“I sometimes worry about my short attention span, but not for long…” — Herb Caen
If I had not raised a couple of kids with mild ADHD tendencies, I would think it’s a bunch of hooey, but I have lived it. When I was growing up, it didn’t have a name, at least not one we kids all knew. Still, there was always that kid in every class who was just a bit different, just a bit out there. Not in a bad way, just different.
Sadly, in the 1960s and 1970s, these kids were labeled “problem students” and were often shunted out of classes for “alternative” education, but at the time, no one talked about that. It was as if these kids, who, through no fault of their own, were just marginalized or forgotten.
Thankfully, it’s not that way anymore, and better programs exist for those with learning differences. It’s not a perfect system, but today, we have much better options for those who think differently, who need their own unique way of learning, and who are intelligent but have difficulty showing it. That’s progress, and while we are not fully there yet, we have come a long way.
I’m about to hit sixty years old, which I used to think was “elderly.” I have changed my mind on that because, in my head, I still feel like I did when I was twenty-nine; I’m just smarter now. I still feel youthful and energetic, at least for someone staring down the barrel of my own aging process with a bemused expression, muttering, “Senior discount? I’m not a high school kid. Oh, wait—never mind.”
As a person of a “certain age,” there are a few things I am still getting used to, like the creaking of some of my joints on cold mornings and my inability to have more than two drinks without suffering a massive hangover. Still, as a cancer survivor, age is a gift, so on I go, even if I do forget where I was going and what I was about to do.
I often wonder though, is it really aging? Honestly, sixty is NOT that old. If fifty is the new thirty, then well, never mind, that’s too much math for me. Could it be an attentional issue? Is it possible I have ADHD, and I don’t realize it? I can’t deny it; some days, I go about my work and daily stuff like a gnat on Red Bull. I think back to the seven hundred other jobs I’ve had since college and how efficient I seemed “back then.” Now I’m lucky if I remember where I put my glasses thirty seconds ago. I’m perilously close to getting a pearly chain to wear around my neck. Note to my friends: if you see me wearing glasses on a pearly chain around my neck, please pat me in the face with a shovel because I’m done.
Seriously though, I struggle with my attention span, and while it’s likely not ADHD, it’s something, and adjusting to it is a challenge. I’ve never been good with the organization of my stuff, my clothes, my home etc, but it’s different now. It’s like a case of social media FOMO, along with some mental issue that makes me stop work every few minutes to “Check Instagram one more time for that recipe I wanted” or Google something important like the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow (IYKYK.)
Whatever it might be, I’ve learned a few coping strategies. I write everything down. Like my comic book hero, Brenda Starr, Girl Reporter, I carry a notebook everywhere; it’s just not for the latest scoop. It’s so I remember to put gas in the car and take out the trash. I bought one of those clocks that show the date, day, and time in big numbers. I have apps that remind me of appointments and, of course, Post-It notes everywhere. It’s all I can do for now because adult life does not come with an IEP, and I’m not a celebrity who can hire a personal assistant.
Do I worry sometimes it might be more than normal aging, disorganization, or ADHD? Sure, who wouldn’t? And yet, so far, so good, in the sense that I remain employed, and nothing terrible has happened beyond a couple of missed appointments here and there. I might be less than ideally focused at times, but life is good, and I’m sticking with that for now.
Brenda Kelley Kim has lived in Marblehead for 50 years, and is an author, freelance writer, and mother of three. Her column appears weekly.
