As a kid, cleaning was my worst nightmare. I remember having screaming matches with my mom about the clothes in piles mixed with my toys and random papers of artwork and doodles. I remember getting crafty at hiding my mess and disorganized chaos; under my bed lived a pile of books and paperwork, and in my drawers lived a conglomerate of clothing that belonged on hangers or in specific drawers. As an adult, I look back on my rejection of cleaning as early signs that I had ADHD. I failed to keep anything organized, I lost everything, I would get distracted by everything around me, and the thought of putting anything away caused me to shut down completely.
The irony of being 29 and living in an apartment with my boyfriend is that I love cleaning. I love organizing my bookshelves to look beautiful, vacuuming my floors, and fluffing my couch so that it appears picturesque. I thrive on sipping my coffee while my washing machine works, my dishwasher runs, and my air purifier quietly hums in the corner. When my home is clean, I am calm and comfortable.
As an adult with ADHD, I continue to struggle with staying on task when I am on my medication breaks. Cleaning is the one activity where, if I get distracted, I am still doing something productive. As a therapist, I ironically did not focus my studies on ADHD at all; I focused on trauma and substance abuse, so now I have a therapist who concentrates on ADHD and helps me find coping skills to maintain my neurodivergent brain. I have learned to be more compassionate when beating myself up over forgetting the basics. When I wander away from a task, I pull myself back into the focus by pausing.
ADHD is not easy, but it can be a superpower in disguise. I have a wild amount of energy for particular projects, so I communicate with my boyfriend about what I can do and what I will need support with. When it comes to cleaning, he knows I will not touch dishes under any circumstance. I am more than happy to clean the stove, air fryer, and refrigerator, but the second dishes pile up in the sink, and he knows that is the task I need support with.
Cleaning has become my weekend therapy and routine, allowing me to ground myself and practice gratitude. I have a beautiful apartment with heating, a washer and dryer, and a backyard. I live in a gorgeous area with four dog parks within walking distance, and I have pretty rad neighbors. My cleaning reminds me that I am fortunate enough to have all these things and have something to take care of.