ADHD and Waiting Mode

What It Is and How NOT to Cope

Dear Reader Friends,

Hey, it’s Denise, your ADHD OG. Thank you for coming back to suckle from the teat of my neuro-spicy wisdom. Today I thought I’d share with you a unique ADHD “feature.” This will sound peculiar to any normal person, but to the neurodivergent among us, this will sound soooo normal that the non-plussed ADHDers will be saying, “Yeah, AND?”

We ADHDers are complicated creatures because we only have, like, six modes:

1. Overwhelm Paralysis — This describes our inability to get off the couch — what I am told Indica (in da’ couch) imbibers experience. In ADHD Land, this occurs for a few reasons: fear of fear of failure, or, paradoxically, our fear of success and how that success will upset the apple cart of our somewhat boring, predictable lives. Or there’s our analysis paralysis overwhelm at having too many options, so we fear choosing the wrong option. (The too-many-options issue is especially true for me at Barnes & Noble or Costco — I choose ALL the options and then need a nap and a higher-paying job afterwards.)

2. Procrastavoidant Mode — This is when we do everything other than that thing we’re supposed to be doing. There is a method to our madness. This delay enables us to muster up enough panic adrenaline to do the boring task, barely crossing drag-assed over the deadline’s finish line at the 11th hour (and 59 seconds).

3. Dopamining — This describes the thrill-seeking we partake in to get that magical, missing chemical that should be coursing through our brains. Alas, it is not. Some of us shop, overeat, over-drink, gamble, do drugs, smoke, have affairs, or in my case, seek out belly laughs. I’m either dopamining online for funny TikToks, or plotting elaborate practical jokes with checks my ass can’t cash. (Don’t ask me to do math unless I’m budgeting for a prank involving a live farm animal, a marching band, and its transport. Then I’m suddenly a Khan Academy scholar.)

4. Manic Hyperfocus — When something fascinates us, we are in our creative flow. We will muscle through hours of not eating, drinking, taking a piss or poop to keep our hyperfocus going. It feels soooooo good. (The creative flow, that is, not the human waste backup.)

5. Cool Crisis Management Focus — This is where our calm and creativity intersect. Studies show ADHDers’ amygdalas are overdeveloped (that fight-or-flight part of your brain), so we’ve already anticipated every crisis, lost sleep over it, and know what to do when the time comes.

And then there’s the final mode, which is today’s topic:

6. Appointment Freeze, also referred to as “Waiting Mode.”

Social media is a blessing because it has made me realize that I am not the sole weirdo with my kooky quirks. I see my quirks shared throughout ADHD memes all over Reddit and Pinterest. For normies, Waiting Mode is one of my hardest-to-understand quirks.

Waiting Mode is that paralyzing ADHD state where you’re stuck waiting for an upcoming event or appointment. This triggers a combo platter of the ADHDer brain’s executive dysfunction, anxiety, and time blindness all working in concert to overwhelm. We get frozen with fear and anxiety to not get involved with anything beforehand that will cause us to be late or totally forget the appointment altogether. We hit the “pause button” on our day, unable to do anything productive until it’s time to leave for that appointment or make that phone call. A 3 p.m. appointment means an entire day of productivity lost. Poof! Vanished!

I cannot speak for others, but I know why I do it. I’ve been ridiculed most of my life for showing up late. To avoid the pain of adding fodder to my shame-and-humiliation bank — that thought cloud that floats over my head as I lay awake at night re-examining all of my unforced errors — I have to hyperfocus with my entire being to arrive somewhere on time. It’s really a different iteration of Manic Hyperfocus Mode, except the hyperfocus centers around forcing myself to think about nothing so I don’t get hijacked by something intriguing (so this is what meditation feels like? Meh.). This also involves intermittent clock watching and checking the multiple alarms I’ve set on my iPhone, to make sure I’ve set a.m. instead of p.m., which is also a problem.

Lately, I’ve overcompensated. I’ll show up early for appointments, but it’s usually on the wrong day (as my chiropractor’s office manager will attest). An ADHDers’ inability to keep accurate track of dates and times — especially when you throw in different time zones — is another fun “feature” of having an executive functioning disability. Being someone’s admin. or travel agent would be a riskier career move for me than joining the Flying Wallendas.

If I do not employ Waiting Mode, focusing solely on my upcoming appointment, some Facebook Marketplace find or household task that I think will take five minutes (but doesn’t) will derail me. I cannot calculate the amount of time it takes to do something, because time blindness is another executive functioning fail. Experiencing time the way normal people do is not in our ADHD wheelhouse. It’s why my wedding dress needed altering. I just assumed I could drop 20 pounds before the big day, but I waited until one week beforehand to start dieting and ran out of time. We always think we have more time. (I’m pretty sure the term #FAFO was invented for ADHDers.)

In my case, I have two added sub-categories for Waiting Mode:

Tornado-Waiting Mode and Hurricane-Waiting Mode.

Other than editing this article, I’m not engaging in any serious activities today. I’m currently under a massive tornado watch in Pensacola, Florida. Tornado-Waiting Mode is fully on. We live 10 minutes from the airport, so I’m keenly listening for the low rumbles, trying to discern plane vs. tornado.

I’ve known this was coming for two days. I stand ready for the exact moment I must grab my cat and dive into my closet for cover. (I’ve also rehearsed this moment in my head for two days; I figure my clothing will fall on me and shield my body from serious harm while also offering some air pockets for breathability when the roof caves in on me.)

Hurricane-Waiting Mode is even worse than Tornado-Waiting Mode because we have more days of warnings. (As my California friend Cynthia texted me this morning, “Remind me again: WHY do you live there?”)

I don’t know if I’ve ever shared this story with you, so read past the next two paragraphs if I have. Once upon a time in 2004, we had two weeks’ warning for the impending Hurricane Ivan. I was seven months pregnant, my hospital was an hour away, and I had never been in a hurricane. I was in Waiting Mode for two weeks. I just didn’t know what it was back then, as I was still undiagnosed with ADHD. The Gulf was extra warm that year. Every day we watched The Weather Channel to monitor that swirling, slow-moving, circular mass growing. Eventually it covered the entire Gulf before it finally hit us. My anxiety was off the charts.

My friend Angie, who had been evacuated from her Destin home, came with her family to stay with us. She brought a needle and thread in case I delivered early. (She kindly waited until later to tell me that a hurricane’s barometric pressure drop triggers childbirth.) We were all huddled together in our Shalimar, Florida home as a tornado struck, displacing us from mid-September until January 30 of the next year. (I think my husband has the distinction of being the first crowdfunding recipient, because our artist friends sold their artwork online to raise money for our disaster recovery. FEMA finally forked over $300 the end of January).

If you’re thinking there must be a better way to live with ADHD than putting your life on hold every time there’s an appointment, you’re right. There is. Waiting Mode can be conquered. Just don’t do what I do. Do this instead:

Micro-task mitigation: Create a list mini tasks that take five minutes or less, such as taking out the garbage, feeding your pets, cleaning your cat’s litter box, or emptying the dishwasher. Performing micro tasks will make you feel less shitty about yourself if you think you’ve actually accomplished something.

Event prep on paper: Starting with the time of your appointment, write down every step of the day and time it takes, working backwards, to figure out how early you need to initiate Waiting Mode. You’ll still do it, but you won’t assign as big of a time block for Waiting Mode. For example, if your appointment is at noon, you’d write something like:

• Noon appointment

• Driving time is 40 minutes, so leave at 11:15 a.m.

• 1 hour to get ready, so start at 10:00 a.m.

• Wake up at 6 a.m., so I have 4 hours of free time.

This info dump eases your anxiety because your brain no longer has to hold onto this data. Now it’s on paper. (I’d still set an alarm on my phone for 9:55 a.m. to start getting ready by 10 a.m. with a second alarm set for 11:10 a.m.). In this instance, Waiting Mode doesn’t really kick in until 10 a.m.

I know for normal people this seems like a lot of unnecessary prep and a big waste of time, but trust me, our brains have to work overtime to process this scheduling minutiae. It’s exhausting, to be honest.

The mysterious rumbles outside are calling for me to investigate (since my son, now at work, isn’t answering my rapid-fire texts asking if that was a plane or thunder I’m hearing) so I’m cutting this article shorter than I’d planned. Until next time, be well and hopefully, tornado-free.