Driving to Shippensburg one evening in the midst of a blizzard provided me with the perfect analogy to describe what it is like to be an adult with ADHD:
My hands were white and rigid, grasping the steering wheel tightly. I could feel the tension accumulating in the base of my neck. It took every iota of effort to steer on course as I strained to keep the van placed between the white boundary lines on Route 81. As I focused on the lines in front of me, they would momentarily disappear, obstructed by the large free-falling snowflakes bombarding the windshield.
As I struggled to keep the van in the center lane and to maintain my eye on the painted boundary markers on the road in front of me, I was captivated by the gracefulness of the large dropping crystals: They were bright and beautiful, a plethora of geometric shapes, each uniquely constructed.
I remembered very philosophically thinking:
“I am the only human present to experience the ephemeral joy of the singular snowflakes that are tumbling in front of me. When the snow-crystals melt, they will be gone, but I will remember their beauty. It is not possible for me to experience all the snowflakes that are within my vision, but I’m seeing some of the individual snowflakes within the encircling storm. If I crash and die tonight, wouldn’t my experience of life be much like the snowflakes? Not many would have known me, but to my loved ones my life would be remembered by a fragment of grace that has melted on their hearts.”
As I ‘m pondering this thought about life, I am viewing the individual snowflakes within the showering barrage of the blizzard, while struggling to keep the van on the road and my focus on the white boundary markers.
All this thinking and feeling; concentration and distraction; experiencing everything at once yet perceiving the detail; being bombarded and frantically fighting to stay on track, the intensity of everything: this is what it is like to be an adult with ADHD.
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