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How do you survive family dinners? Sitting at a table until everyone is done? Overstimulation? Sticky conversations and setting boundaries? David and Isabelle talk concrete tips for getting through family dinners, and even enjoying them—and the truth behind ear worm songs’ lyrics that may pop your Thanksgiving Day Parade Spiderman balloons.
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David and Isabelle name that any time you’re meeting with family, traveling, disrupting routine, and then you throw in kids—how do we do this? Let’s start with dinner, and then work our way back to how you get there. Whenever you’re going out to eat with family…family is a tricky word. Family describes ritual—people who get together at different times, don’t have to be related. Whoever is in your network, where you go. Kids really need help knowing the story behind people, understanding the story behind Uncle Jack and Aunt Sue—it can help create connecting moments by throwing in novelty. Kids can be really honest and if it’s boring, they may ask: “Why are you boring?” Also, we love Aunt Sue. Partners might use this, too, not just kids. Let alone how family stuff can be so loaded, you may not want to share the same room with some people, there can be anxiety, and anticipatory dread. Part when you’re going to go visit v. hosting—how do we cope with the different layers of anxiety. With a heavier family situation—bring the toolbox, especially with kids. Before you leave, have a backpack, help your child pick toys (even if they’re 14), headphones, and talk about where you can use your phone or play games. What about the interesting power struggle of having kids sit at the table until everyone is finished eating—let’s think about that differently, because sitting for that long is so hard for kids, and adults, with ADHD—and why is hosting so FUN, because you’re always translating your restlessness into effective hosting. Most people with ADHD fall into really good host and amazing networker, and we can also know how to help people feel connected and welcome because we know how hard it can be to be isolated. Take breaks with your child. Be honest about how long it’s going to be (like 3.5 hours, not "just 15 more minutes"), and be realistic about what battles you’re going to pick with your child. Sometimes when we think about social norms we’re trying to show and build the frustration tolerance in our children—we place such a load and raise the stakes so much for the holidays, and we forget that that is a set up with kids. The more you raise the expectations and raise the stakes, the more it’s asking for disaster. For the parents who feel that pressure, judgment, and family rules—really hard to have an unreasonable expectations and have them passed on. Can be helped to know that expectations are resentments waiting to happen—and let the table know the expectation we’re actually dealing with (eg. We’re trying to help kid finish food, as opposed to sit quietly for an hour). Have a wonderful moment with your family, knowing that the most unconventional moments are the memory makers. Also can be really overstimulating, and have a plan for what to do then ahead of time, and how to manage that. How do we recognize we are overstimulated? Isabelle went to Costco and only realized 3 hours later how she was overstimulated. We’re all going to feel things differently, but certain things will always be overstimulating: loud noise (increases heart rate) and triggers your fear response. Think about that moment you left a loud concert or house party and that moment when you walk into the cold night air and then you take a breath—knowing that we’re overstimulated is really hard to notice (want to work on with a therapist or close friend)—we can tolerate the heat getting turned up really high and we don’t notice it until it’s at a certain point. David knows he’s overstimulated when he’s worried about breaking things or bumping into people. When Isabelle starts to feel she’s obstacle coursing it, that’s when she’s overstimulated. Sometimes being overstimulated is really good, or really bad—it’s not necessarily one thing or another: it's what’s appropriate for the moment. David will sometimes look at his partner where she’s like “we don’t have time for that.” Getting signs and knowing these things, like with your kid—“I noticed that you were walking around with your hands balled up”—“can I check in on you at Meemaw’s house when you’re hands are clenched, maybe we can go on a walk with me?” Walks are important intervention: changes environment, smells open up, visual stimulation, movement. Or have a place in Dodge—a weighted blanket in the basement, watch a couple of TikTok’s. Isabelle describes the giant mega Christmas party they’d attend that included all these pockets of peace and respite—like smoke breaks (side note: folx with ADHD being drawn to the stimulant with nicotine, but also the habit of taking breaks with a few different people). How valuable it might be not only notice your kid’s cues and give them prompting, but also how it might feel for your kid “I’m getting overstimulated, you know I notice my jaw is tight, and I feel like I’m going to bump into things a lot, I need to go for a walk, want to come with me?” We want to make “Calm Down!” not a swear word. It’s usually the opposite effect—we’re often not saying this to ourselves, we’re telling other people to do it. Do it with a partner, the more premeditated it is—you can be predictable and take a break. Boundaries are not personal, even though they almost always feel that way. David uses the example of the briefcase where he keeps his notes—if he saw anyone going near it, he’d freak out, because it has to do with his boundary around client confidentiality, but it’s not about who is doing it (whether it’s a stranger or a partner). You can set the boundary just by changing the subject. We take boundaries personally, we also think boundaries are about what we’re asking the other person to do, when actually—(pause for effect)—the boundary is what you’re going to do. For example, Isabelle will find herself being asked for therapeutic advice at family functions, but the boundary when she doesn’t want someone to talk about the thing, but it’s the moment she changes the subject, walks away, etc. it’s the moment where I actually set the boundary for myself. It’s not about getting the person to stop talking, it’s giving them something to chew on, like a sandwich, so they can’t talk about it. And another caveat: as inveterate people pleaser, Isabelle’s discomfort shoots up, and it doesn’t feel better to her to set a boundary, but it’s a short term huge burst of discomfort that she’s trading for a long haul sense of self-betrayal, or being worn down, or all the bigger consequences that come from not having a boundary. You tend to have to set boundaries again and again, and it rarely gets easier, you just get more well versed at how you do it. This reminds David of putting on sunscreen—it’s so gross, he hates the greasy stuff, but it’s better than getting the sunburn. The boundary setting can be announced or not announced. And one of the powers of ADHD: engage ADHD distraction mode when someone starts talking about something you’re not about. Like do Delorians need special garages so the doors would still open? Like moths to a flame, we might pay more attention to someone when you’re annoying you, or you’re preparing to debate them. David’s method is singing George of the Jungle to get rid of the earworm. Isabelle thinks about the mu...

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