My Turn: ADHD works for me, and so does NHE

Gus Walz cries as his father, Democratic vice presidential nominee Tim Walz, speaks during the Democratic National Convention on Aug. 21 in Chicago.

Gus Walz cries as his father, Democratic vice presidential nominee Tim Walz, speaks during the Democratic National Convention on Aug. 21 in Chicago. AP PHOTO/MATT ROURKE

By PETER NELSON

Published: 08-28-2024 5:17 PM

 

When I was in first grade, my teacher, Mrs. Johnson, told my parents she thought I might have a bladder infection. She said this because I was always asking to go to the bathroom. What was I doing in the bathroom? I was making up stories, singing, doodling, daydreaming — anything to avoid having to listen to Mrs. Johnson.

I told this story to a psychologist at a cocktail party and said, “If they had ADHD when I was a kid, I would have totally been diagnosed with it,” to which she replied, “Well you know, if you had it then, you have it now — it’s not something you outgrow.”

This explained why, if you and I were driving and stopped at a convenience store, and I said I was going to run inside, and you said, “Will you get me a cup of coffee?” The odds are real good that I’m going to come back to the car without your coffee, because between the time I left the car and returned to it, I thought of something more interesting than your coffee. You might even be angry with me and ask me for a divorce.

It’s been known to happen.

Now Minnesota Gov. and vice presidential candidate Tim Walz’s son Gus in is the spotlight after he was seen weeping with joy and love, watching his father speak before the Democratic convention. A number of Republican commentators, starting with the abominable Ann Coulter, have mocked him for this, failing to recognize that Gus, who has ADHD, also has a condition called NHE, or “Normal Human Emotions.” People who lack NHE are more commonly called “sociopaths,” recognizable by their inability to cry, or laugh, or, in some cases, swing their arms when they walk.

But that’s another conversation.

Gov. Walz says, of his son Gus, “What became so immediately clear to us was that Gus’s condition [ADHD, not NHE] is not a setback, it’s his secret power.”

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I want to explain what that means. I used to think (I know this is not generous or compassionate to say) that those of us who have ADHD find those of you who don’t have ADHD… um … boring. We have trouble paying attention to you (Mrs. Johnson), so rather than admit you’re boring, you make it our problem, not yours, and say there must be something wrong with us, if we quickly tire of listening to you.

Lest I’ve offended anyone, I now know that you’re not really boring.

But it’s still true that while you are telling us … whatever it is you’re telling us … we have thought of something else, something better, something that grabs our attention and overrides … that thing you were saying that I was supposed to be listening to … whatever it was. I know it feels bad when you’re talking to someone who isn’t listening to you it feels rude and disrespectful, and this is a genuine problem ADHD sufferers need to recognize and overcome.

But the wrong word there is “sufferers.”

We are not suffering. While you’re droning on, we are lost in our imaginations, carried away on a flood of invention and creativity. It’s not an attention deficit. It’s an attention super-abundancy, giving us the ability to hyperfocus on the things that interest us, while we ignore the things that don’t. We don’t intentionally choose to ignore them, we just forget they were ever there in the first place.

“You wanted a cup of coffee? Oh yeah, you said that, didn’t you? Be right back.”

I have made a living as a writer, and I am also a musician, and I was a studio art major with some talent as a visual artist. It was true when I was a child and it is true now that when I am writing, or playing the piano, or drawing, I am so consummately focused on my story, my song, my drawing, that hours will pass, blissfully, and I don’t notice.

It has happened, over and over again, that I will engage in something, work on it, lost in the process, think “I should probably stop for dinner,” look up and realize it’s midnight, and I have missed the dinner hour by a long shot. I can do this day after day.

This ability to hyperfocus feels like a superpower, and I think (anecdotally) it is not uncommon that those of us with ADHD have one or more behaviors where this is true. Gus Walz can apparently spend long periods of time playing video games. I don’t think of it as a disorder. I think of it as a gift, like perfect pitch or a photographic memory. I can do things most people can’t do.

My brother is a lawyer who drafts the legal language needed to enact municipal bond issues. I don’t think I could do that with a gun pointed at my head. I’m willing to bet he never forgets the coffee.

But I can write 20,000 words in a sitting. I can spend six hours at the piano, starting from zero and ending with a complete song, or two, or five. I can take my pastels to paper and draw until I am covered with dust, forgetting to eat but not hungry, forgetting to sleep but not tired. I have the gift of hyperfocus, that state of flow where stimulated cognition pours out in unabating joy.

Those who mock Gus Walz should know this.

He is neuro-divergent.

You should be so lucky.

You should probably also work on your NHE deficit.

Peter Nelson lives in Northampton.