Borrowing from the Adhd Toolkit, part one

Time isn't an "Illusion"

When I was young, I remember my mother being fascinated with clocks. Real analog clocks were in almost every room of the house. I don’t know why. Maybe she just liked the way they looked. I remember her having a watch, so maybe keeping time was important to her. For that reason, or just because I’m used to it, I have one analog clock in my music room. The battery dies sooner than I expect every once in a while, but it’s so easy to ignore. When I’m down here, I’m trying to get work done. There’s always something more important. I have my phone. The computer is down here. I have a watch. But I’m so used to looking at the wall to check the time, and in my haste to get other things done, I never have enough time. This is enough for me to forget that the battery needs to be replaced.

I’ll think I have more time than I actually do, or I’ll think it’s later than it is. My crucial perception of how I will order my day and expend my energy is inaccurate because I haven’t put a new battery in my clock. The irony is that even though it would take 30 seconds to put a new battery in the clock, I behave like I don’t have time. I have a love-hate relationship with the idea of time and watching it go by. This may seem overly romanticized. Every tick is a tiny eulogy. Every motion of the hour hand is a condemnation of something I didn’t do. And it doesn’t matter what I’m doing. It doesn’t matter that I’m doing what I’m doing to the best of my ability. My mind potentiates possible futures that weave together and apart, intertwined like pasta. And like pasta, it doesn’t last. I feel like I am eating up my time, yet I am never full, but always tired from carb overload. Sometimes I stay awake and eat a portion of tomorrow’s meal, which always leaves me more tired and hungrier the next day.

I know that time is scarce, so my intentions compete and battle with each other for what precious time is available, like a department store on Black Friday, tripping and falling over each other over discount dopamine. I feel like whatever plans I have for the day are being drawn and quartered, and at the end of it, my hopes for productivity are dead, and none of my plans are executed. One of these days, I’ll get it together. While it’s easy to become distracted, being blindsided by the realization that you’ve just spent four hours bouncing between unrealistic expectations with no meaningful progress to show for it, the urge to slow down and take inventory, which is the right decision, always seems counterintuitive. Why would I stop? I have too many things to do in the world. Do you stop in the middle of a cyclone?

If you put your cell phone down, that’s only the starting line. I’m almost 40 years old. I’ve never needed a cell phone to waste time. But statistically, the older I get, the less time I have to lose. Is it possible to realistically save time? I feel like every time I’ve tried to implement some fancy program, some task management system, some scheduling hour-to-hour program, it has never worked for me. What has worked for me longer than I realized? Clocks. Metronomes for non-musicians – the timekeepers everyone else uses. But not just any clock, or timers. Why did I forget? Why do I always seem to forget?

When I was beginning my drumming journey, one of the first books I picked up was "Stick Control." Within the first few pages, there is advice on how to practice the examples: practice each line 20 times before moving on to the next one. I don’t know why I knew this. I don’t feel like anyone told me this. It’s something that I felt on instinct, but I felt that 20 times wasn’t enough. I felt that I needed to be able to practice each line 20 times without making a mistake. I wanted to retain the skills given to me, not merely play at each example, so I started to try 20 times without making a mistake. The issue is, I got tired of counting. At a certain tempo, I discovered how much time it took to do something 20 times and just set timers. Not only did it give me more space to pay attention to what I was doing, but it allowed me to mark my progress in a much more real way. I could, for instance, say, "Well, this day I could only play number 13 for 30 seconds; in two days that increased to 120 seconds." So I stopped counting repetitions altogether and started timing my exercises. I still do this.

The thing I didn’t understand is how certain tools work in multiple facets of our lives. I think we’re all bad at this from time to time. We don’t understand how the logic of one situation will apply to seemingly separate problems. So over the years, I’ve understood the power of using timers.

The pandemic did an absolute number on me. When I talk about my struggles to friends or loved ones, they have a hard time understanding where I come from because they are used to a regimented practicing schedule and a person that can keep their shit together. So why did it take nearly four years for me to understand that the loss of my structure was a huge factor in the reason why it was hard for me to focus? When I was younger, I was very intent on not doing anything or adding anything into my life that could take away from my ability to practice. That’s how much I wanted to get better on the drums. I would purposefully design my life to be as simple as possible, as low cost as possible, so that I could devote more of my attention to drums. By some metric, I succeeded. I taught at a music store, which meant that I had a studio to practice in, separate from my messy and chaotic home. Apart from the open window that everyone passed on their way into the teaching studio and the few people who passed by would stop and watch me practice, which still makes me feel uncomfortable thinking about it, I had compartments, partitions, and structure. I didn’t have to worry about getting new clients because new students came at regular intervals. I didn’t have to worry about advertising myself or posting on social media to get income. I had a system, and it worked.

Now, I have a home office, a state-of-the-art Zoom teaching studio, and entirely too many options. I can do laundry. I can take the trash out. I can return emails. I can work on streamlining my setup. I can work on microphone placement. I can go get coffee or water, and that is a problem. Distractions can derail our productivity, making it feel like we’re constantly struggling to stay on track. As someone with ADHD, I’ve spent countless hours battling these distractions. But here’s the thing – we don’t have to keep losing this battle. It’s not that we don’t lose a battle sometimes. I still lose often, but I’ve also won as well. While right now, I can’t afford an office away from home, there are things that I can do that give me a fighting chance. The funny thing is, for me, it’s not a new tool.

According to research presented by Russell Barkley in his book about ADHD, one of the problems with ADHD and executive function is working memory. One lesson functional ADHD people can teach the world is that your brain lies, and we suck at keeping time, so we outsource to visual, sonic, present reminders of the things that we need to do – things that are hard to ignore, hard to unsee – things that signal the structure to direct our energy with intention so that we have any chance in hell of completing tasks or long-term goals. Those long-term goals get broken down into small steps, and those small steps get compartmentalized into 10 or 20 minutes of focused work. The irony is that often, it doesn’t matter what you do first. What matters is if you do something. And if you can do something for 20 minutes, chances are you can do more.

The Pomodoro Technique

There is a saying that you have to hear a piece of information a certain number of times before taking action. That is the Pomodoro method to me. It was recently recommended by two friends, Breven Hampden and Dimitri Fantini (about two weeks apart.) I was aware of the average length of a person’s attention span and when focus starts to produce diminishing returns, usually around 25 to 30 minutes. But it’s taken me so long to put that knowledge into practice because I am terrified that if I stop what I’m doing, I won’t start again. A lot of us are like this. We are terrified of rest because every time we stop, we feel various emotions – other people working harder and getting ahead of us, not meeting our goals, etc. Isn’t that bizarre that we won’t do the things that energize us and keep us in the fight? We would sometimes completely exhaust ourselves, which is counterproductive because it’s so hard to work when you’re already running on empty. I’m still learning how to properly rest; that is not something that comes easy to me. But I’ve discovered that when I do and when I can come back to a task, not only do I think better but I am not exhausted at the end of the day in the same way.

The Pomodoro Technique is a time management method that involves working for a set period (usually 25 minutes), followed by a short break (5 minutes). After four “Pomodoros,” you take a longer break (15-30 minutes).

Why It Works: Our brains thrive on structure and predictability. The Pomodoro Technique creates a rhythm, a dance between focused work and rest. It’s a way to harness our natural attention spans and use them to our advantage. Plus, knowing a break is coming up can make even the most daunting task feel more manageable.

Understanding Focus and Degradation

The University of California, Irvine, conducted a study led by Gloria Mark, which found that the average person’s attention span on a single task ranges from about 20 to 25 minutes. After this period, focus begins to degrade, leading to decreased productivity and increased errors. For people with ADHD, this window can be even shorter. Once focus is lost, it can take about 23 minutes to regain full concentration on the original task. This is why the Pomodoro Technique is so effective – it works with our natural attention spans and allows for breaks that help reset our focus.

Starting a new habit, like using a timer, can be tricky at first. It’s easy to forget to set it up, especially when you’re not used to it. Here are some tips to help create and maintain this new habit:

• 
  
• 
  
• 
  
• 
  

Starting new habits takes time. Do not register every time you don’t adhere to a new habit as a failure because if you do, you decrease the likelihood of actually returning to that habit. You are not a failure if you don't do it EVERY DAY. I left that stupid line ChatGPT wrote so that I could challenge it here. You want to do the habit more often than you don’t. THAT’s what you need. If you work better with strict rules and absolutes, do your thing. I haven’t gotten better by being “perfect.” The idea of perfection has made me worse. You are human, not a robot. I recently read in the book "Losing Control" by Katherine Morgan Schafler that accountability is not the same as blame. Self-compassion stems from the belief you are whole and perfectly you. You can improve and do the things you want to do. You have control. You have power. Have you seen those "No Excuses," motivational memes? I hate 90% of them. Don't let that belittle you. You don't have to be excused. The things that happen in your life ARE important. You are allowed to rest, time take, sit still, and please, PLEASE cry sometimes What you need is to figure out the things that serve you and also what's not working for you. Throw that away or address it, and with patience and understanding towards yourself. Allow yourself to be the person that you are. You are a person, not a project. You are not your achievements. Life is not a race. This will take as long as it takes. Failure is not a moral evil. It’s just something that happens. And when you can look at it as something that happened, with grace and curiosity, it will become your greatest teacher…or so they tell me. I have WAY more energy to make an effort when I believe that I am worthy of the work I want to do. This work is worthwhile because what I want matters to ME. (seriously, READ.)

Thanks for reading.