ADHD Witching: An Update

It’s been a minute since I’ve said anything on this blog about ADHD.

For those just joining, I was diagnosed in October 2022 and medicated in November. I started with a small dose of immediate-release medication and have increased my dose slightly this year.

Since I last checked in, I’ve taught more classes, traveled to teach at a camp in another country, and worked on new projects. I’ve had many chances to see if I was different. If my magick was different. If that was a good thing or something I didn’t like.

I said I’d check in every now and again.

Spoiler alert: no regrets.

What I Notice When Teaching

ADHD allows me to see patterns and tap into a variety of ideas, which can help in creating new classes or improving on old classes. I have a bunch of ideas, and when I collect those, I wait for my brain to settle, and then I can organize them into plans.

The actual teaching of classes has been easier, though I would also say that I’ve never described teaching as hard. I have described it as stressful. I’ve described it as something I love, but it can also make me tense as I have so many ideas clamoring for my attention, so many that I can’t always figure out which one to listen to. I would start in one direction and then move into another direction and then have to figure out how to connect them.

(And believe me, I learned a lot from adjusting in that way.)

But now? My brain organizes things, puts them in the best order, and I say stuff that works for what is happening. I don’t worry about knowing what to say, and I don’t get anxious about my performance. I can lean into the way I am and the way I look at things. I can offer something real and present versus something practiced to appear as second nature. Well, I used to practice more, so I would trust I would remember.

Now I can arrive wholeheartedly without thinking about what I will say. Teaching is not exhausting as it once was because I am who I am, not some version of me that’s not quite me.

What I Notice During Ritual

What about the all-important ritual time? What would that look like with ADHD and meds for ADHD? I don’t know. I feel focused during ritual, so I don’t take meds before them. At least, not now.

My brain knows how to stay focused during (most) ritual pieces and taps into the room’s energy to inform the next steps and decisions about what to say and where to move. I want that part of my brain to show up to ritual, one that is flexible and knows ten possibilities.

And I also think being on meds would be fine. I don’t choose to use them during ritual time at the moment. If I found things were disorganized in a not-very-helpful way, I would try something different. But for now, ritual is medicine-free.

What I Notice During Every Other Moment

My life feels easier with ADHD meds. I don’t worry much, if at all. I don’t have wide (and unhelpful) emotional swings and reactions. I don’t have waves of exhaustion from trying to hide or make up for my inattentiveness. I arrive in the moment, trust I’ll know what to do, and act when appropriate.

I can get things done on time more frequently. I still procrastinate, for sure. I have something I’m supposed to be writing right now, and I’m writing this instead. Nothing is perfect.

I have some old coping strategies to disassemble. I am still learning to trust myself to remember what I need to remember. I used to have so many things to help me stay focused and organized so as not to miss anything, be late, or make mistakes. I am having trouble letting those things go. They have been around since at least the time I was in college. (At least, and that was a bit ago.)

ADHD continues to offer me the gift of compassion. A gift I have refused frequently. I now understand that my brain needs a little more help. I never used to dismiss this when I was (inaccurately) put on antidepressants. It was clear that medications helped things feel better.

With ADHD, I just thought I needed to try harder. (Thanks, Midwest upbringing.) Once I took in the fact that it is indeed my brain needing a kick in the neurons (or something, I’m not a doctor), I sank into loving myself a bit harder. Smiling a bit more at my brain.

Letting myself be helped. Even held.

Other small/not-so-small things I’ve noticed: