Quieting the Squirrel Within
Before my ataxia was diagnosed, I could effectively multitask–at least I think so. Anyway, I could have more than one ball in the air, welcome a conversational interruption, and return to my prioritized tasks. After my diagnosis, I had admit that my brain couldn't do that as well. I dropped balls, jobs, words, to-dos—you name it. Ataxia means loss of coordination. That meant it was high risk to do more than one activity, like walking and talking. A lot of people wrote my behavior off to rudeness rather than focus. Maintaining focus on the matter at hand became important in a way it never was before. Now, it actually involved (gulp) safety. I found myself sidetracked by interruptions. It was so easy to get distracted from the task at hand and then forget what the task was. Ataxia, aging—who cares? That was when I realized, like everything else, I was somewhere on the Distraction Spectrum. Some days I am on the low end and some days on the higher end.
My cognition was still reasonable, as long as I didn't push it. The goal became controlling my 'squirrel effect' so that I could maintain function and some productivity. The good news is, I can consciously control it, at this point in time. As soon as I feel distracted from a task, I refocus. The mantra—eyes straight ahead, 1–2–3, take steps in order. I never used to have to think about everything I did.* Now, getting dressed, putting clean dishes away, even walking, is a series of sequential steps. Another bullet to bite!
While I don't suffer from a full–blown 'Sundowner's Syndrome', I'm definitely mentally sharper, less distractible, and physically stronger in the early part of the day. I used to wonder why physician offices always asked about the preferred time of day. I always thought it was a scheduling issue. Now I get it.
The tendency toward distraction lends itself to more 'I can't believe I did that' moments. I used to beat myself up when experiencing one. Then I remembered I had always had them. In fact, nearly everyone has an 'I can't believe I did that' story, regardless of their age, mental, or physical status. I no longer felt like the Lone Ranger. However, they are more frequent now.
The lesson: Pay freakin' ATTENTION, Tam. The main thing is to keep the main thing, the ma...SQUIRREL.
*Previous post: In the kitchen: one step at a time
My cognition was still reasonable, as long as I didn't push it. The goal became controlling my 'squirrel effect' so that I could maintain function and some productivity. The good news is, I can consciously control it, at this point in time. As soon as I feel distracted from a task, I refocus. The mantra—eyes straight ahead, 1–2–3, take steps in order. I never used to have to think about everything I did.* Now, getting dressed, putting clean dishes away, even walking, is a series of sequential steps. Another bullet to bite!
While I don't suffer from a full–blown 'Sundowner's Syndrome', I'm definitely mentally sharper, less distractible, and physically stronger in the early part of the day. I used to wonder why physician offices always asked about the preferred time of day. I always thought it was a scheduling issue. Now I get it.
The tendency toward distraction lends itself to more 'I can't believe I did that' moments. I used to beat myself up when experiencing one. Then I remembered I had always had them. In fact, nearly everyone has an 'I can't believe I did that' story, regardless of their age, mental, or physical status. I no longer felt like the Lone Ranger. However, they are more frequent now.
The lesson: Pay freakin' ATTENTION, Tam. The main thing is to keep the main thing, the ma...SQUIRREL.
*Previous post: In the kitchen: one step at a time
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