One of the six things I write every day in my journal, after I have finished reflecting, is “Plan. Pack. Put away” all on one line, as if it was one sentence. Like the other repeated mantras, I write it down because it’s hard for me. I want the statement to appear in my head magically when I’m confronted with a situation where it’s needed.

Mostly the “PPP” statement is for leaving and re-entering the house on a normal day. It’s a reminder (like the card clipped to the inside of my front door, which says “hearing aids/masks/inhaler” and serves as backup reminder) that I need to think ahead about what I will need when I’m going somewhere, and to grab the necessary items and stow them on me or in a bag, and then when I return to unpack everything and. put it where it belongs.

The mantra doesn’t prevent me from arriving somewhere without my hearing aids in. It doesn’t keep me from having a coughing fit and realizing I left my inhaler home. And it certainly doesn’t ensure I will have a KN95 mask handy if I have to go into a crowded situation. It just reduces the frequency of those events. And it ensures that when I get home, everything gets taken out of my bag and off my person, and carefully placed where it belongs, one by one.

More or less.

The good habits I have trained, the mantras, my obsession with organization, and my conscientiousness have ensured that people don’t believe me when I say I have severe ADHD. My doctoral chair absolutely contradicted me when I said it, even though it took me twice as long as it should have to complete my dissertation. My mother didn’t believe me even though I was a complete disaster in school, until she and my sister (who also didn’t believe me) decided to take an online ADHD test as if they were me. “I always thought you were doing it on purpose,” my mother said. I will not go into what the “it” was that I was supposed doing on purpose, but suffice it to say that I was bizarrely impossible and most of my parents’ arguments were about me.

I understand their disbelief. Because I have trained my focus, my house is severely organized and tidy. I have gotten a lot done in my life, usually at high speed and simultaneously. And when I’m out I almost always have a pen, something to write on, a wallet with the requisite cards, an inhaler, a couple of masks, something to read, and possibly an extra battery for my phone. I also usually have a book to read and a folding bag for groceries. And a couple of other things besides. Many other things, somehow, end up getting put in there. This is why the “put away” step is essential.

Other people never unpack their handbags, I hear. They don’t have to think about it. If I did that, I would end up losing something really important for months and months. There’s a place where things go that were just in my hand and I call it “Loss Space,” because I can search the house over and over and never, ever find them. The things still exist. I know they do. I can feel them. But they are in Loss Space. Sometimes they appear in the bottom of a handbag I swear I emptied completely and that I swear I have not used in months. Sometimes they are on the sink in the third bathroom where I never go, or in the freezer (where I discovered a bite plate I thought I had lost, last week. I had put it in a baggie full of water and frozen it. I don’t remember doing that.)

I end up losing something important at least once a week anyway. Sometimes several times in a day.

I didn’t mean to write about this, I just started out to say that I’m going to be at the Jersey shore for a week with my kid, son-in-law, and grandson, and I have to go unpack everything I packed last night, make a list of everything, pack it back up, and then repeat the process. I know I could go with just a change of underwear, but I kind of like having a bathing suit that fits me, a beach towel, a pen, my journal, an inhaler, a couple of masks, a good book, and oh god my hearing aids and the charger, and whatever else I am forgetting.

And then I will sit on the beach and stare at nothing, but at least I will have my inhaler, my masks, and whatever the other thing was. Oh, yeah (consulting the list on the door), my hearing aids, which I should take out when I’m on the beach, but where should I put them? Oh god.