How to Support the ADHD-er You Love
According to my wife, as told by me.
Dear fam,
One thing you should know about me is that, in my best moments, I’m a damn ray of sunshine. Truly. I say this with no qualms about being overly confident because, to be honest, I’m actually pretty self-conscious about it.
One time, in college, I was so happy to see an acquaintance at a party that I leapt into his arms and hung off of him like a koala bear1. Was I close to this person? Not really. I can’t remember his name today. I’m also the person who goes back through emails to delete extra exclamation points, lest the recipient think I was high when they read my words. I can often be found either (a) jumping up and down, (b) rocking out in a public place, like a gas station, or (c) shrieking with delight because a song I like came on the radio.
I am, as the young folks say, a little bit extra.
My good fortune led me to a wonderful woman who thinks this is cute most of the time. I never feel too extra for my wife, and thank goodness. Because Lord knows I expend undue energy trying to contain myself for the rest of the world. If you ever detect me bouncing a little on the balls of my feet, that’s me not jumping.
But you know what’s even better than a wife who loves your tsunami-level excitement at the blooming of a tulip on an afternoon walk? A life partner who doesn’t make you feel guilty for all your less-than-great moments. One of the most common side effects of living with an ADHD brain in a neurotypical world is deep shame. This meta-analysis of scientific works pertaining specifically to women with ADHD shows consistent findings in many papers that all point to “notably low self-esteem and self-efficacy” in women with undiagnosed ADHD, as well as struggles with “negative automatic thoughts, feelings of shame, guilt, and self-blame.”
I was diagnosed in my mid-30s, so yeah, I can attest that these findings check out. Three and a half decades of not knowing why you can’t do all the stuff other folks can do (like be chill) can really mess a person up.
When I told my wife I’d be writing about a few of the ways in which she supports me she laughed and said there are a lot more than a few. She’s right! But these emails have length limits, so we’ll have to limit ourselves to three areas of support. I chose these because I think they’re the most actionable for other folks out there who may be trying to support an ADHD-er in their life.
1. Staying Unfazed in the Face of Chaos
Yesterday, when I looked out the kitchen window at our newly planted flower garden, I didn’t expect to see a swamp. Alas, that is exactly what I saw. This is because I’d forgotten to shut off the hose the night before when I’d been watering the garden. Thinking about it, this made sense — the water pressure had seemed wonky the night before in the shower. Now, though, all I could see was our newly purchased seedlings floating around in the muddy pond that was once a flower bed.
You know what, though? I didn’t panic, didn’t spiral into a swirling tornado of shame, didn’t fall apart. I knew everything would be ok because that’s the messaging my wife and I have been working on learning for the past decade and a half.
She knows I’m trying my best, even when I forget my wallet, or lose my phone for a few days, or leave the door open all night. This helps me to remember that I’m trying my best, too, even when my best looks a little different than it does for neurotypical folks. Here’s how you can show your ADHD-er you’re not ruffled by their missteps:
Stay calm. When you keep you voice and demeanor calm, it helps us to avoid catastrophizing.
Ask practical questions. Is it broken? Do you need help cleaning it up? Do you need a minute? These are actionable questions that can bring us back to earth. They also remind us that most things are fixable.
Reassure us. This can seem tough when we’ve done something totally wacky, but it’s crucial. When we’re lost in a swirling internal monologue about our inherent failure, we can’t move on. We also can’t help fix whatever happened. A quick, “Hey, it’s gonna be ok. I’m here.” can make a world of difference.
Stepping In When Things Get Rocky
As I’ve written (here), emotional lability is a major feature of ADHD for many, many people. This can mean mood swings, or a short fuse, or a tendency to be heartbroken one moment and exuberant the next. To the uninitiated, it can be confusing or even disconcerting to be around.
When you’ve been in it for a while, though, you begin to notice the warning signs of a major meltdown. And when you’ve been in a partnership grounded in trust and respect for a while, you begin to be able to express these signs to your partner.
A few weeks ago, for example, our Big Kid had a meltdown at the playground. The details don’t matter, really — she just didn’t have the emotional capacity to handle what was happening. So, she became a swirling chaos-machine. I carried her two blocks to our house, pushing Toddler in her kid-car with my available hand. For the entire two blocks, Big Kid smacked me across the face hard and screamed “YOU’RE THE WORST!”
When I got home, I was at the end of my rope. I yelled to my wife, who was working, that I needed her now. And, because I don’t do that unless it’s an emergency and she understands the meaning of emergency, she came right away. Took one look at me, and said, “It’s ok. Go.”
I went. I gathered myself. I returned. The whole time, I never had any doubt that my wife had my back. We know we can count on one another in moments of crisis, no questions asked; if it had been her coming through the door with red cheeks and wild eyes, I’d have done the same. I know she’s not scared of me, which is a huge gift.
Here’s how you can show your ADHD-er you’re not scared of their outbursts:
Help us step away. When we lack control, the best thing we can do is go somewhere to let the Big Feeling move through us. If you’ve had a conversation about stepping away before the Big Feeling (which you should), you can remind your ADHD-er to take a moment.
When we’re calm, talk about what happened. Not (!!) in the moment, when we’re blind with anger or sadness or whatever else. We’re not there. Wait until later, and then debrief without, and I cannot stress this enough, judgment. Trust me, we already feel bad about it.
Ask before touching. When we’re in the thick of it, our sensory selves are on high alert. Any Big Feeling like rage or despair is basically an iteration of the fight-flight-freeze instinct, so we’re deep in our animal brains. We may not react so well to a hug or even a hand on our shoulders, so ask before you come near.
Building Strategies for Success
When we first moved into this house, I kept leaving the door to the basement open. Which was kind of a problem, since Toddler was just learning to scoot around and could easily have toppled down the stairs. My wife reminded me again, and again, and again to close the door.
My brain is not so great with the habit building. In fact, one of the key impairments found in ADHD brains has to do with forming habits and routines. Basically, it takes us longer to make our brains remember a habit, and if we skip it even once it’s kind of back to square one.
Nonetheless, Toddler (née Baby) needed to stay safe. So, instead of making me feel like a pile of hot garbage by reminding me every time I got it wrong, my wife did three things I think are absolutely brilliant. Here’s what you can do to help your ADHD-er build towards a strategy of success:
Ask what we need, and offer suggestions. In this case, what I needed was a piece of masking tape that said “Close the door!” in bright purple, placed at eye-level on the door. We talked about it, and recognized that I respond well to visual cues. Since then, I’ve used the masking tape strategy to help me form other habits — locking the back door, taking my wallet, unplugging my phone charger. A partner-forward approach made it feel like our joint responsibility to solve this problem, not my brokenness to fix.
Let us know how you’re going to support. Yesterday, my wife told me she’d noticed I was leaving the AC on when I open windows. “I’m going to start reminding you about this,” she said, “so let me know if it gets annoying or I can say it another way.” Now, when she reminds me, I have context and, once again, a commitment to partnership on building this structure.
Offer encouragement. One thing all ADHD brains have in common is that we are thirsty for dopamine. When you say something nice, even the tiniest thing!, it encourages us to continue trying.
All of this may make it sound as though my wife is my caretaker and I am but a helpless, hapless person wandering around, held captive by my Big Feelings and executive dysfunction. In fact, the opposite is the case! I am, in fact, a very capable adult. With a neurological makeup that makes certain things more difficult.
Truthfully, the most important thing my wife has done to support me is to engage in a shift of consciousness — and that’s something we’ve done together. We recognize the areas in which I struggle, as well as the areas in which she struggles. This recognition is very matter of fact — her being better at scheduling and me being better at spontaneous water fights is not inherently good or bad. It’s just the truth. This shift in mindset, attained by talking things through for about 1.2 million hours over fifteen years of partnership, has helped me see my challenges as just that: challenges. Not failures. Not inherent brokenness. Not a sign of my wanton, slovenly, useless self.
This joint clarity also means we’re able to divvy up the household responsibilities without keeping a running tab of resentments. We each play to our own strengths and, when possible, we try to support one another in getting better at certain things. Sometimes that means she tells me I need to figure out a system to stop forgetting my keys. She can help, but ultimately — this is my responsibility to figure out.
Sometimes that means she accepts I will be losing my headphones 12 times a day and I accept she will not be helping me find them. We are who we are. We love each other — all of each other — even the annoying bits.
Sending love from my chaotic heart to yours,
Mikhal
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I know it’s not a bear. It’s ok. But it’s more fun to say koala bear. Try it.
Laughed out loud reading this and was reminded of when a new-ish acquaintance described me as "aggressively friendly" because I was too enthusiastic for her taste.