Little ADD Things: If I can’t see it, I forget it exists

There are several things that I often say. I apologise too much, I say “isn’t it” a fair amount, and I blurt out nonsense whenever I catch sight of an animal. (“You’re a great dog yes you are yes you are!”) One of the things I’ve said a lot recently is “Sorry, if I can’t see something I forget it’s there.”
I’ve come to realise this is pretty central to my experience of having a weird brain, but I figured I’d note it down – along with the strategies I use now – in case it helps anyone else. It’s pretty embarrassing to admit, but I doubt I’m the only one.
I need to have things around me that I use, or am working on. I like to have things out because once those things are put away, I forget they exist.
This goes for projects, whether creative or schoolwork. When I’m working on something, I like to be immersed in it; but once the project work is tidied away into folders I’m liable to forget it’s important. And as soon as I forget, I move on to something else.
I like the project to be visible and present. Whenever I research organisational skills, I find the suggestion “Put sticky notes up around your room! Put reminders up!” But reminders didn’t work for me, because they quickly fade into the background.
The best thing for me, generally, is just to have the project itself be as visible as possible.
When I was working on my dissertation, I had the document with my draft in it constantly up on my laptop. I also had the contents page, the notes page, and a list of sources to look at. I had a browser window open, where my research was tabbed and bookmarked. I had the books and notes out, too, so all in all I couldn’t walk in my room or open my laptop without being reminded that I was on deadline and should schedule a research trip.
I figured out I needed to do this because I previously procrastinated for four months and did no dissertation work whatsoever. I had some notes in a folder saved in a corner of my laptop, and that was it. But once I started working on it, and the project became visible and ever-present, my brain clicked into action. “Oh, this is important! Well, let’s do it!”
This all leads to some… eccentric habits, and odd situations. Like keeping all your clothes out on hangers, (because when you put them away in drawers you forget they are there). Or being surprised when you open a drawer and find an entire old project that you forgot about but for a brief time was the most important thing you’d ever done.
I got a new laptop last year through the disabilities programme at university, and had to have a ‘training session’ with an advisor. The advisor was horrified to see my Documents folder, which was a kind of bin for essays and other writing. It meant whenever I clicked on Documents, I could see everything I was working on at once. It was a kind of maelstrom of works in progress, completed essays, old poems, and article drafts.
“This is terrible.”
“But I like it this way,” I said.
“Put everything in folders,” she said. “Divide the folders by subject or topic.”
I practised saving documents neatly into the right folder for two weeks. After that I went back to saving files straight into the bin, with a sense of relief.
Having individual folders probably works for many people, but for me it was dreadful. I was a lot more likely to continue working on that important essay when it was the first thing I saw in Documents, not when it had been saved into the Japanese Art subject folder where I’d never look at it again.
I am not saying this is a perfect system, or even a good one. But this way the documents are alphabetised, and they’re out where I can see them. It’s like those people who have cluttered workspaces, but still know where everything is.
This also goes for books. I like Kindle because you can scroll through all the books you’re currently reading – all together! All in one place! – rather than having to hunt around to find all the books you’re reading. It even shows you where you’re up to with each book. Its layout is such that I feel comfortable saving books into folders and setting up reading lists.
I am still trying to find the perfect system. I’ve made great progress in minimising the amount of clutter in my room, tidying away anything unnecessary or unused and keeping the things that I use visible in my living space. But like everything else, it’s a never-ending work in progress.

Should you clear a space for wonder?

I have a confession to make to the guys at NASA: when a photo of outer space comes up on my timeline, I keep scrolling. I’d like to be able to appreciate space photography, but I process it as pretty colours and unintelligible visual noise.
Sometimes I look at the caption, which tells me that life has been found on Mars, or a new planet has appeared, or at this very moment ten galaxies are all having sex with each other at the same time, or something. It is too big for me to process – even looking at the photos is perplexing and stressful – so I shrug and move on. Sorry, NASA.
Is this normal?
Maybe right now, other people are also scrolling past stars and thinking “This should be interesting. This is a fascinating thing people give up their entire lives to study. I just don’t have the brainspace in my day to feel wonder about this, so my only reaction is ‘Oh, that’s good. Keep on doing what you’re doing, faraway cluster of stars’.”
And maybe the reason I’ve been concerned about this is that everything has always been so strange and magical to me. So it’s odd that at the age of 22, I look at outer space – the Big Strange – and just think “Eh.”
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