(Handle with care until further notice.)
When D’s overwhelmed, he turns into a human grizzly bear. Short-tempered, irritable — it can be like walking on eggshells when we are around him.
Right now, we’re juggling a lot: the kids heading back to school, tutoring schedules shifting, after-school sports starting up — and, just to spice things up, a new, more intensive medication that requires dedicated time each week.
But it’s not just the chaos. I think he’s also feeling the impending doom of being alone all day again. The kids won’t be around to give him an excuse to play video games with them all day (kidding… mostly). Seriously though, the quiet of a school schedule can be daunting. It happens every year — the start of school, the long breaks, the end of school. Rinse and repeat. But today, it felt especially intense.
With all of this rolling around in my head tonight, I think I just connected the dots: this emotional overwhelm D was feeling is actually an ADHD symptom. I’ve always known ADHD came with executive function struggles, forgetfulness, and that hyperfocus thing where he suddenly realizes he’s been researching 19th-century shipbuilding for six hours… but I didn’t fully get that emotional regulation can also take a hit. And that big life transitions — even the good ones — can feel like herding caffeinated cats in the dark.
I think I missed this connection because D’s been doing a lot of work in therapy, and it shows. He’s getting more self-aware about his moods, which is a huge win. Tonight at dinner, he even told the kids, “Dad’s a little irritated today, just know it’s not towards you guys.” That’s progress. That’s a grizzly bear who can at least warn you before you wander into the cave.
I’m proud of him for that. But I’m also realizing this means the moodiness isn’t just “having a bad day” — it’s part of the ADHD package. And knowing that changes how I see it. It makes it easier to step back instead of rushing in to “fix” it (my personal bad habit). My instinct is always to burst in with a motivational pep talk — which, ironically, is the last thing he wants.
At least now we both know what’s happening when the overwhelm sets in. And maybe that’s the first step in not letting it spiral.
Why Are We Crying? 