Beware the hooks! AuDHD and ADHD’s influence on thought

Spongebob: Ep. Hooky

How many other people with AuDHD or ADHD have felt themselves unable to let go of a stream of thought? It happens to me frequently. I feel like a dog with a chew toy, I just cannot let go, even after a good mangling.

I never even realized this is what I was doing until I’d been “consistently” on my meds. At this point, I have to conclude my academic curiosities and my enjoyment of a good critique or debate are a result of these hooks that just won’t let go of a topic. The irony of these hooks is that they don’t seem to align with an attention deficit at all, quite the opposite. I might argue that “attention deficit” is really what it looks like to somebody who has noticed but not accepted they are boring me to tears.

The upside to these naturally occurring hooks is that I can get quite deep into some interesting topics and experience the satisfaction gained from new perspectives and a deeper conceptual understanding. However, the downside is no joke. These hooks can get into streams of thought that are not productive, fed and exacerbated by anxiety and depression. Those with AuDHD and ADHD have often been noted to have a creative bent due to lateral thinking and an intimidating imagination, but if that machinery is hijacked by anxiety, my mind is then in that place for the foreseeable future.

Before I was diagnosed, I always used to say things like, “I have a lot on my mind,” or, “I wish I had an off button” when talking about the difficulty of quieting my thoughts towards the end of a day. I don’t know how many times I have tried to guide a thought process to a natural full stop with the hopes of freeing my mind from this burden, but it never seems to work. Given that often what I am doing is trying to make predictions and come up with contingency plans for different eventualities, I can sometimes accept that I simply cannot know and therefore should put the thought process on hold until I know more. I can also accept that my mind likes to spear ideas with hooks, reminding me that this is in my nature, which can perhaps help keep the emotional response in check (if my alexithymia hasn’t blinded me completely). So far, though, the best solution seems to be distraction – spear something else.   

I have also noticed my hooks can be sensitive to communications from others, which result in something being said (written), and I’m unable to gauge meaning or intention (the Au in AuDHD). My response, and I don’t have much say in this, is to sink my hooks into the message and figure out both what it meant and what it means in the context of understanding my future. I usually have to remind myself that I am going to over-think it, there might not be much meaning or intent, and even if there is, it’s just one opinion. Although, to save myself from any mental acrobatics that might ruin my evening, I tend to avoid communications towards the end of the day and tackle them in the morning – I know avoidance isn’t a great solution, but I’m still waiting for the day when everyone gets their communication out the way in the morning, so they can then shut up for the rest of the day.

The Song of the Rubik’s Cube

There are millions of unsolved Rubik’s Cubes in the world today.

Sitting in boxes and bags, on shelves, in cupboards, and all with each side sharing segments of the same color. And that isn’t to mention the off brand cubes or the other 3D shapes: the pyramids, the dodecagons and the irregular cubes.

I have no idea how many people in history have solved a Rubik’s Cube, and I am still a little unclear about how messed up it has to be in the first place before you can start the puzzle with honesty, but I imagine the fate is mostly the same – the sides destined to never be of uniform color again, and the very sight of it a reminder of lost time, frustration and blind rage.

Statistically speaking, to solve a Rubik’s Cube cannot be too far removed from having the ability to un-fry an egg or standing on a riverbank and watching the river flow uphill. Yet even with these odds, the market is there because everyone knows that to solve a Rubik’s Cube is a demonstration of intellectual savvy and flexibility, or even genius.

The lust after solving the puzzle is what keeps this market energized even with such an abysmal return on investment. To sell a Rubik’s Cube is to sell a pocket of hope, much like a ticket down at the dog track – but a Rubik’s Cube is for life, not just for Christmas. An unsolved Rubik’s Cube occupies the same amount of space as a solved one.

I presume there are some people in the world that can begin a conversation with, “I solved a Rubik’s Cube once.” But what does that tell us about them? Should we infer that it would be advantageous to enter into some sort of friendship with them? It doesn’t appear to carry the same weight as, “Would you like me to clear out that large briar patch in your garden for you?” or, “I’ll have a word with the mayor and see if he’ll give you permission to raise goats.”

The metaphors that come from millions of unsolved Rubik’s Cubes are harrowing. A Cube on a shelf for five years, ten years, fifty years, unsolved, and destined for a yard sale or landfill. You cannot help but anthropomorphize the Cube and feel sad that it was brutally messed up and nobody was able to solve it. There is an entire population or nation of these Cubes, all disfigured by humans in their search for fame and glory. If the will of the Rubik’s Cube to be whole again was a song, it would deafen us with its sorrow.

There are more Cubes showing uniform color on all sides that were made that way, than were solved. They were made perfect for the very purpose of abuse. To be twisted until each face is no longer recognizable. And on the event of being solved, perhaps they are kept as trophies of luck and/or skill, but human curiosity quickly disfigures and abandons them again.

An unsolved Rubik’s Cube is a constant reminder of failure and then rejection; it wears its shame on its face. The Cube is not permitted to metamorphose, evolve, or rehabilitate, an unsolved Cube in all probability will remain an unsolved Cube, spurned by time and human optimism.

So, the next time you find yourself playing with a Rubik’s Cube, if you’re not crying, then you’re doing it wrong.