More Than a Dinner Party
By Terri Fitts, LMHC
The marshmallows on top of the sweet potato casserole were in flames. I was able to attend to the problem with a compassionate chuckle, but there was a day when that would not have been my response. As someone with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), I find that harsh internal dialogue and big emotions can often strike during or after a mishap. Although practicing hospitality in our home has been one of the most consistent and enjoyable parts of my life, at times it has been a chaotic space.
The door swings open, guests joyfully arrive, and my excitement heightens. I navigate the busy commotion of greeting adults and children, offering beverages, answering questions, putting flowers in vases, finishing cooking tasks, calming the dog, responding to my husband and family, and trying to keep an eye on the oven timer.
Then, in a fraction of a second, everything happens at once. Emotional lightning rods begin to spark. As the host, I'm tracking conversations, refilling drinks, checking on the food, greeting late arrivals, and trying to remember what still needs to be done. Details become overwhelming, distractions abound, and time blindness sets in—is the casserole still in the oven? Did I ever put out the ice? Every unmet task competes for attention, creating a ping-pong effect in my mind and body as I bounce from one need to the next, never quite finishing the one before.
When engaging many interests all at once, I have at times anguished over my perceived failure to “do it well, do it on time, and do it calmly.” You may resonate with the myriad of details and relationships in similar experiences if you suspect or have been assessed for ADHD. Most often, the ADHD brain needs interest, urgency, novelty, or external pressure to engage and finish a task. To sift through all the unnecessary information and distractions requires a growing skill set and plenty of self-compassion.
When I am kind to myself, I accept my brain, along with the overwhelm, emotional dysregulation, moments of time blindness, rabbit trails, relational hiccups, and yes, even burning some food along the way. Then, from a posture of acceptance toward myself, I can move toward strategies, practices, and safe people who help me.
Gracious responses from guests about dinner do soothe my soul, and I am pleased with “my work” over the years: paying attention, observing internal boundaries, strengthening various skills that regulate my nervous system, and most importantly, growing safe attachments with people who can offer care. A consistent, multi-modal approach has released me from self-loathing and negative responses to my neurodivergent brain.
Recently, while I was preparing dinner in the kitchen, a guest asked, “How is your work going, and how is your family?” I answered, “Thank you for asking. Let me put those questions on pause while I take the casserole out of the oven, and then I'll share when I can focus on those great questions!”
Ahhh, it felt good not to “do it all” by trying to converse, share meaningfully, and serve the food all at once. No need to scramble, feel scattered, or answer important questions in the moment. I was attentive to my own need to pause and focus on dinner details.
While the stakes are not high in my scenario of hospitality, the stakes can feel high in professional roles or family and community gatherings. Possibly, you may resonate with this sense of high stakes in your own work life or family relationships. Navigating daily routines, job roles, interpersonal conflicts, motivation, planning, and prioritizing goals can feel big with a brain that tries to do twenty things at once while staying emotionally regulated. In daily life, neurodivergent thinking patterns and emotional dysregulation can collide and create a dreadful cycle that may create fires internally and externally.
Dr. Tamara Rosier, author of Your Brain’s Not Broken: Strategies for Navigating Your Emotions and Life with ADHD, names “monkeys” such as Angry Andrew, Anxious Amy, Avoidant Anthony, Critical Calvin, Disorganized Derek, Overwhelmed Oscar, Rejection-Sensitive Rachel, and Time-Blind Timmy, just to name a few. These monkeys do not derail me as they once did.
Today, I am grateful to be able to increase intentional, loving dialogue with myself, problem-solve, remove self-judgment, and feel self-compassion. Focus, consistency, self-care, and relational health are consistent goals and areas of growth for me. I have not dismissed or disconnected from the parts of myself that need compassion and advocacy.
You too are welcome to the table, as there is always an open spot for you to pay attention, grow your skills, and care well for your neurodivergent brain. It will be more than a dinner party.
