Tag Archives: ADHD

Why Meditation Doesn’t Work for My ADHD Brain — and What Does Help

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Fastest way to make my blood boil? Besides, “take a deep breath?” Tell me to “just meditate.” Here’s the thing –> I can’t. I’ve tried. I cried once when I tried to meditate because I felt so frustrated. That was shortly after my marriage ended.

Okay, maybe that is actually why I cried. Either way, super fun times. Meditating just isn’t my thing. It makes me feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. It makes all the chitter-chatter in my ADHD brain even louder. More obnoxious. I know, I know. The irony is far from lost on me. These are all reasons why I NEED to meditate. Noted. “Keep trying,” they say. “Your nervous system needs it,” they say. “I know,” I say.

It just isn’t my thing right now. So…I beach instead. I walk in the waves. I listen to the seagulls. I stare out at the ocean. I don’t meditate. I beach. And wouldn’t you know… I recently read an article about how spending time near the ocean can have some of the same calming effects as meditation.

When you stare at the ocean, there’s very little visual disruption. The mind naturally rests a bit. And then there are the blues, the sound of the rhythmic waves and the gentle breeze. All of it can be soothing to the body.

When I go to the beach… my mind focuses on the sounds of the ocean. On the breeze. On everything in front of me—which isn’t a lot—instead of everything in my mind, which is a whole lot of heavy. The beach is an entire sensory experience for me. And my mind focuses on just that. My mind settles. Everything in my head quiets. The only noises I hear are the soothing ones from the beach. The gulls. The waves. The breeze.

Sometimes even the laughter of kids. I don’t hear the noise of worry. I don’t hear the noise of stress. I don’t hear the noise of “Mom, Mom.” I don’t hear the noise of my to-do list. I don’t meditate. I beach. Unfortunately, I don’t beach enough.

But today I do, and it feels great. My biggest problem today is that someone’s gonna have to get me off the beach! I never, ever want to leave. I know a lot of people feel that way.

But for me, I also know it says something about how much my mind and body need places where everything feels quieter. I don’t live at the beach or even near it.

But my backyard feels a little bit like an oasis, and inside my house, I chip away at making it feel more and more like a beach house. With minimal visual interruption and maximum blues.

And I do all of this happily…even though everyone reminds me, “You don’t live at the beach, so why do you make your house look like one?” Um…because I don’t live at the beach. Obviously! Or, as a teenager recently said to me: “Obvi.” Obvi.

Okay then… If you don’t meditate—and you feel guilty like I sometimes do because everyone seems to do it and you should “just meditate”—please know there are other ways to find a similar feeling. Find what quiets the noise for you. I don’t meditate. I beach.

And I beach happily. Sending my warmth to you today, especially if you are seeking a little more quiet too.

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

Don’t Let a Disability Tell You What You’re Capable Of

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There is no polite way for me to write this post. I’ve actually waited a few days (and months) so I could be “cool, calm, and collected.” Truth? I’m not sure I will ever be entirely cool, calm, and collected about this. This post is for any parent, child, or person who has ever been told they weren’t good enough because they have a disability. Or because they learn differently. Or because they learn more slowly. Do not, I repeat, do not, let anyone tell you that you are not good enough to become what you want to become.

I have four sons. I’m sharing this with permission. One of my sons has severe ADHD, auditory processing and other learning challenges. He was bullied by students and teacher aides alike. In 6th grade, an aide said to him, “You will never go to college or succeed.” Imagine if he had listened?!

Well, he didn’t. Instead, he basically said, “Oh yeah? Watch me.” He is now at a top college, on scholarship, getting good grades, and studying to become a special education teacher. Because he had a few of us rooting for him, pointing out to him the good we saw in him; his strengths, his opportunities. We believed in him until he could for himself.

Another one of my sons has struggled since kindergarten. In 3rd grade, his teacher told him, “We don’t have books at your reading level in this classroom. You’re a big kid now. You need to try harder. Stop being lazy.” Lazy? I told her to look at the facts. To look at everything else he could do; how hard he worked, how hard he was trying to find ways to help himself read! I said, “He is not lazy. He is struggling to read. There is something we are missing. Help.”

Fast forward two years. I asked the elementary school principal for extra support going into middle school. “We don’t proactively add support.” Right…

Middle school was a challenge. His mental health took a hit; his homework, tests, quizzes, you name it, took a hit. A child who used to love learning, who tried so hard, slowly stopped trying. I pushed again for help. And I was asked, “Are you sure you’re not being a helicopter parent? Overbearing? Maybe trying to get him extra help just so he gets A’s? We see that a lot in this town.”

The fact that I stayed polite at that moment?

Honestly, a true Orange Rhino® moment. Because no. That was not it. I said, “He is masking. He is truly struggling. You’re missing it. I need you to trust me.” They didn’t. They kept insisting he needed to try harder.

And now? That child has an IEP because one person finally listened to me. One person took the time to look beyond the struggles to see the strengths. My son has a learning disability, including a form of dyslexia.

And the testing showed it is not mild. Cue the tears. Cue my rage. Cue the heartbreak of knowing I was right and that it took years to get him all of the support he needed. (I had gotten him other support but what he needed most was in school.) But here is what I need people to understand: A child (anyone really) who learns differently should not be written off. Different pace. Different path. Different strengths.

Still capable. Still worthy. Still full of potential. My boys are proof of that. Their struggles have built empathy. Determination. Resilience. Leadership qualities. Yes, I wish parts of their journey had been easier. Of course I do.

And I know they feel the same. But who they have become because they kept going? Because they had to try harder to learn and to (sadly) prove themselves to the world and sometimes to themselves? I would not change who they have become for the world. Who they are in heart, grit, perspective, and character is second to none.

So let me say this loudly: Let’s stop confusing disability with inability. A disability is not a disqualification. And different does not mean less. (argh!) Sending my warmth and a little extra oomph to you all today and always, and an extra amount of love and support to any parent who knows and feels this post all too well.

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

ADHD and Perimenopause: Why Women Deserve to Be Believed

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Nothing says “support women” quite like questioning their diagnosis. We tell women to advocate for their health and then question the answer when they finally get one. I’m grateful there’s more conversation happening around perimenopause and women’s health. It is needed and it matters.

But there’s something about the conversation that has really been getting under my skin. Here’s the tricky thing: A lot of perimenopause symptoms can overlap with ADHD symptoms at first glance. And because of that, I keep seeing comments and videos — from other women, mind you — basically questioning whether women diagnosed with ADHD later in life really have it… or whether they’re “just perimenopausal.” And wow, does that get under my skin.

Because yes, some of us really do have ADHD. And yes, some of us are also in perimenopause. And yes, perimenopause can make ADHD even harder to manage. Those things can all be true at once. What frustrates me is this: We constantly tell women to trust themselves. To listen to their bodies. To advocate for their health. To keep pushing until they get answers because they know their bodies best.

But then when a woman finally does get an answer — and knows it’s right, feels the relief, finally exhales — people turn around and question whether it’s real. No thank you. That doesn’t feel like support. That feels like more dismissal. My ADHD signs were there long before perimenopause.

They were there in elementary school. “Sheila, raise your hand.” “Sheila, stop talking.”

They were there in how overwhelmed I got. “Sheila… she’s the emotional one.”

They were there in how hard I worked to stay organized. Binders were — and still are — my best friend.

They were there in the way I needed systems, structure, lists, and detail just to keep my brain from feeling all over the place. I’ll never forget the to-do list and Excel spreadsheet I made for my wedding. It was a masterpiece. My ex’s friend looked at it. Looked at me. Looked at it again.“Sheila… this is a bit intense, don’t ya think?” Oh, it was. But I needed every detail captured and tied to a time or I would have been lost. Side note: the marriage didn’t last, but the wedding was indeed phenomenal. So many wonderfully executed details. Thank you, ADHD creativity and hyperfocus.

So no, I wasn’t “suddenly ADHD” because I hit my 40s. I was a girl who learned how to compensate. A girl who tried really hard. A girl who looked capable from the outside while working overtime on the inside. A girl, then a college student, then a mom, who was absolutely exhausted.

And I know I’m not the only one. So yes…women should absolutely keep talking about perimenopause. And also about how it impacts ADHD women. And while we’re at it, let’s also stop acting like late-diagnosed ADHD in women is some suspicious trend people are latching on to. It isn’t. Trust me. There are upsides to ADHD and also, some real, not so popular, challenges. The diagnosis didn’t come out of nowhere. It just took a while — too long, really — to receive it.

And gosh, is it a relief to have. To finally understand myself better; to realize I’m not broken. And again, to know I’m not the only one. On that note, I’m going to take my medication, make a list for the day, then talk to myself to help keep me on task and remembering what I’m doing. Oh the things we learn!

Sending my warmth and a little oomph to you all today,

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

ADHD, Forgotten Dry Cleaning and the Humbling Reality of Everyday Life

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I was so proud. And oh so quickly humbled. Please tell me someone out there has the same story?! Y’all… the dry cleaning in this picture? Take a guess at the date on the ticket. Go on. If you’re guessing January 2026… Nope. December 2025? Not even close. September 2025. SEPTEMBER. What even is that?!

And the wild part is…I was so proud of myself yesterday. First, I actually did my laundry like a functioning adult: put it in the washer, moved it to the dryer on time, and even took it out within a reasonable amount of time.

Honestly? I felt unstoppable. Then I thought, “Oh! The dry cleaner is on the way to the dentist. I can drop off my winter sweaters and pick up my pink button-down for spring.” Planning ahead. Following through. Managing life. Who was this girl?! The day before, I had even gotten myself to a doctor’s appointment on time by setting a timer, getting up when it went off, and staying on task all the way to the car. Again, who is this girl?!

I was so proud of myself. So pumped up. What the what?! I mean… is this what 48 is? Being genuinely excited that you followed through on basic tasks? Being genuinely excited that you’re finally figuring out how to manage ADHD while perimenopause is totally trying to make everything harder? Because if so… wow.

This is…humbling. Also maybe a sign to put “plan actual fun” on the calendar immediately. (Pause. Doing that now. You know, so I don’t forget.) I’m back.

So, yesterday I was feeling good. Proud. On a roll. I got to the dry cleaners. Got out of the car. Walked inside. And then… Guess what I did not have with me? The sweaters. Thankfully they were still in the car, so fine. Minor embarrassment. No crisis.

But then I asked for my pink shirt… …and she came back with the shirt and four other items. FOUR. From SEPTEMBER. This, my friends, is exactly why I do not do dry cleaning. I either lose the ticket… or forget the clothes exist entirely.

So yes, “pick up dry cleaning” now officially just got added as another task in Google Calendar. Oh Google Calendar task list… I’d be lost without you. Who am I kidding?

Still a little lost over here. But definitely less lost with you. Please tell me your version of this so I can feel less alone. I’m going to be kind and drop a few more in the comments so we all feel less alone. (As I drink my cold coffee. Not iced. Cold.) Sending my warmth and a little oomph to you today and always,

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

Anxiety vs. Depression: What I Misunderstood About My Own Symptoms

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I was shocked to receive the diagnosis: anxiety. For years, the word used to describe some of my grayer days was depression.

Turns out, a lot of what I thought was depression was actually anxiety. But I didn’t realize that at the time. Something happened when my oldest was about 6 and my youngest was about 1. One of my friends made a loving comment that I seemed a lot less anxious around my kids that day. At first I was aghast. How dare she? What? Me? Anxious? I’m cool. Calm. Collected.

But she was right. My heart wasn’t racing as much. My brain also wasn’t. And my shirt, well, it didn’t need to go to the dry cleaner that day. My oldest has severe ADHD. My anxiety was through the roof when he was younger, driven by my worries about what people would say about us in public or in private settings. Her comment made me reflect on how I acted and how I parented. It helped me start to change some of my behaviors. (Which was a good thing, because those were the early days of The Orange Rhino Challenge®.) Fast forward five years to my divorce era.

I was talking with my therapist about how hard the days were. She mentioned treating me for situational depression. I agreed. Then she said, “And I think you should mention anxiety to the psychiatrist too.” There it was again. The A word. “What?” I said. “I don’t have anxiety.” But then I paused. My therapist was right. And you know what? It was an incredible relief to accept that.

Turns out, so much of my “depression” was actually driven by anxiety. (Not long after, I also learned ADHD was part of my struggles. Like my skin cancer, that diagnosis took a lot of advocating. A story for another day.) I’ve learned a lot about anxiety since that day in my therapist’s office. She taught me a lot of skills. I taught myself a lot about, well… me.

But the best thing I ever learned? This: Try your best to not worry now. Wait until you know facts. If your fears don’t come true, you wasted energy and felt bad for no reason. If they do come true? Then they hurt twice — in the moment, and in all the anxious moments leading up to it. Mic. Drop. The picture in this post? It’s my current hairstyle.

And it is sooooo much better than I expected. My anxiety was understandable — I don’t dismiss it. I try to understand what it’s telling me.

But I’m also grateful I didn’t wallow in it for weeks leading up to the procedure (a few hours here and there? Yep. Totally did. I’m human) Because when I used to wallow in anxiety, I snapped at my kids more. I wasn’t as present as I wanted to be. And when I was present? I wasn’t exactly fun to be around. I was on edge. Which meant I enjoyed fewer moments. I spiraled during the day, got off track, and then felt even more anxious at night.

My relationship with anxiety still needs work. (Don’t most relationships?) Teenagers driving, going to college, making big decisions on their own will absolutely test anxiety. But I’m doing better. And I’m grateful for my therapist. And for that friend years ago who planted the seed. Sometimes one honest comment is the beginning of a completely different life. We just have to be open to hearing it. I know. Easier said than done.

So. Much. Easier. Kinda like managing anxiety. If depression, anxiety, or ADHD are part of your story, welcome. I get it. And if you don’t have a formal diagnosis but perimenopause has brought on some very similar symptoms… also welcome. Heck, welcome everyone. Sending my warmth to you, today and always,

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

Late-Diagnosed ADHD, Perimenopause and Sensory Overload

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I’ve been meaning to write about life as a late diagnosed ADHD lady since October is ADHD awareness month but lol, I have ADHD so you know, I forgot/got distracted/struggle to follow through, IYKYK. Perimenopause has absolutely made it worse, like way worse. And you know what else does? Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD).

I was SO excited the other day! It was the first real sweater day. I took out my favorite orange sweater. Favorite because of how it looks – not how it feels. I put it on. I tried. Oh did I. I lasted 15 minutes before I had to change. It just felt toooo heavy, even though there are times when my body needs the heavy, the weight to feel better, when –  get this – life feels too heavy. The sweater hit in all the wrong places that morning and annoyed me…which set off my ADHD. I couldn’t focus for shite. I think I re-heated my coffee three times in the span of five minutes because I kept forgetting that I already had. True story.

Between heatings, I pulled at the sweater and tried to pep-talk myself into working through the discomfort. The thing is, when my SPD is in a mood, there is no talking my way out of it. Upstairs I went, to put on a new orange sweater, because obviously! This time I intentionally went SNUG, tight like a hug. Phew, sensory meltdown averted. Outfit stayed on all day until dinner time when I was so exhausted from an actual productive day (thank you ADHD medication and new tools I am using to help me stay on task) that I craved soft and cozy.

My brain was fried though. An hour after feeding everyone (Taco Monday around here!) I realized I was starving! Rice, beans, a little taco meat and cilantro was my main meal that night…but I forgot to eat. SO typical. Like beyond. At least I hadn’t left the stove on this time 😉 None of these actions were intentional. I wasn’t trying to make my day harder. My brain was just braining, as it does! I write that because I know there is a chance you know someone with ADHD or even SPD and maybe sharing that, sharing these stories helps a little to understand them, their experience.

When I was a kid, my SPD was dismissed, criticized, blamed. As was I.

“Just eat the food, there are no nuts. You are being too sensitive,” My grandma said.

Yes there were. I hated the texture. I gagged.

“Hurry up, your clothes are fine. The itching will stop.”

No it won’t, let me change. I will be in a better mood.

When I was a kid, my ADHD behaviors were seen, but not entirely criticized because I was a people pleaser. I worked hard to hide the behaviors that were called out once – and rarely again. I found a note at my parents house recently. It was from me to incoming 4th graders.

“You will do fine as long as you sit still, don’t talk a lot, write neatly, don’t blurt out answers, and don’t fidget. Oh and if you have to chew gum, do it quietly and do NOT blow bubbles.”

It was as if I was reading a letter to my sons;) –> The best part of having ADHD and SPD? Sometimes my ADHD makes my mind go so fast in so many different directions that as I try to slow it down and make sense of it all, my body physically gets overwhelmed and overheated which leads to an SPD meltdown. Legit, it’s a lot of fun. Kidding. It’s not. It stinks and often leads to an outfit change in huff and a puff 😉 Learning to manage this as I raise kids with some of the same challenges has been a gift—and a challenge.

Oh wait, I just thought of another highlight 😉 Thanks to SPD, I strongly dislike wearing anything that offers sun protection—read, anything that protects me from getting more skin cancer. Nothing ever hits right or feels right; everything almost always annoys. Hats. Sunglasses. Coverups. Sunscreen.

But I have no choice. The fun part?! I just about always forget something. Creating habits and sticking to them are not easy for us ADHD’ers even when we try out darndest. We want to do well, trust me. I share these stories to say, us ADHDers, us SPDers, we’re doing our best. These so-called disorders do present challenges but also, they make me, me and honestly give me some of my favorite strengths. Creativity. Attention to detail. Problem Solving. Appreciation of beauty. Empathy. I see all the ADHDers doing their best in a world that can be loud, distracting, and demanding. I see all the SPDers doing their best in a world that can be loud, sensory overwhelming and really-unavoidingly-smelly at times! I see all of you doing your best in environments where you can’t control anything but how you prepare, how you adjust, how you respond, how you care for yourself afterwards so you are best prepared for the next time.

And you know what else? I see everyone in perimenopause and menopause without ADHD or SPD because I know you are starting to experience similar symptoms I’ve had my entire life. Hot flashes suck, right?! (I get sensory flashes from the wrong clothes, smells I can’t stand) Brain fog? Not remembering where you put something? (Hi, ADHD on a standard day.) I see you all and as always, sending my warmth to go with your strength, especially if today is feeling like a meltdown, three outfits, where the heck did I put my brain;) kinda day.

Girl, I couldn’t find my coffee for 10 minutes today.

xoxo, Sheila
🧡 The Orange Rhino