Personal Essay

🎨 He Does the Law, I Do the Art

/ tammy4nd@gmail.com / Leave a comment

On Love, Contrast, and Parallel Lives That Still Fit

A couple embracing on a sunlit deck by the water, surrounded by greenery and boats, capturing a moment of affection.

My boyfriend drafts contracts. I paint frogs in cowboy hats.
He files motions. I press flowers in old poetry books.
He thinks in straight lines; I think in messy constellations that loop back and overlap and then forget where they started.

And somehow, it works. Like, really works.

We live together, and yet we live very different lives inside the same house. He’s on the phone with clients while I’m making a mess with dirt all over the living room floor or porch—potting and repotting houseplants like it’s my job. He types in silence, focused and steady, while I blend torn-up bits of old mail and grocery lists in the blender to make homemade paper that I may or may not ever use. He has a degree in law. I have a degree in being a little feral and very emotional.

We’re not opposites. Just…different types of intense.

A close-up of a person holding a spatula covered in soil, next to a potted plant, with a dark pot and text overlay about using the spatula for repotting plants and art.

I Used to Think Love Had to Be Same-Same

I used to think relationships were supposed to be built on shared interests, matching vibes, synchronized energies. I thought I’d end up with someone just like me—artsy, talkative, neurodivergent, maybe a little chaotic in a charming way.

But what I’ve learned is that being deeply different doesn’t mean being incompatible. It means learning each other’s rhythms. It means saying “I don’t totally get it, but I love that you do.” It means making space for the other person’s world—even when it doesn’t mirror your own.

A sketch of a couple is placed on a stack of books, with a laptop displaying their black and white selfie in the background. Art supplies are scattered around, including colored pencils and an eraser.

What I’ve Learned From Him

He’s steady. Focused. Kind. Dry-humored in a way that makes me snort-laugh when I least expect it. He can spend hours reading legal documents and still have brainpower left to argue about football or correct punctuation.

Being around him has reminded me what it’s like to work in a space where the rules are actually followed. The law may be rigid, but it’s oddly comforting in its structure—and I can see why he likes it. It has answers. It has procedures. It makes sense, most of the time.

And he works hard. He really, really works hard. That kind of discipline is something I admire, even if I don’t always understand it.

A man in business attire sitting on a leather couch, looking at his phone, with potted plants hanging above him and a colorful cushion beside him.

What He’s Learned From Me (I Think)

I think I’ve taught him that not everything has to have a system. That you can live life a little sideways and still have a point. That not everything needs to be optimized or outlined or scheduled to have value.

He doesn’t always understand why I need to paint at 11:47 p.m. or why I keep a box of dried flower petals like it’s treasure. But he doesn’t try to talk me out of it either. He just lets it exist. Sometimes he looks confused, but mostly he just lets it be mine.

We don’t always explain ourselves. And that’s become part of the love, too.

A person sitting on the floor surrounded by painting supplies and artwork, smiling while wearing a gray sweatshirt and blue jeans.

Why It Works

We don’t need to “get” every part of each other’s worlds. We just need to respect them. Support them. Let them exist without trying to change them.

He doesn’t need to love oil pastels or matcha lattes. I don’t need to love tort law. But we love each other. And we love the space we’ve built where both can exist side by side.

He does the law. I do the art.
And when we meet in the middle—in the quiet moments, in the shared jokes, in the brush of a hand or a late-night snack run—it’s more than enough.

A couple smiling together, with the man wearing a light shirt that says 'LEDGER LAW' and the woman playfully resting her hand on his shoulder.

🧠 What ADHD Actually Is (and Isn’t)

/ tammy4nd@gmail.com / Leave a comment

Unmasking, One Post at a Time
By Kayla Sue Warner

Let’s just say this up front: the name “Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder” is wrong. Like, offensively wrong. There’s not actually a “deficit” of attention, and there’s nothing “disordered” about the way our brains work. ADHD is a neurotype—a naturally occurring variation in how human brains process time, emotion, focus, and executive functioning. It’s not something broken. It’s just something different.

Illustration depicting a brain with an exclamation mark, symbolizing attention and cognitive focus.

❗Wait, Why Is It Still Called a “Disorder”?

Let’s talk about the name: Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder. It’s outdated. And honestly, inaccurate.

  • We don’t actually have a deficit of attention—we have too much of it in too many places at once, or we hyperfocus intensely on one thing and tune everything else out.
  • And the word disorder makes it sound like something’s broken or wrong with us. It’s not.
  • Our brains are just wired differently—and that’s okay.

ADHD is a brain difference, not a disease. The name hasn’t caught up with the science yet, and many people in the neurodivergent community are pushing for a change. But until the “official” terminology catches up, we’re stuck with a label that doesn’t reflect our actual lived experience.

So if you hear me use “ADHD,” just know: I’m talking about a neurotype, not something that needs to be “fixed.”

A colorful abstract painting featuring a quirky character with large eyes, a yellow face, and an orange outline, holding a pink flower against a textured blue-green background.

⚡ ADHD Is a Brain-Based Executive Function Difference

ADHD isn’t a character flaw, a lack of willpower, or a moral failure. It’s a difference in how the brain is wired—especially in areas related to executive functioning. That includes things like:

  • initiating tasks
  • following through on plans
  • regulating emotions
  • managing time and transitions
  • remembering what you were doing in the first place (before you got up and completely forgot)

And while the medical world still calls it a “disorder,” many of us know better. There’s nothing wrong with how our brains work—we just live in a world that isn’t designed for us. (CHADD, 2023)

Dr. Russell Barkley, who has studied ADHD for decades, once said:

“ADHD is not a deficit of knowing what to do. It’s a deficit of doing what you know.”

And let me tell you—that quote is my whole life.

A person standing on a beach wearing a black crop top and bright yellow high-waisted bikini bottoms, holding a drink and posing confidently under a cloudy sky.

🧬 It’s Not Your Fault. It’s How Your Brain Works.

ADHD isn’t caused by bad parenting, screens, sugar, or any of the other ridiculous myths floating around. It’s a neurodevelopmental difference—a variation in brain wiring, often linked to genetics, and especially connected to dopamine regulation (NIMH, 2021).

We don’t lack attention—we have inconsistent attention. And we don’t need to be “fixed.” We need understanding, support, and systems that work with our brains instead of against them.

A cluttered room featuring a white cabinet with glass doors showcasing books, alongside a pile of scattered books on the floor.

🌱 Final Thoughts

ADHD isn’t a disorder. It’s not a disease. It’s not something to be cured or controlled.

It’s a different brain. A different way of experiencing the world. A neurotype.

And even if the name hasn’t caught up yet, we can speak about it differently. We can unlearn the shame and rebuild our self-trust. We can stop viewing ourselves as “failures” for struggling in a world that was never built with us in mind.

A close-up of a small, vibrant flower with purple tips, set against a colorful, textured background.