Navigating disruptions (with ADHD and CPTSD)
As someone who is highly sensitive, who has CPTSD (Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) and adult ADHD (oh yes, and also Fibromyalgia), disruptions to my regular routine can really throw me out of whack. Anything from small changes to my routine, to over-extending myself, to having to ‘people’ for extended periods of time can really bring me undone. The past few weeks have been a real challenge for me, and I’m navigating my way back to sanity.
The past few weeks have been full of people. We have had people staying with us, and while I actually loved it, and I loved seeing these family members and enjoyed our time together, the way my nervous system is wired, I can’t ‘switch off’. Throw in an additional renovation (loud noises, interruption of my workspace, and the general chaos of having all of my tools and resources in boxes) along with a physical injury, and let’s just say that these pressures don’t feel like they’re one on top of the other—they feel like they feed each other, like each individual pressure meets the others and then makes baby pressures until there are not just cracks in my foundations but giant crevices that I fall into and hang on by my fingernails.
Here’s what I’ve learned so far.
Having guests, CPTSD, and ADHD is difficult in general. People in my space mean I attune to their needs and often ignore my own. The CPTSD means I’m hyper-alert, and while I use meditation and mindfulness to self-regulate, whatever way you look at it, it’s challenging. It comes at a cost. One I was quite happy to pay, mind you, but I think having the additional challenges really compounded the effect.
Having renovations and my work routine out of whack, trying to be patient while not being able to meet my obligations to my patrons (though I will, it’s just not at the speed I would like to) has put pressure on me that, while I’ve tried to put in its place, I can’t seem to shake. Right now, even though the studio is in the middle of having walls built, while I have a week or so gap, I have built a makeshift desk and set up my computers so that I can at least function in some capacity. Having my setup all over the place doesn’t help the ADHD. I rely so much on things being in their place, having a predictable setup and structure and routine. It helps me to function, and when things are all over the shop, so is my head. I forget more things, I can’t seem to work on my normal schedule, and everything feels a hundred times harder.
Having an injury that has stopped me from playing my instruments is not ideal. Not only does it feel like my creative output has been hampered, but I feel scared and uncertain. I’ve been diagnosed with carpal tunnel, and I’m having to rest from my usual activities, doing stretches and nerve glides several times a day and praying to God that this settles and I get my normal hands back. I’ve been struggling to do normal everyday tasks, and I keep banging my hand accidentally and dropping things. It’s stressful. It’s making simple things hard. Typing up my assessment was torture. Typing, in general, is harder, and my left fingers go numb, making me acutely aware that I need to stop soon. I’m constantly fighting two sides of myself—the side that says push through and get things done versus the side that says listen to your body, you need to slow down and you need to rest.
It’s been overwhelming. I keep banging my hand into things, hurting myself, dropping things, and getting frustrated and angry. I know I’ve just pushed myself past capacity and I need downtime, but at the same time, I just want to get back into my routine because that’s where I feel safe, solid, and sane. I want my stability back.
When I have these struggles, sometimes I get so much guilt that I can’t handle disruptions like a ‘normal person’. I get frustrated that I can’t just take these things in my stride as if nothing has happened. I get frustrated that I’m frustrated. That frustration makes it hard for me to focus and settle when I’m already unfocused and unsettled. It makes my self-care routine feel entirely inadequate. I don’t want to sit and journal. I don’t want to go for a walk. I just want to be able to work and get things done. That said, I know the importance of self-care, especially when I’m struggling. So I forced myself to journal this morning, and after having a huge whine on paper, a sentence stood out: “I need to move”.
You see, while all this has been going on, my exercise routine has gone out the window. Being injured, I haven’t gone to the gym. Having people here has meant I’ve not taken the time to bugger off on my own and go swim some laps. I was fine while people were here, focusing on them and trying to make the most of my time with them. I was distracted. It was only when they left that I really felt the compounding effect, and I really hit the wall. Fibromyalgia doesn’t help with that. I get whole-body aches and extreme brain fog. I feel dumb. Thankfully, my mindfulness meditation practice has been really helping to reduce the stress levels. While I’ve been struggling, I know that this level of struggle does not compare to how I would have managed this a while back. I’ve been able to sleep. I’ve been able to not completely mentally and physically burn out. However, I’m acutely aware that I’m holding all this tension and pressure build-up in my body, and there’s only one way to get it out: move.
Mindfulness meditation has been incredibly helpful the past few weeks. Rather than that frustration spiral taking over, I’ve been able to interrupt it a few times. Noticing that I’m frustrated, noticing I’m angry and upset, and accepting it instead of getting frustrated and angry about my frustration and anger is a lot easier. It doesn’t compound as much. I’m practicing accepting myself and my emotions and even my own internal struggle. It does take the sting out a bit, even if not fully. I’m only starting on this journey, so I’m getting glimpses, not the whole shift just yet. Radical acceptance and offering myself grace and permission to feel whatever it is that I’m feeling without trying to fight it has possibly been the key to this not turning into a full-blown fibromyalgia flare-up. Recognizing that my challenges are real and valid, and that I do have extra to contend with and giving myself a little space to do that, has been important. The guilt for being so sensitive is not as heavy, and often I am able to let that go entirely. I am who I am, I feel how I feel, and I struggle with what I struggle with. I can only do my best at any given moment.
Other things that have helped over the past few weeks have been painting, listening to music, and occasionally just taking 5 minutes out and away from people through the day. Using my noise-canceling headphones and doing mindfulness meditation to regulate my nervous system has helped. I’ve painted some birds, and I find that painting (even though I’ve dropped my paintbrush several times) is really mindful and helps me to tune out the pressure of all the impending ‘to-do’s. I’ve also asked for help more (which is entirely out of character; I much prefer to do all of the things all by myself and this has been humbling but educational and I might actually practice asking for help more often). I took the night off work because I was so spent and didn’t think it would be fair on anyone for me to show up to work like that. I could have pushed through, but that would have been too much, and I would have paid for it (or someone else may have copped the fallout of an ‘over-the-edge’ version of Michelle). I was already carrying on like a two-year-old who needed a nap, so I thought it best not to inflict that on anyone else, and I’m certain I made the right choice in spite of the financial consequences as a casual employee.
This whole situation has really highlighted the importance of my space. Having an area in the house that is just for me to go and cocoon myself without the distraction of anyone else’s noise is super important for my ability to function. As soon as no one else was in the house, I was able to complete my assessment—a 1600-word review of an RCT for Research and Evidence-Based Practice. I couldn’t even chip away at that until there was no one around. Having the soundproof studio will enable me to really have that level of focus that I need when I write and compose (and even do social media posts, which I have not been able to do). I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to that. There have been some hiccups in the building, and it’s going to take longer and cost more, but I am certain it will be worth it in the long run. This is something that I’ve probably needed my whole life and never been able to have properly, so it’s a huge win even being halfway through this process.
I’m trying to focus on the things that I can do and not the things that I can’t. I can write, even if it’s using dictation. I can compose, even if it’s using programs instead of instruments. I can exercise, even if it’s not my usual routine. This afternoon I plan on some laps at the heated pool, and I know deep in my bones that when I emerge from that pool, I will emerge a whole different person. Journaling is good for that. I so often forget what is good for me. If I journal, reminders bubble up and end up on the page in black and white: move your body, Michelle. I know I’m in deep need of some endorphins and that magical feeling I get after 40 laps. I find swimming a unique combination of a meditative state and aerobic exercise. It’s unlike anything else. I’ve spent all the energy, but I’ve not dumped all the adrenaline like I would if I were running or working out at the gym. There’s no pressure on my joints and nearly no way for me to injure myself doing something stupid or overdoing it.
Some of you may know I’ve started my meditation teacher training. I’ve done this as I think that it’s probably one of the best ways to heal from CPTSD and from fibromyalgia. I’ve done a lot of talk-based therapy, and for me right now, I think the main goal is retraining my nervous system. Studying to teach means that not only will I help myself, but I’ll be equipped to help others in similar situations. It also keeps me accountable—it’s not just about my own self (which, if it was, I would more easily abandon). It’s one way for me to harness my over-responsible nature for my own benefit.
Navigating these past few weeks has been anything but easy, but I’m reminded that it's okay to struggle and that healing isn’t linear. It’s a constant ebb and flow, a balance between pushing through and knowing when to step back. Effort and surrender. I’m learning to honor where I am, to be patient with myself, to ensure that I take responsibility for meeting my needs, and to recognize that my journey is unique (ironically, just like everyone else’s is).
As I continue to build my soundproof studio—both literally and metaphorically—I’m holding onto the small victories and the practices that keep me grounded. The road to recovery and routine is still unfolding, and while there are bumps along the way, I’m grateful for the tools I have, the lessons I’m learning, and the space I’m creating for myself.
Thank you for joining me on this journey. Whether you're facing similar challenges or just here to witness an artist unfolding, I hope my experiences resonate with you and perhaps even offer a bit of comfort or inspiration. We’re all just doing our best, and sometimes, that’s more than enough.
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