Why Housework is Hard

First of all, I make no blanket claim for anyone else. I am some kind of undiagnosed neurodivergent (probably including inattentive ADHD). But if anyone else feels like this, you're not alone.

There is no such thing as doing the dishes. There is doing a dish. A dish. A dish. Every single dish is a separate choice.

What about a less structured task, like tidy the living room? Much worse.

First, I need to decide which item to pick up. Then decide where it goes. Do I have room in my arms for another thing? Let's decide on another item. Now I'll compare. Do they go in the same spot? Exactly the same spot, or slightly different? Do I go now, or pick up more things? Does someone else in my family disagree about what the right spot is? Did I give enough instruction or warning about where I was going to put this item? I haven't put a single thing away yet and I've already made about twenty decisions. That's a lot of mental energy with no payoff. 

Spending my whole brain on this boring task means I have zero space left for interesting thoughts. I have a whole queue of interesting thoughts and activities with intrinsic rewards. On top of that, spending so much energy on this boring task means that I don't have the mental energy left to block more negative thoughts--comparisons, shame, guilt, imagining terrible consequences for not being good enough. 

Yes, I have some strategies that make it a little easier. Sometimes listening to something interesting helps with dishes. With a distraction, I can sometimes get that "washing dishes is all one thing" mentality that other people seem to have. But that can also backfire and get overwhelming. Plus, my queue of interesting, rewarding thoughts and activities is still getting ignored. 

The biggest help is making really small goals. I'm not going to wash the dishes today. I'm going to wash that one really big pot. And if I have a bit of focus left over, then I can do a few more and get bonus points! I'm not going to clean the living room. I'm going to sit down and sort this one pile into smaller piles. If I have enough focus, I might even deal with a pile or two. It helps. It keeps total chaos at bay. 

Does my house look how I want it to? Does it satisfy those negative thoughts--those comparisons and shame and fear of bad consequences and everything? No, not really. 

But it's something.

My Melting Pot

 I used to wish I had a hometown--somewhere my family and I have lived for more than one generation. None of my ancestors were born and died in the same area for over two hundred years.

We are travelers. Voyagers. For good or ill, we are colonizers, who find a new place and make it home.

America is too young to have a race. We barely have a distinct culture. But what a glorious melting pot we've become!

My great grandmother immigrated from Denmark as a teenager, alone. She became an indentured servant to secure passage to America, and was traded to a different family when they realized she spoke no English. She married the son of a Polish immigrant whose birthplace says "Germany" because Poland didn't exist at the time. Only a few generations divide us, yet in another line, my seventh great-grandfather fought in the Revolutionary War. His ancestors had already lived in this area for four generations.

I am a walking contradiction. Some of my ancestors sacrificed everything so that their children could have a better life. Others found family life too hard and walked away. Some of my ancestors were early members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons), who were persecuted and driven out for their beliefs. My ancestors from another line turned a blind eye--or maybe even joined in. Some of my ancestors are Aleuts from Alaska, while others are the Russians who first subjugated but then joined them. (And no, Aleuts are not vicious otter-killers. Our history is much more complicated. Thanks a lot, Island of the Blue Dolphin). 

Our contradictions are our strength.

At my wedding lunch, my grandfather told everyone that I am descended from royalty and from pig thieves. In other words, he told my new in-laws, I am a mutt. 

Aren't we all?

Isn't that what America is? 

Diversity is not a political buzzword. It's our identity.