Dear ADHD Brain, You Left the Lights on Again

Living with ADHD often means leaving evidence behind. Maybe those cabinet doors and those socks in random places aren’t signs of failure, but signs of life.

Photo by Inspa Makers on Unsplash

There will be signs

Earlier this week, I found myself halfway down the stairs with my hands full, realizing that I didn’t have my phone with me.

I called out to my partner, saying I lost my phone (again!). A suggestion floated down the hall: call it with your watch. I raised my wrist and realized, nope, don’t have that either! I replied that it must be in the bathroom, and sure enough, that’s where it was. Along with a cabinet door, still wide open, I was informed.

My response was a hearty laugh and a “tell me your ADHD wife has been here without telling me your ADHD wife has been here!”

Wherever I go, there will be signs!

Shame of the trail

I’ve always left a trail wherever I go. Not intentionally, it just happens.

Cabinet doors left open. The oven left on. Keys dropped in random places. Sometimes, even things in the fridge that definitely don’t belong there. The list goes on.

I felt guilty every time my partner told me that I left a cabinet open or didn’t put something away.

Years ago, I remember craving just a few days alone, not because I was overwhelmed by people, but because I was overwhelmed by shame. I wanted a break from being watched, corrected, or silently followed by someone picking up my trail of ADHD chaos.

Eventually, I shared this with my partner. I believed the feedback about the trail that I left meant that I was putting a burden on them with my mess. That was never my intention, and I felt guilty. I wanted to be the partner who took care of my end of the bargain, not someone who left a mess in her wake.

That story was all in my head. My partner found these things quirky, even endearing.

We agreed that I’d do my best, and if I left a light on or a cabinet door open and my partner wanted to fix it, they would do it themselves. Things got done the way they wanted, and I didn’t need to carry the guilt any longer.

When did this become a rule?

As a kid, I used to get in trouble for leaving a light on or for the state of my room. My cleaning efforts were subject to inspections and consequences if it wasn’t up to par.

Combine this with our culture, which places significant emphasis on cleanliness and organization. “Everything has a place and everything in its place.” “Cleanliness is next to Godliness.”

Constant messaging about clean houses and perfectly organized closets. Tons of materials are pitched to us daily to help us “keep house.”

Why must it look like no one lives in our houses?

Somehow, a clean house became expected. It became a moral failing if things weren’t tidy.

I didn’t realize how much of that conditioning I was still carrying. I also didn’t realize how deeply I’d internalized that being messy meant something about me.

I do still clean when company comes over (typically in the hour before they arrive in a rushed frenzy that results in significant progress in just minutes!) But I’ve decided to care less about the trails that I leave, the evidence that I live there.

These days, I don’t beat myself up about the trail. But I do still laugh at it, because sometimes, that’s all you can do!

Socks in the fridge

Ha, I’m kidding. That hasn’t happened. Yet!

Today, I found my PJs neatly placed on top of my partner’s towel. Why? Who knows, but I put them there; it wasn’t an accident, but I don’t remember it. I threw something away in the trash (win!), but it was half hanging out. I cut open a bag and just left the top on the counter, not even thinking. I season dinner with gusto, and there’s always a mess of seasoning everywhere.

I have walked into the cabinets I’ve left open, tripped on a sock that, for some reason, the middle of the floor seemed like a good place when I took it off.

I lose my phone at least once a week, and it’s usually in silent mode. Thank goodness for the Apple Watch ping. I used to press that button and feel a wave of shame, because inevitably, my partner would hear it and know I lost my phone. But now it’s a funny event that we laugh at together, because predictably, it happened again!

Living your life as an ADHDer, these things are bound to happen. And that’s ok. Maybe you’ve got open cabinets. Maybe it’s keys in the freezer. Maybe it’s seasoning everywhere. Whatever your trail looks like, it’s not a failure, it’s evidence that you exist.

Brain Reframe

Instead of viewing the trail of ADHD chaos as a sign of failure, what if you believed that it was a sign that you’re here, living, being human?

Tell me! What are the objects that end up in your trail?

Messy and no longer apologizing,

Elizabeth

P.S. I’m an ADHD coach, and I help ADHDers stop feeling like they’re always falling short so that they can finally feel like they’re doing enough. If that sounds like something you need, Let’s Talk.

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