ADHD’ers Are Dripping T Learners

They’re Not Failed Projects, They’re Part Your Professionalism

If there’s one thing we people with ADHD excel in, it’s kicking our own asses. Apart from serious bouts of hyperfocus, concentrating on something (anything) isn’t something we do as Goldfish Brained. Unless it’s about obsessing over our shortcomings, then we are like dogs eyeing a steak just out of reach. Someone once told me that most people have a butler in their heads, telling them in a civilized way what they could improve on next time. Learn and grow and shit. ADHD me? Not really. I’ve a raving madman screaming on top of his voice ‘YOU SUCK, YOU STINKING, WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHITE’. Character-building as that may be, for a long time it kind of distracted me from what really counts: Recognizing the things I am good at. And that’s a shame, because I’m a genius¹.

Luckily, a while ago I had an insightful moment that did change my life. On most days.

The graveyard of broken projects

For the longest time I felt really frustrated. I have a graveyard full of former hobbies, passion projects, forgotten to-do lists, and career directions. To name a few: I’ve been sketching and painting most of my life. Probably only 10 hours a year, on average. I wrote a book. Then I wrote it again, because it sucked. Then I rewrote half before I ran out of interest.² I picked up piano, taught myself to read notes, immediately started on a classical piece of Bach and some Beatles, lightly touched the Piano Man, and then gave the piano away because it was ugly.³ I also tried my luck on French and Spanish. Didn’t stick, although for a long time I could tell people I didn’t speak French in fluent French. I could go on, but you probably have a graveyard just like this.

As you can imagine, the raving lunatic in my head had a field day every time.

If only…

Although I always knew this way of diving into things always has been, and probably always will be, part of me, I was convinced it was a terrible loss. If only I could dedicate one morning a month on sketching. Play the piano every Sunday afternoon. Make Tuesday ‘book writing day’. I knew I was talented in at least a couple cases, since I pick things up fairly quickly. (Especially frustration, if there were championships on that, I’d win easily.)

Then it suddenly hit me.

All these projects, all this energy, that wasn’t wasted potential. It wasn’t missed opportunities. Because the opportunity wasn’t really there in the first place. There isn’t a pianist hidden in me I didn’t manage to coax out, I just explored everything I needed to know about playing the piano. No hidden painter, no illustrator. Not a French actor in a film noir. My talent isn’t mastering four things brilliantly, it’s mastering thirty things for a bit.

And that’s not even true either, because I am good at several things. I’ve been a professional writer for over twenty years. In Dutch and English. I’ve been cooking in restaurant kitchens, even mastering cooking on open fire on that level a couple of years ago. Mon Dieu, I even (finally) mastered speaking French this year. Not yet fluent, but hey, there’s room to improve.

So why did I manage to do that?

Intrinsic motivation

Every now and then a passion project sticks and the enthusiasm doesn’t drift off. Often because I can integrate it into my life. Without any experience I got a job as a copywriter at an advertising agency where my Goldfish Brain turned out to be a talent. (I didn’t even like advertising, but I liked the freedom it gave me.) I dated a dancer who needed to eat proper food so I cooked with fresh vegetables every day. And years later I walked into a professional kitchen offering to work for free since the writing business was slow that month. The chef became a good friend, that was reason enough to often go back and catch up while cooking. And last year we bought an old home in France, so picking up French again was the logical thing since people wouldn’t stop talking gibberish to me.

Finding your way of learning

I still approach all these things on my own, dysfunctional way. I learned French by watching French series, reading French books, and torturing my neighbors with awful French. Skipping, at least at the start, all those boring grammar bits that are only now starting to become interesting. As for cooking: I mimicked the chef at first, only later exploring my own cooking style. When a famous Dutch chef told me during an interview that ‘the best dishes have only three components’, that hit a nerve and defined how I cook. Doing more with less helps me not to get lost in the details. In a way, the same applies to this Substack gig as The Goldfish Brain. So far, I’m keeping my schedule. Why? Because I interact with people and I can ramble on about the things that really interest me. Also, there are loads of brilliant weirdo’s here that do great work.

Of course, my way isn’t the only way. You just have to recognize the way that works for you. The point is: find the pattern that keeps you curious and moving.

The dripping T

For me, this is a variation of T-shaped people and T-shaped learning. The horizontal bar stands for a broad knowledge across multiple disciplines or skills and the vertical bar for deep expertise in a single domain. Only in the case of the Goldfish Brained, it’s a dripping T-shape where the horizontal bar sort of drips paint all over the place. We don’t have one expertise along the line of broad interest, we have many. Some just a blotch of paint, some almost making a T on their own.

All those abandoned projects? It turns out they aren’t missed opportunities. It’s those that define the kind of professional you are. They have been worth your time, no matter how long they lasted, and you’re worth not to worry about them anymore. They enable you to switch between topics and see connections like the boundary spanner you are. The funny thing? Skills like these turn out to be very much in demand in working with the robots. All the stuff you suck at? Let AI take care of that. So you can focus on the bigger picture, the creativity, and the talent to call bullshit when you see it. That’s where you excel at.

Did I manage to turn my raving lunatic in a friendly butler yet? Not quite. On bad days the yelling goes on. But most days it’s toned down to a sarcastic coach in a clown costume who doesn’t mince his words. And honestly? I wouldn’t want it any other way. Because in a world of increasingly predictable robots, a bit of glorious human chaos is exactly the edge we need.

1. No, I’m not. Duh. Quite clever, that I manage.

2. I’ve gone through a couple of paid editors and subscriptions on Scrivener, The Snowflake Method and Plottr along the way.

3. On my own I’m a small chamber orchestra with me on piano, guitar, flute, and clarinet. Only playing very, very minimalistic music.