Down and out in Rotterdam

Ideas, meaning and a mind in motion

Tag: Creativity

  • A State Shift

    A State Shift

    Last weekend I had an interesting mix of highs and lows and lessons learned. On Saturday I closed off a busy week with a Shabbat service in synagogue. Praying and meeting with the Jewish community on a weekly basis really grounds me and gives me peace. But for some reason after the Shabbat service I felt low and restless and lonely. I had no idea why. I always break my head over the why.

    Sunday morning didn’t offer relief. I woke up with sleep inertia, the only reason I woke when I did was a fight between my junkie upstairs neighbor and his unwanted guest. After getting up to see what the hell was going on, I returned to bed to lie down some more. I sensed it wasn’t going to be a good day either.

    I had to take my ADHD medication to at least get through the rest of the day, so I moved to the living room and took my meds with some Skyr and put on a Netflix documentary. I tried to make sense of my state. I tend to monitor my mood closely. I also shared my rather sorry state with my friend N. I often leave her a voice note which I jokingly call a podcast, because I am not good in short and pointed reflections.

    Just about the moment I decided to get up for some coffee outdoors, to at least make something of the day, a terrible tiredness came over me. I didn’t fight it, hell, I had nothing to do anyway. I had an amazing nap lying sprawled on my sofa in front of the TV with Netflix running in the background.

    When I woke up, the state I was in was completely reversed. Away was the fog. Away was the sadness. Away was the doubt. Away was the pessimism. I felt an enormous relief. Perhaps it was a combination of the meds and a much-needed rest. I wasn’t even aware I was sleep deprived. But clearly my state shifted drastically, I regained access to a more open version of myself.

    And so I ended up, sitting in Starbucks writing this on my Chromebook. I didn’t type the first draft as an editor. I couldn’t care less about form. I was in a creative flow, riding the wave.

    I wanted to end this reflection with something else. Before I sat down to write this piece, I texted all my most important contacts. Some I might not see or text in weeks. I texted my brother, I texted my sister-in-law, I texted my parents, I texted a friend. I suddenly felt a deep sense of gratitude and connectedness.

    I feel I should be clear that I wasn’t experiencing euphoria or some medicated high. It was just that moments earlier I was witness to my state dramatically shifting. It showed me how state-dependent living with ADHD can be. When I don’t have access to this positive state, or when doors in general are closed, I can’t for the life of me open them. All I can do is wait. But when the doors do open, when I have access, I become a social, creative, optimistic person who believes things might actually work out.

    I am not a negative person. I am not anti-social. I am not even depressed. I am beginning to believe I might just not have ready access to certain states the way I’d like to. That’s something I might have to accept. But knowing and understanding the mechanisms at work gives me the confidence I might get some control yet.

  • A Window Opened

    A Window Opened

    The last couple of days have been hard. I am simultaneously trying to tackle different aspects of my life. I assumed writing would offer the perfect outlet. But I did set the bar too high.

    I discovered I can’t deliver a steady output of well-thought-out stories and reflections that feel both well constructed and alive. But these days of struggling creatively did teach me some valuable insights into how my ADHD brain works.

    The reason I assumed I might actually pull off my ambitious writing goals was my steady flow of ideas. I produce ideas by the dozen. Thinking through ideas is second nature to me. No matter what I do, I have a constant flow of ideas running in the background, occasionally interrupted by an immediate task at hand.

    But having ideas and keeping them is a different matter.

    I never really recognized myself in the textbook inattentive ADHD type. The person constantly losing keys or missing appointments, forgetting to do a task or getting distracted mid-task. No ‘hey, look a squirrel’ for me. I pay attention and can sit quietly at my desk for hours. I did not have inattentive ADHD.

    Or so I thought. My renewed attempts at writing coupled with the knowledge of my recent combined ADHD diagnosis helped me discover something at the age of 45. It always starts with a spark. An idea can pop up spontaneously, or it can be triggered by a WhatsApp message, or an article, or the news, or something I read in a book. But not just any idea will do. It is often linked to a problem, a frustration or an irritation. Something that just doesn’t seem right or doesn’t make sense. From that initial spark, ideas and connections start to form. In my head I construct a constellation of ideas and associations that can become quite elaborate as long as it feels urgent and more importantly, as long as I can keep it ordered in my working memory.

    All is well when I am just thinking for the fun of it and just dream a little while doing a boring administrative task at my day job. Sometimes I share the idea with a friend, sometimes I just go on with my day and forget about it. Not urgent.

    But recently I set myself the task to put my ideas and thoughts on paper. To share them with the world. I want to practice preserving my insights. I want a record of my thoughts. To have something tangible to look back on. That’s when I am confronted with my inattentive ADHD. I need to act fast. I need to hold the whole picture or structure and save it in a document before I lose focus and the structure falls apart. Any slight loss of focus and I lose an idea, or an aspect of an idea. If I have a whole train of thought – A, B, C, D and E – and I get stuck on B, I might lose C, D and E. If I run out of battery or urgency after 30 minutes I lose everything.

    The ideas never disappear completely, but my access to them is severed. Only a new spark, a new trigger can start the process anew. This spark might not come any time soon. I have no control over the doors or windows. And every day I start with an empty working memory. All doors are closed, until a door opens. I can go through that door, but I can’t be sure what I will find behind that door.

    Building a daily routine works much the same way. Every day you have to consciously focus on the thing you try to make a routine. Every day feels like the first day of your life. But apparently the same holds for ideas. At least that’s how it works for me.

    Still, this post was written almost in one go, in a café on my new Chromebook. After days of closed doors, struggle and unused ideas, a window opened.

    I just don’t yet know how.

  • After the breakthrough

    Writing my first post in years last sunday felt like a huge breakthrough, I was so convinced of recovering my voice. I had big plans for this blog. Since sunday I was confident I had recovered something essential. Something sustainable. A never ending source of sustenance and accomplishment.

    The start of the week was hectic, I had no time to sit down a second time, but I was confident I could. Then this morning happened. I woke up with a brain fog. I had big plans for a healthy breakfast. I had prepared the groceries, I had the clean pans. But I just couldn’t put myself to do it. I settled for a bowl of Skyr and walnuts. Less friction.

    I logged in for work on my home computer, but all I could do was check the news, sip my coffee and stare out of the window. It was a gray and wet morning. I had to do something to get started. My medication wouldn’t kick in for at least two hours. I had to warm up my brain.

    So I did what I often do when I am stuck, I discuss ideas with ChatGPT. That’s my go to selfregulation method; thinking out loud, testing ideas, and trying to understand my state of mind in real time. Creative and analytical thinking is my most readily available method for jumpstarting my brain.

    As I warmed up I forgot about the failed attempt at cooking my breakfast. I could forgive myself for wasting two hours sitting at my desk doing nothing and I actually felt that this day might yet work out after all and I had some new ideas for a second blogpost.

    Fast forward to this evening. I decided it was time to deliver on my morning promise to publish a new post. Only to immediately lose focus as I wandered into my unpublished drafts. Over the years I had many of those. I opened one, I opened a second, I opened a third. And down went my mood and with it my courage.

    This post is not what I had in mind for my second attempt. It is however a good snapshot of how my day went. Living with ADHD means that even after a breakthrough, the next moment can feel completely different. It is so easy to get disheartened.

    Yet this is it. This is my second post. I sat down and I persevered and I pressed publish.

  • Late-Diagnosed ADHD, or 2.0 me.

    My last published blogpost was from 2022. Even then my creative well was already long dried up. Since then four years have passed. I am a 46 year old bachelor.

    My last decade was a long decade of stagnation in a time in life when you’re supposed to make serious steps in creating a life. Important years to build a career and cash in on your Academic achievement. A period to find a partner and create a home. A period also to live and make the most of your relative health and youth, but with hopefully a bit more spemding power.

    I did none of that. I struggled most of that decade just barely hanging on. I dated occasionally, I had employment most of the time, a roof over my head, physical health (God bless), but I was surviving and struggling getting to grips with myself. Many moments I just assumed I was depressed. I took antidepressants. I did some therapy and they assumed I had a personality disorder. I almost believed they were right. Almost.

    Luckily I couldn’t accept my life as it was and didn’t want to give up trying. This was not how I wanted to waste my years. I took up therapy one last time, a hail mary before resigning myself definitely to my fate. That’s how I discovered I have lived 45 years with untreated ADHD.

    There is much more to write about the whole experience and I will in future posts. But what I will share now is that the diagnosis fits. Initial healthy doubts slowly faded away and since I started on lisdexamfetamine medication I am absolutely certain.

    So here I am, after an initial adjustment period in which the medication mostly helped me relax and recover from years of fatigue, the stimulant is stimulating. And so after 11 years of draught the well is ready to spill over. I am thrilled and excited and I will share my late diagnosed ADHD story. If only for my own catharsis. And hopefully maybe it will find a few fellow ADHDers and help them too.

    God bless