Basket Case

The Anatomy of An Anxiety Meets ADHD Meltdown

Yesterday was a Level 8.5 -9 anxiety/ADHD day.

It began as a rough ADHD day, which led to anxiety about not doing “enough,” and not doing the “right” stuff.

By 6 p.m., my anxiety ramped up until I was at Level 9.

(I’m pretty sure Level 10 is my ears actually blow off my head and someone has to put them in a bag of frozen peas and take us all to the hospital.)

So Level 9 was full panic, and an urge to hide until I could remember how to take a deep breath.

Trophies for Trying

I’d like to collect my trophy, though, because I did try all the things yesterday.

I mean first I tried to just push through, but then I tried all my tools and tricks and then finally, FINALLY, I realized that it was all too much, and that I needed to rest, so I said “I think I need to rest,” but then I still tried to do one more thing, and then I finally made myself a little snack and a cup of tea and went to lie down.

ADHD … Ahem

I ate my snack, and sipped cinnamon tea and chugged some water and then I snuggled under my weighted blanket and I wrapped my weighted eye mask around my head and then I put in my noise-cancelling earbuds and listened to a meditation.

And that worked pretty well for about 15 minutes, and then ADHD cleared its throat.

It tries to help - it really does.

I don’t know if they still do this, but remember when the advice they gave to preschool and Kindergarten teachers was give the disruptive kid a “job” and call them your “special helper?”

So ADHD popped up yesterday with an idea!

In an effort to calm my anxiety, I should give it a “special job” and that job was “fix the pantry.”

My anxiety LOVED that journey for us because it was something we could CONTROL!, and so I went back downstairs and started pulling every box, jar and can out of the pantry and sub-pantry (I live in an old house, not a fancy house) and then began “grouping like items together.”

Baskets

“Grouping like items together” has been my entire organizing strategy since I attended a mom conference thing 20 years ago and heard an author speak about her book.

She said that they key to an organized home was to “group like items together,” and my brain heard:

BASKETS!

Somehow, at age 27, I already owned a bonkers number of baskets, and now I knew what to do with the baskets.

‘Open Storage’

When I learned that I have ADHD last year and started on medication, it was mostly wonderful.

The clarity that I get most days from taking medication is absolutely worth the hassle of calling seven Walgreens locations every month looking for a place that has my medication is stock because there is a nationwide shortage.

My meds usually work really well - so well, in fact, that after a few months on medication, I started looking around my house and began trying to fix 40+ years of executive dysfunction and Out-of-Site-Out-of-Mind home care at once.

That’s when I noticed all the freaking baskets.

Everything that wasn’t in a basket was in an open, plastic decorative bin - the less glamorous and yet utilitarian cousin of baskets - the Crocs of organizing.

My house was entirely compartmentalized, and yet, it still felt overwhelming now that I had the energy to actually care.

So one day, I took a 365-degree video of my Batcave (office) and sent it to my friend Jenn because I really am just a Baby Jell-O Legs Old Lady.

Jenn, who trained as a professional organizer, kindly pointed out that I was using a lot “open storage.”

YES! I immediately thought. That is the exact problem!

And then I Googled “open storage,” because I actually wasn’t 100 percent sure what that meant.

So open storage is just storage where you can still see all the stuff.

That can be not great for some of us.

Jenn explained it perfectly for my tender newly diagnose ADHD brain: She said that when you use open storage, your brain is still processing all the things but when you used closed storage, your brain sees one thing and it’s boring and doesn’t change, so you brain says: “who cares?”

Outer Calm, Inner Calm and Shallow Graves

And so I went about gently reorganizing the Batcave, using almost entirely stuff we already had except one three drawer plastic thing from Target that is NOT see-through and was only $27, a small price to pay for not wanting to claw my eyes out anymore.

And then - this was bumpy …

Then I carefully took most of the knick-knacks and doo-dads that my husband has so lovingly purchased for me over the years, and I wrapped them up gently, and buried each in a shallow grave.

Not really.

I put them in a non see-through bin, and then I put a piece of duct tape on the bin and wrote “K Office” and the date because Jenn said “add the date, you silly bunny,” because somehow she knew that my basement was already full of bins of stuff, which is a problem for Future Me.

I struggled with packing up the Golden Girl Pez dispenser and MacGyver Funko Pop!, because I didn’t want to hurt my husband’s feelings, and yet, I was learning that I am one of those outer calm = inner calm people.

A ‘Good Wife’

So that brings me back around to yesterday, and my effort to “fix” our Pantry Situation, while my anxiety was at an 8.5.

The dog barked at a squirrel and I shrieked, but still, it was definitely time to sort dry goods.

And I know how to organize, you guys.

I bought that author’s book.

And so, what did I do?

All together now …

I “Grouped Like Items Together.”

I started this on the counters, but we have a small galley kitchen so pretty soon I was grouping on the stove and then on the dining room table and then …

I froze.

I powered down like an 80s robot.

I couldn’t take a next step - there were no next steps - just boxes of mac and cheese and granola bars and failure and overwhelm and so I pulled out my phone and I noticed my hands were shaking, but that’s kind of common for me anymore, and I texted my husband.

I wrote: “I am having a really tough anxiety and ADHD day and I tried to organize the pantry and now I’m stuck and crying.”

And he said:

“OK. Can you try to rest?”

And my first thought was maybe I should try that again, and then ADHD gave it one more try and whispered “bassssskets,” and by then I was sobbing because I wasn’t 46-year-old me anymore, I was 16-year-old me and 6-year-old me and they were both reminding me (and I know how this sounds, believe me) that a “good wife,” has the house picked up and dinner started when her husband gets home.

I know.

Bone-Deep + Generations-Deep

So I made myself put down my phone and take three deep breaths and then count all the blue things that I could see, and then I started to think about how I actually felt, under layers of training and trauma and coping and judging how I felt about how I felt.

And then I texted Jenn and said, “I cannot today,” and she responded “Then do not.”

My upstairs-downstairs basket. I use this to lug all the things between my two main life spaces - my Batcave and by bed. Inside you will frequently find: a book or three, a notebook, pens, a highlighter, multiple pairs of reading glasses, book darts, earbuds, lip balm and a snake bite kit. Just kidding about the last one.

And so I took my upstairs-downstairs basket up to my bedroom, and I tried all the calming techniques I’ve learned, I really did, but then I heard the back door and I heard my husband’s feet on the stairs and I felt a bone-deep, generations-deep need to “explain.”

And yes - the reasoning part of my brain knew that he wasn’t going to hurt me. But that part wasn’t in charge in that moment.

My survival brain was. The part that still has a fear of upsetting a man.

Impressive Piles

And so I cried. It’s my new thing.

I don’t hold stuff in anymore, and so afters years and years all the secrets that were stopping everything in my throat are finally loosening, and now the sobs and wails can maneuver their way out.

I couldn’t explain all of this in that moment to my husband, who put his hand on my back, and then quickly pulled it back because I flinched …

(It’s been almost 30 years since someone physically hurt me, but I flinched.)

So he tried something else. He said, “I know you think things are a mess, but actually, I noticed that everything is grouped together in nice little piles.”

“Piles,” you guys.

He wasn’t mad.

He was impressed by my piles.

Sandra in Sequins Saves the Day

And yes - I know it is still a BIG problem that when I saw he was not mad, I started to feel better.

But let’s worry about that later, OK?

(I still have a LOT of basement bins to unpack, if you know what I mean.)

Because then I felt like I could breathe again, and I decided I was going to eat some leftovers for dinner, and everyone else could figure out their own dinner because they are 17 and 49 and very capable humans.

And then I turned on a Sandra Bullock movie where she was dressed in a sequin onesie for a lot of it, and Channing Tatum was there and the bad guy was full-on BAD and the good people overcame, and then the credits rolled and I wanted to check on my family.

Let’s face it - I wanted to apologize - because it was like I had been factory reset and my default restart language is apologies.

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Postscript:

I wish I could tell you that I have found the solution to really bumpy mental health days. I really do.

A lot of yesterday was me asking myself: “What can I do that will help?”

But also, I realize now that nothing was going to truly help, because I wasn’t allowing myself to stop and do what I needed, which was to stop trying; stop pushing through.

Also, I was scared. When I have a really bad day like that, I start to get terrified that “this is how it is now.”

But I’ve been dealing with anxiety for a long time, and I can say that I have never gotten stuck at Level 9 for more than an hour or so.

At some point, the panic always abates.

I’ve researched this, and I’ve learned that our bodies literally can’t stay in a panic state forever.

So yeah - I wish I could tell you that I’ve figured it all out - that I’ve learned to overcome bad anxiety days and you can too …

I think instead, I’ll just tell you that today is better and brighter.

I know I still have so much to work on, but I feel a bit like Sandra Bullock in the movie from last night - I am gather clues and getting closer …

I’m not waiting for a rescue; I’m saving myself.