My dentist would never guess I have ADHD.
Every time I go there, the hygienist and the dentist compliment my oral hygiene.
“What do you eat? You must avoid sugar!” exclaimed the hygienist recently.
“Uh, no. I eat plenty of sugar. How come?” I asked.
“Your gums are in great shape! And your teeth are so pretty!” she said. “What’s your dental routine?”
“I use an electric toothbrush twice a day and I floss pretty regularly.”
When the dentist came in, he said, “Your mouth looks great, no inflammation!”
Am I bragging? Yes, yes I am!
Here’s what the dentist doesn’t know:
I have always hated, HATED maintaining my oral hygiene. When I was a kid, I didn’t brush my teeth unless someone stood over me as I did it. I had tons of cavities. In one humiliating incident in middle school, a classmate made up a rap about how I had “cheese” on my teeth.
This is common for people with ADHD. Often, basic hygiene feels like an enormous pain in the ass. After all, it requires focus, consistency, DOPAMINE. I was fortunate—while my parents didn’t stand over me to make sure I brushed, they DID take me to the dentist for annual checkups and fillings. Regular dental care is more than many people in this country get.
In my teens and 20s, I brushed more regularly, but I never got compliments at the dentist. Then, in my 30s, I started using an electric toothbrush. What a game-changer! It was somehow more tolerable, for my dopamine-deficient brain, to stand there reading a book while the toothbrush did the work.
So I was pleased with that, but as I moved into my 40s, i wanted to upgrade my oral care even further. I read a devastating essay by Ijeoma Oluo about how dental care is a privilege. And taking better care of my teeth fit right in with a larger project I am pursuing, one I call “Taking Care of Emma.” I decided I wanted to become a flosser.
To become a flosser, I knew I’d have to deploy my very best habit-forming tricks. Plenty of neurotypical people have trouble flossing! And I have very tight contacts–my teeth shred floss.
Here’s how I went about it:
- I cultivated a growth mindset–I would regard ”failure” as information, rather than a sign that I was incapable of doing it or that I should give up.
- I rejected an “all or nothing” mindset. I wouldn’t aim to floss DAILY. I would aim to floss MOST DAYS, and be content with SOME DAYS.
- I had already figured out what kind of floss worked best with my tight teeth (it’s “Glide” brand).
- I did some serious thinking about WHEN I would be most likely to floss. Mornings? No. Mornings are a slog for me, and I didn’t need to add another burden to my routine. During the day? One of my heroes, Katy Bowman, keeps floss in her car so she can floss at stoplights. I very much admire this type of strategy–it’s utterly bespoke, unconventional, and effective for her–but I am fastidious and would not want to have my hands in my mouth and then on the steering wheel or vice versa. So it would have to be evenings.
- Evenings were cool with me because I already had a serious evening routine, so flossing would just be one more thing to add to an already-well-established set of habits.
- I obtained the floss and put it out on the counter in the bathroom, next to my toothbrush. It looks cluttered but it’s hard to overlook.
- On Night One, I got out one of my trusty analog timers and set it for 30 seconds. I told myself that it wasn’t important to finish–I would just try to do it for 30 seconds. Once I was doing it, it was easy to just keep going. I used that timer for a couple of weeks. After that, I no longer needed it–I knew how long it would take, and I was reconciled to it.
I got better and better at flossing, more and more skillful, so that now it takes me very little time at all. I do it most nights of the week. I skip it on nights when I’m too tired or just don’t feel like it. I didn’t think it was possible, but my dentist was even more complimentary than usual at my six month cleaning!
But this essay isn’t really about my dental routine. Here’s the point I’m trying to make:
To my dentist, my mouth looks great. He would probably never guess that organizing myself to take basic care of my teeth has taken me FORTY. YEARS.
That’s ADHD, folks!
Most of us ADHDers—
ESPECIALLY WOMEN WITH INATTENTIVE TYPE
—are champion maskers.
You wouldn’t know from looking at us. But basic shit takes us way more time, thought, preparation, support, mindset work…than a neurotypical person.
And if we don’t get that time, thought, preparation, mindset work, support…basic shit just doesn’t get done. It doesn’t happen.
Teeth don’t get cared for. Doctors appointments don’t get scheduled. Bills don’t get paid. Taxes don’t get filed. Work tasks don’t get completed. Households don’t run. Careers get derailed. Relationships fall through the cracks.
You see? ADHD is quite serious. It literally shortens your life expectancy—by an average of 13 years, some studies say.
I follow a number of mature women on TikTok who share their experience of ADHD. Mostly, they have multicolored hair and tattoos, and they exude a kind of chaotic, fun energy. I love them! AND also, I think it’s important for people to understand that ADHD is extremely heterogeneous.
You can’t necessarily tell someone has ADHD
by looking at them.
You can’t tell if they have it. And you can’t tell what kind of impact it’s having on their life.
You can’t tell by visiting their home.
By working on a project with them.
By the clothes they wear.
By the vibe they exude.
By the way they parent.
By how “successful” they are.
Or by looking inside their mouth.
If you’re a woman with ADHD, and you’re starting to wonder how much better life could be if you allowed yourself to get some support, call me. I’m a Life Coach and I specialize in helping women with ADHD!
Love,
Emma