When I learned I’m neurodivergent, I discovered that means that I struggle with executive function, especially a kind of remembering called “working memory.”
Last week, I reflected on memories of refusing to do a basic care task (cleaning a humidifier) when my kids were little—and how selfish that made me feel. Today, I want to start talking about why I struggled, and how working memory and executive function explain why my limit wasn’t as unreasonable as it seemed.
Autism, ADHD, and Executive Function
Both autism and ADHD are developmental disabilities, and one of the primary hallmarks of each are problems with “executive function.” But what is that?
Here’s what the Harvard Center on the Developing Child has to say:
“Executive function and self-regulation skills are the mental processes that enable us to plan, focus attention, remember instructions, and juggle multiple tasks successfully. Just as an air traffic control system at a busy airport safely manages the arrivals and departures of many aircraft on multiple runways, the brain needs this skill set to filter distractions, prioritize tasks, set and achieve goals, and control impulses.”
The article goes on to name three components of executive function: working memory, flexibility, and self-control. Let’s focus on working memory today.
Working Memory and Exhaustion
I’ve mentioned before that I have almost no working memory. I constantly must remind myself of what I’m doing to stay on task.
For instance, I’ve had the same breakfast every day for fifteen years. When I make it, I have to pause every minute or two to check in with myself: did I remember to boil water? Have I salted the eggs? Did I remember to put the bread in the toaster? If I get distracted—like if one of my children ask me a question, or I give into the impulse to look at my phone—I lose the plot. Yes, even for a sequence I have done thousands of times.
I have no autopilot. At least not functional autopilot. My autopilot is wandering around the house with my nose in a book, the laundry half-folded, the dishes undone, my children calling for my help without me hearing them, while never managing to work on anything more consequential than a cascade of forgotten essentials.*
Forget creative work, or making connections with other people, or advocating for justice. There is just me in my slippers, my teeth unbrushed, constantly being caught off guard by how much I let slide without noticing.
Being productive when you have no working memory is exhausting, because you can never take for granted, even for a moment, that you will remember the next step.
I have learned to cope with poor working memory with a few tools:
- Checklists. I have a chore app, an outfit picker, shopping lists, and multiple to-do lists in my Bullet Journal. When I plan a project, I make multiple, highly detailed and exhaustive to do lists and update them constantly. If I think of something, I must record it immediately on a list. When I find myself in a fog, I consult them. Why yes, maintaining and checking lists is tiring. Glad you asked.
- Habits. When in doubt, I do things the same way, over and over. This is autism, but it’s also survival. If it’s this hard for me to make eggs and toast every morning, can you imagine how hard it would be if my menu varied? Whenever possible, I try to eliminate decision making or thinking because it’s a quagmire. When my schedule changes, like on a holiday, I inevitably forget stuff, because I am not cued.
- Research and systems thinking. Probably because of my autism, I’m really, really good at problem solving. I can think very systematically, do research easily, and understand how to incorporate what I learn into my daily life. In that way, learned how to compensate for deficits I didn’t eve know I had. Still, that amount of effortful learning takes energy too.
How Poor Working Memory Looks like Selfishness but is More About Overwhelm
Neither I nor my husband had any idea how hard I was working just to stay on task and not forget to feed my children. I require a LOT of mental energy to do stuff others do automatically. Which means that back when my children were little and there was a TON of stuff to do, I felt near the end of my rope all the time.
Add to that them getting sick and all of us not sleeping well? It’s no wonder I drew somewhat arbitrary lines in the sand about doing one more thing that only took ten minutes but felt like it might drown me (because in the moment, that’s how it felt).
Honestly, there are a lot of times as a parent (even under incredibly good circumstances, like enough money in the bank and my husband’s ridiculously flexible schedule) where I was just hanging on by my fingernails. That sense of overwhelm, coupled with my trauma, can make me act a little, um, feral. It was out of self-preservation.
That fact used to make me feel selfish, or even histrionic. I’d get that upset over ten minutes of work?
Now that I know the load I’ve been carrying all this time?
I have a lot more compassion.
Selfishness is about valuing yourself more than others. Poor working memory, on the other hand, is exhausting, meaning you have to work much harder to function “normally.” Get overwhelmed enough with that struggle, and you might have to cut something seemingly essential to not lose your grip. It’s not about not caring. It’s about not having a choice.
Next week, we’ll talk about the second kind of executive function: flexibility. Guess what? I struggle a LOT with that—which makes it really hard for me to juggle priorities.
For now, I’m curious. Are you desperate, like I was, to learn how to be kinder with yourself as-is?
Subscribe below and get kind, helpful info about making peace with ourselves in your inbox each month.*To be clear: I don’t think my autopilot is necessarily a bad thing. At the right time, it’s a restful and lovely flow state. However, if you have a desire to grow in a career, it’s very, very frustrating, and, as a caregiver, sometimes even dangerous. So learning how to manage poor working memory is an essential skill.
