Why you've got ADHD

All of you, except for Wonko

I got diagnosed with ADHD about 4 years ago, at the age of 50. Tragically, I didn’t get to enjoy being “neurodiverse” for very long before literally everybody else also got diagnosed with ADHD. Then it was only about ten minutes after that when all the articles started coming out about how it’s not even a real thing and how it’s too easy to get a diagnosis and how people just want to have an excuse for being useless.

I already have a lot of very good and well-established excuses for being useless, so I don’t relate to that last thing. And the first thing, obviously dumb. But it does seem like almost everyone I know either has a diagnosis, is getting a diagnosis, or has self-diagnosed ADHD. You can see why people think it’s just the latest brain fashion. Add to that the fact that ADHD is often modelled by insufferable twats who think it makes them special, or worse, wacky, and you can’t really blame people for being annoyed about it and wanting it to go away.

But maybe it seems like ADHD is everywhere because it actually is everywhere because everyone’s got it.

As far as I can tell as a completely unqualified person making this shit up off the top of my head, ADHD is a condition that is indistinguishable from being a creatively-minded person. I’m not saying some people don’t have it worse than others, because obviously they do. Or that the people with the hardest to handle brains are the most creative, because who knows? I’m just saying that the only people who don’t have any ADHD at all are probably a little bit dead inside.

Bro, how are you not going to have trouble with your brain? Here’s a list of some of the things ADHDers struggle with that are apparently completely “normal” and easy for “neurotypical” people: Knowing what to do at any given moment. Making yourself do stuff you don’t want to do. Making yourself not do stuff you do want to do. Knowing how long five minutes is. Not drifting off into thoughts and daydreams and memories and plans for world domination. Listening to people when you already know what they’re going to say. Being open and friendly, but never saying the wrong thing. Not getting anxious even though you have no idea of what might happen next and you’re aware it could be literally ANYTHING. Sitting down. “Relaxing”. Making and keeping friends even though you’re extremely weird and keep forgetting other people exist. Not getting distracted by or addicted to devices and items that are designed specifically to distract and addict you.

I mean.

You were born into a cosmic mystery. But all around you, people are trying to tell you nothing’s going on. There’s no mystery! This is all completely normal and totally explicable! Actually, you’re the weird one. Round here, we like to teach the young ’uns that life is a nicely organised and averagely boring experience and if you just do what you’re told and follow the rules, no matter how miserable it makes you, it will all make sense in the end.

And you’re there thinking, wait, what? Am I the only one who finds this ridiculous? Why have I got this mind that’s predisposed to wander and wonder and feel awe and experience magic, but I’m only supposed to use it for making spreadsheets and doing the Wordle? And am I a bad person because I keep losing my keys?

You're just trying to fit in and be “normal” like you think everyone else must be. But they're not. Meanwhile, the CIA works out how to brainwash people and billionaires are trying to put computer chips into our heads and telling us to eat insects and the robots are logging every single thing we do or say so that they can sell us more stuff we don’t need or really even want.

But sure, it’s a neurological ‘condition’ to be unable to sit through a meeting without doodling a couple of aliens or something.

The drugs don’t help much, obviously. Or sometimes they do. Which drugs, though? That’s what you have to figure out. Everyone’s on something, even if it’s only biscuits.

My personal drug of choice is crisps. Well, that and magic mushrooms, obviously. And also all the other drugs. But in actual reality, almost exclusively crisps. There’s nothing more satisfyingly crunchy, and yes, I have tried most things. (Don’t come at me with your ‘crisp’ recipe made out of kale. Kale is inedible and people only eat it to show off how woke they are.)

Do crisps ameliorate the suffering of existence and help me be sane in an insane world? Only slightly. But still, better than nothing. Having a sense of humour helps, too, or so I’ve heard.

Of course, Douglas Adams already explained all this when he told the story of Wonko the Sane, who saw the instructions on a packet of toothpicks and realised the world had gone quite mad, poor thing. Sadly, it’s only got more nutty since then and it’s even harder to keep it locked away. You have to be creative, that’s the only way to handle it.

I suppose all of you are going to write in now and tell me I’m wrong and that the majority of people are normal and can totally handle living in a mad world ruled over by a bunch of evil magicians and shitwitches. Well, good. I’d like to be wrong for once. I expect it would be a fun experience. You’ll have to let me know.

Meeting doodles

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I mean, I feel rude asking you for money after I’ve basically just told you you’re not special. But I will say that the people who pay me to write this newsletter are among the most well-adjusted and delightfully balanced people I’ve ever known, and they are all really bloody attractive, too.