rather than an error alarm. Normally I stop the machine before the dry cycle; I inadvertently let it go too long. Too many distractions this morning. Beep, beep beep a few seconds later. Through my closed office door, I hear the repeated beeps paging me. It needs to be addressed NOW. I’m hesitant to stop the blogging’s cerebral flow, lose track of what I’m doing, or where in the process I’m leaving off. Realistically, I won’t be able to concentrate if the beeping continues or anticipating the next set of beeps. The impetus to do the “other thing” intensifies. I save the document, and scamper to the kitchen, to the lure of that other thing. I’ll quickly knock it out. I start to unload the machine. Then things unravel.
Above the dishwasher sits the nearly full, smelly compost bin. Tomorrow is trash day. I better empty the compost. Should I finish emptying the dishwasher first or take the bin to the garage? My brain tries to sort through the distraction as I put away the flatware. Inner wisdom directs me to place the compost bin onto the floor [on the non-tripping side of the dishwasher] so I don’t forget to deal with it. Now, finish unloading the dishwasher. Cool, a plan.
Dishwasher is emptied. Water drops are wiped off the floor. I see the compost bin. I grab it along with the recycling and kitchen trash cans to prep for trash day. I deposit the compost and recycling by the staircase enroute to the garage to prevent forgetting them or making additional up/down trips. I go room to room emptying any trash into the large kitchen bin. I work my way back to the staircase. With all bins now in hand, I head to the garage.
As I dump the compost bin into the garage’s yard waste receptacle, I see branches and pine needles. Yikes, I haven’t called the arborist about the dying, tilting Cryptomeria tree. I need to remember to ask Jonathan to check on the spotted leaves and apples on the apple tree. Fingers crossed, it’s not diseased or infested. It’s already 95 degrees, and I haven’t watered the potted plants and the apple tree. I hustle outside to do that too.
Showering the plants reminds me that I’ve been intending to schedule a teeth cleaning and dental check-up appointment. Unfortunately, I don’t have my phone to call right now or to add to my e-task list. I make a mental note that there are 2 things I need to address (arborist and dentist) once I’m back inside. Actually, make that 3 things, the thing I was doing before I got sidetracked by the beeping dishwasher. What was that thing? No idea. It will come to me. Usually I leave clues for myself to help remember the action and where in the process I hit pause. I can chalk this up to too many things on my mind happening at once. I find it discouraging to forget what I was doing, even more discouraging when I can’t figure out how to do the things I know how to do because my brain is in a dizzying spiral like in Case #2. Muscle memory typically saves me, not always. Argh.
Case #2--Too Many Things at Once
Too much input saturating my already melting down brain. Too many items within my purview screaming “do me first!” “No over here, it makes more sense to do this first instead.” “Wrong! This is next.” Scenes like this happen when my brain is least able to handle competing commands like last Friday, linen laundry day. I barely slept, my allergies were intense, my brain was muddled. Surprisingly I remembered that Friday was actually Friday, and it was the morning to strip the bed and remake it. Removing the linens, no problem. Remaking the bed, a weekly ritual for most of my life, sent my mind into a tailspin. When the cerebral gears get stuck, remembering how to execute routines can be challenging.
There are only a few steps to remaking the bed with new linens. That morning, it felt like there were far too many choices. The procedure is well organized, yet my brain was stymied. I found myself literally walking in circles trying to calculate what needed to be done and how? Did I already take the clean linens out of the drawer? I usually set them on the corner of the night table. They weren’t there. They weren’t in the drawer. Where did I put them? Ah, they toppled onto the pillow pile. Do the pillowcases go on first or the fitted sheet? I wasn’t equipped to make decisions or take actions.
Are you wondering does the order really matter? Kind of, not really. Turns out, I did it out of the usual sequence. The pillowcases went on before the sheets. The reason the sheets and comforter precede the pillowcases is so that the newly covered pillows have a “clean” place to land. Until the bed was made, the pillows sat on the floor. An uncomfortable situation for my brain that craves process, order, and hygiene. In the scheme of things, it’s insubstantial as our pillows occasionally flop to the floor as we toss and turn. My limbic system wasn’t convinced.
Finally, the last step was arranging the assortment of decorative pillows. Of course, there’s an aesthetic order to placement. Friday, my brain couldn’t handle the resulting pile tossed from the floor onto the bed. I stared. I contemplated. I reconciled the situation by just telling myself, “grab one, doesn’t matter which. You can put the next one in front, behind, or next to it.” That’s how befuddled my thoughts were. Pillow arrangement was taxing. By the time I finished, I felt like I put in a full day’s work. My brain alternates between a requisite jumpstart and operating at warp speed, far too fast to figure out what to do and how to do it.
Cognitive Jungle Gym
Cases #1 and #2 were part of an uptick in cognitive dissonance. Could there be a correlation between menopause, allergies, my last bout of suspected covid (long story), and more frequent, intense mental confusion spells? I’ll let the doctors sort that out. I’ve read studies and heard anecdotes to support my presumptions. The Menopause Charity states, “When the levels of [estrogen and testosterone] hormones begin to fall during perimenopause and menopause, this can lead to a range of cognitive symptoms including memory loss, difficulty staying focused, word-finding difficulties (something I frequently experience), losing your train of thought and getting confused easily.” The Mayo Clinic agrees. “The hormone changes can cause symptoms such as…Trouble finding words and remembering, often called brain fog”. Alas, even though I feel as though my brain is often going off the rails, my suspicions appear to be on track. Don’t be alarmed by thoughts of dementia symptoms quite yet if you’re enduring similar symptomology. Your hormones [or lack thereof] might be messing with you, and you may need to mess about with them in return. Chat with your health practitioner for further guidance.
Even Mensas Get Confused
Setting aside causation, it’s hard to stave off self-berating, or at the very least, self-doubt in the midst of a brain scramble. When I get down on myself, stress levels go up. In turn, stress exasperatingly escalates the confusion and forgetfulness. One reframe I find helpful is to remember even Mensas get confused. If you’re unfamiliar with the High IQ society known as Mensa, to qualify for membership, candidates demonstrate an IQ measurement of approximately 132 or higher or score within the 98th percentile on approved IQ tests. They’re an elite group of the top 2% of the human population. I organized alongside two clients who identified as Mensa. Both professed moments of cognitive confusion attempting to execute basic household tasks. If Mensas get confused, I ought to cut myself a break.
My Guinea Pig Remedy. What's Yours?
I’ve been learning tons about chronic conditions. One sanity-saver is to use myself as an experimental guinea pig. It’s comforting to redirect my brain and body wrestling matches into an intention to use what I learn as an awareness and action guide for others experiencing comparable circumstances. In the thick of things, I need all the motivation I can find to move out of the spin. Altruism is an excellent motivator for me. Use whatever safe, effective tricks or means at your disposal to knotch forward.
Managing the Competition
How do I manage competing thoughts to stay organized and get through the daily grinds without totally flipping out? Admittedly during times of heightened stress, I do flip out. When
Add all that’s going on in the world to the mix, like many people, my reservoir is maxing out. Self-compassion and self-empathy is useful. Enhancing my toolkit to bolster these valuable traits is an on-going endeavor.
Back to managing on a rational level. Here are some ideas.
I hope you too find some comfort in knowing that
If you’re curious how coached organizing can help you address day-to-day challenges, let’s chat.
