ADHD is about having broken filters on your perception.
Normal people have a sort of mental secretary that takes the 99% of irrelevant crap that crosses their mind, and simply deletes it before they become consciously aware of it. As such, their mental workspace is like a huge clean whiteboard, ready to hold and organize useful information.
ADHD people… have no such luxury. Every single thing that comes in the front door gets written directly on the whiteboard in bold, underlined red letters, no matter what it is, and no matter what has to be erased in order for it to fit.
As such, if we’re in the middle of some particularly important mental task, and our eye should happen to light upon… a doorknob, for instance, it’s like someone burst into the room, clad in pink feathers and heralded by trumpets, screaming HEY LOOK EVERYONE, IT’S A DOORKNOB! LOOK AT IT! LOOK! IT OPENS THE DOOR IF YOU TURN IT! ISN’T THAT NEAT? I WONDER HOW THAT ACTUALLY WORKS DO YOU SUPPOSE THERE’S A CAM OR WHAT? MAYBE ITS SOME KIND OF SPRING WINCH AFFAIR ALTHOUGH THAT SEEMS KIND OF UNWORKABLE.
It’s like living in a soft rain of post-it notes.
This happens every single waking moment, and we have to manually examine each thought, check for relevance, and try desperately to remember what the thing was we were thinking before it came along, if not. Most often we forget, and if we aren’t caught up in the intricacies of doorknob engineering, we cast wildly about for context, trying to guess what the hell we were up to from the clues available.
On the other hand, we’re extremely good at working out the context of random remarks, as we’re effectively doing that all the time anyway.
We rely heavily on routine, and 90% of the time get by on autopilot. You can’t get distracted from a sufficiently ingrained habit, no matter what useless crap is going on inside your head… unless someone goes and actually disrupts your routine. I’ve actually been distracted out of taking my lunch to work, on several occasions, by my wife reminding me to take my lunch to work. What the? Who? Oh, yeah, will do. Where was I? um… briefcase! Got it. Now keys.. okay, see you honey!
Also, there’s a diminishing-returns thing going on when trying to concentrate on what you might call a non-interactive task. Entering a big block of numbers into a spreadsheet, for instance. Keeping focused on the task takes exponentially more effort each minute, for less and less result. If you’ve ever held a brick out at arm’s length for an extended period, you’ll know the feeling. That’s why the internet, for instance, is like crack to us - it’s a non-stop influx of constantly-new things, so we can flick from one to the next after only seconds. Its better/worse than pistachios.
The exception to this is a thing we get called hyper focus. Occasionally, when something just clicks with us, we can get ridiculously deeply drawn into it, and NOTHING can distract us. We’ve locked our metaphorical office door, and we’re not coming out for anything short of a tornado.
Medication takes the edge off. It reduces the input, it tones down the fluster, it makes it easier to ignore trivial stuff, and it increases the maximum focus-time. Imagine steadicam for your skull. It also happens to make my vision go a little weird and loomy occasionally, and can reduce appetite a bit.
Hope this helps and please do share this so that more people can learn what its really like to have ADHD.
This is incredibly spot on for my experiences, right down to my wife’s reminders.
In fact, I was just about to post something interesting when I found this post and now I have no idea what it was. I’m going to spend the next 20 minutes looking back over my feed to see if something re-triggers that exact random thought.
Oh my god, this is exactly it. This is my brain. This is my life. Seriously if I’m doing something DO NOT INTERRUPT
In an essay for graduate school, I likened having ADHD with anxiety like having a brain full of a cloud of rainbow butterflies… Made of fire and razor wire. I can’t help but chase the thoughts, but then I realize that I’ve lost control of the task and have an anxiety attack / I’ve caught the butterfly but it’s dead and I’m bleeding and burned.
Tell me more of this celibate!Derek/getting experience!Stiles scenario you speak of. ::chinhands:: Go ahead, get your thoughts together. I’ll wait. ::stares at you::
Oooh, I will. I will. I’ll tell you how Stiles knows aaaall about relationships. He knows everything about planning dates, breakfasts in bed, talking on the phone for hours, random gifts just because, anniversaries, meeting the parents… When he dated James in college, they even moved in together and adopted a puppy—which was clearly crazy but he made it work and he had fun doing it. Stiles wins at relationships.
Derek… really really doesn’t.
Derek has never been in an actual relationship. He dated Paige, and then had to kill her. He dated Kate, who then went on to kill his family. He dated Jennifer, only to find out that she’s an evil druid. So after that it’s kind of like… maybe he should stick to what he’s good at, you know? Read some books, stalk some teenagers, pretend not to care.
And it works for Derek. It works for him for a good long while. But then Stiles comes back from college and everything changes.
Derek starts to want. He finds himself reaching out—like seriously, physically reaching out to Stiles even when he doesn’t mean to, leaning into Stiles’ warmth, dreaming about him, and—okay, he’s not an idiot, he knows what all that means, but he has no idea how to go about asking Stiles out. Would Stiles even want to? He knows everything about Derek by now, every little failure, every time he was selfish, every time he was stupid… Every time he’d been beaten, Stiles had been there.
Derek can’t even bring himself to hope.
But it turns out you can only repress and deny for so long. After a close call with a siren, Derek grabs Stiles – dripping wet and gasping and fragile in his arms – and kisses him.
Afterwards, Stiles tells him it was a movie kiss. They were alone on the beach at night, wet and clinging to each other, almost trembling from adrenaline and exhaustion. What’s not movie material is what comes after, which is Derek running away with his metaphorical tail between his legs.
Period: You want cookies
Period: You want to fuck
Period: You want to fuck while eating cookies.
Period: Let's be sad about trivial things, shall we?
Period: Kill them.
Period: Kill them too.
Period: Kill them and eat their cookies.
Period: Shhhh it's okay you'll feel better soon.
Period: HAHAHAHAHA NO YOU WON'T FUCK YOU.
Period: Whoops you dropped a spoon better cry
PEOPLE’S OPINIONS OF ME
Reblogging this not only for artists but also for people who write werewolf (and other animal transformation) fiction. If a human turned into a wolf, their knee joints would not reverse— what some fic writers mistake for the knee is actually the ankle. A wolf’s hind feet are relatively long, and they are always walking in way roughly analogous to human “tip-toeing.”
There are also quite a few helpful illustrations that show the comparable human and animal anatomy, like this one with a horse:
and this one with a dog:
With animals like dogs and horses, the structures of the foot tend to be lengthened and the thigh considerably shortened, in comparison to a human. The knee joint (which is known as the stifle in horses and dogs) is all the way up near the body, while the ankle (hock) is is positioned more mid-limb, which is why people often seem to think it’s a knee and write it, as pyrositshere mentions, like it’s reversing, when actually what would be happening is the bones of the foot elongating and the structure of the ankle shifting upward.
lalalickmydick said: hey just curious but where did the "sexually mature tomato of bangability" tag come from? what does it mean?
HEY YOU. sexually mature tornado of bangability is a tag coined by the unparalleled, inimitable drunktuesdaze which IMO perfectly encapsulates the trope of Stiles coming back from college a little older, more comfortable in his skin, and supremely confident about his sexual prowess. He was relatively unpopular in high school, spent all those years fruitlessly and pathetically lusting after Lydia, went to university a virgin (when this tag was coined Malia was still darting around the woods and gleefully chomping on deer), and there he had a major epiphany when he realized that people were actually INTO HIM.
It’s kind of like the “Stiles grows out his hair and Derek acutely starts popping boners in his presence” trope that came into origin at the start of season 3, but on a MUCH LARGER SCALE, because everyone wants sexually-mature-tornado-of-bangability-Stiles’ d. EVERYONE. He barely spends any money at the Starbucks on campus because half the time the person next in line steps up to pay for his order, or the barista hands him a cup with a winky face drawn on it. On nights out drunk sorority girls come up to him and tell him they love his jawline, love his cute little moles, you’ve got the prettiest eyes, Stiles, and your hair looks so soft, can I touch it, Stiles, please. Some of the most popular guys pay for his drinks and let their hands linger on his lower back way longer than necessary when they brush past him.
And because Stiles has always been eager and a little impulsive, he goes with the flow (once he’s gotten over the fact that people are actually, you know, into him, that is). He gives the people who pay for him at Starbucks his number, scribbled on the back of a receipt. He flirts back with the baristas. He allows girls to stroke his hair and make out with him and he goes down on them for hours afterward. He smiles sweetly when guys hand him beer and follows them to the bathroom and lets them kiss him, lets them work their hands down his pants, lets them take him home.
IMPORTANTLY, sexually mature tornado of bangability Stiles must not be confused with frat boy Stiles. There are similarities, obviously, but whereas frat boy Stiles is actively on a mission to take as many dicks as humanly possible,
pretending not to carenot caring about the many hearts he breaks in the process, sexually mature tornado of bangability Stiles just happily absorbs all the sexual experience and then returns to Beacon Hills to (wittingly or unwittingly) knock poor Derek off his feet.
tbh this is what i would imagine their first kiss to be like