“Whoa, looks like I got a little carried away with the pitchfork,” I muttered, looking out the window to see a small fountain shooting from the soaker hose.
“Huh? What’s wrong?” says my husband with alarm in his voice, peering over his impromptu shield, The New York Times.
“Relax, I just punctured the hose when I was digging out those dahlias yesterday. A piece of it was buried in the dirt, and I didn’t see it.”
“Shew!” he says, chuckling and relaxing back into the Week in Review. “I’m glad it was you who goofed up and not me.” Living for a few decades with unrecognized ADHD can make a person a bit…gunshy, always half-expecting to be reamed out for some unintentional, unforeseen consequence. Moreover, living with a domestically and logistically high-functioning mate can bring dispiriting “less-than” comparisons.
Yet, in a sense, that’s the beauty of being married to my husband instead of one of the many engineers I dated in my youth. Make no mistake: They were wonderful men all, with unerring ability to perform tasks (from oil changes to computer-memory upgrades) methodically, carefully, logically. It carried a certain comforting charm that smacked of maturity and reliability.
The dark side of this reliability: A chronic inability to make non-linear leaps — or to fully trust people who can. Commit one deed that struck them as “illogical” and look out. My husband is plenty brilliant, accomplished in areas that I can understand only superficially, but he’s not a judgmental perfectionist (except when I tried to make a healthy pie crust out of ground almonds; a man has to draw the line somewhere).
So, to me, one of the sweetest things my husband can say to me is, “You do so many things well, that it’s always a relief when you demonstrate that you’re not perfect.” Moreover, he never gets angry with me for bone-headed moves — because he knows whatever he says, it can never be as tough as what I’ll tell myself — and he’s always supportive of my endeavors, including writing a book that meant ADHD was the topic of too many conversations.
No, this has nothing to do with the ADHD Partner Survey. I just think it’s important to take a break sometimes and remember why we love our partners with ADHD, even as we honestly validate the challenges many of us face — and then learn to compassionately work through the challenges.
Initially, maybe you were attracted to your ADHD partner’s spontaneity, only to find that he or she had no choice but to be spontaneous; planning was impossible! Or, perhaps your ADHD partner’s ability to make you laugh — from that first date to your 25th anniversary — has held you together during the rough times.
Perhaps that person you fell in love with is still right there by your side. But maybe that person has somehow–inexplicably, strangely, annoyingly–disappeared!
Let’s visit the world of ADHD relationship stereotypes, where you’ll find this common assumption: A fun-loving person with ADHD (a passionate, creative, carefree, and spontaneous life-of-the-party type) pairs with a clock-watching, deadline-meeting, spirit-dampening, laundry-folding, i-dotting, dour, dull, and dutiful mate. Surely a match made in heaven, right? After all, opposites attract, don’t they?
Let’s continue with more answers to this question in the ADHD Partner survey: “What do you wish you’d known earlier about Adult ADHD?” As you can see, the question touched a nerve with survey respondents, the partners of adults with ADHD.
We’ve all heard the classic way that adults discover they might have ADHD: Their child is diagnosed. Upon learning the symptoms, they say, “Wow, that sounds just like I used to be!” And the spouse says, “What do you mean, used to be.”
If your partner has ADHD, you’d surely know it, right? The signs would have been obvious from the very beginning of the relationship, right?


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