Hyper-Catholic: praying with ADHD

I’ve been recently diagnosed with ADHD. I managed to make it through school and early adulthood undetected. Now, like many women in their forties, I’ve discovered that I’m not as ordinary as I pretend to be. I struggle with regulating focus. I’m constantly chasing achievement. I find it hard to sit still. When something is intensely boring, it almost causes me real physical pain. I’m not joking. Committee meetings are particularly excruciating. I put so much effort into hiding these things about myself that it makes me feel tired all the time. And don’t get me started on my graveyard of abandoned planner notebooks!

Officially, ADHD (or attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder) is ‘a developmental disorder characterised by difficulties with concentration, attention and impulse control which impact on the person’s day-to-day life’ (Australian Psychological Society). It can also be understood as a different neurotype. Essentially, I’m running a different operating system from Standard Brain 1.0, with some features outperforming others. My grammar around ADHD can get wonky because I prefer to describe it as an identity rather than a condition. It’s someone I am, not something I have. As I try to wrap my head around what it means to be a grown woman with ADHD, I also wonder: what does it mean to be an ADHD Catholic?

I’m gradually coming to understand that prayerfulness in an ADHDer might look different from prayerfulness in a neurotypical Catholic. I recognise that I struggle with boredom, and that this doesn’t make me a bad person. I get that many priests want to be thorough with their sermons, but I do really appreciate it when a homily is short, with a single, clear take-home message. When the homily is long, I struggle. I know everyone struggles with boredom and focus to some degree, but there’s a difference in scale when it comes to ADHD. It’s especially hard for us. Also, the irony is not lost on me that, were I a priest, I would have the longest sermons ever.

ADHD mothers often have children who are also neurodivergent. As Catholics, they might work hard to get over the childhood experience of getting it ‘wrong’ in church, having struggled themselves to sit still and focus, only to feel judged as bad mothers when they have unruly children of their own.

Rosary beads give my hands something to fidget with. ... Of course, I often lose focus and forget where I’m up to. This is when I throw in an extra ‘Hail Mary’ for good measure. I call this a ‘Baker’s Decade’.

Figuring out what behaviour is required and performing it while also disguising any aspects of our personalities that may be considered ‘odd’ takes a great deal of effort. Surviving in a neurotypical world often requires us to learn all the social rules and follow them meticulously—including religious rules. As a result, ADHDers, like many neurodivergent Catholics, can struggle with scrupulosity, a form of dysfunction where a person is so wrapped up in getting it right that their efforts devolve into a lot of anxious box-ticking rather than being genuinely prayerful. At times, a sense of shame and inadequacy at not being as ‘good’ at focusing on devotions can compound this problem. This behaviour can become especially debilitating when a person has OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) along with ADHD.

While ADHDers might struggle with certain forms of devotion, it doesn’t mean they can’t be prayerful. Prayerfulness doesn’t have to involve sitting still for lengthy periods of time. ADHDers can find pathways to holiness through the arts, including music ministry and creating religious art. Walks and pilgrimages allow for movement in prayer. I often pray while crocheting, and on many mornings, I huff out a decade of the rosary when I go for a run. (Regular exercise is especially important for ADHDers.)

I’m gradually learning to unmask. I no longer put the same amount of energy into pretending to be like everyone else, and I’m learning to embrace my authentic, oddball, exuberant self.

Of course, we are not a homogenous group. Strategies that work for one ADHDer may be no good for another. Take the Rosary for example. I’ve spoken to some ADHDers who really struggle with praying the Rosary. It’s long and repetitive. It requires focus. But the Rosary can sometimes be the perfect devotion for someone with ADHD. Hear me out. There are times when I have five thought trains going at once and I can’t organise the chatter into prayer or articulate what I want to say. The Rosary gives me set prayers to divert my consciousness from the overlapping chatter. Rosary beads give my hands something to fidget with. Making progress through the decades delivers tiny hits of dopamine, something that can be in short supply for ADHDers. Of course, I often lose focus and forget where I’m up to. This is when I throw in an extra ‘Hail Mary’ for good measure. I call this a ‘Baker’s Decade’.

I sometimes think there must be more than a few saints who are neurodivergent. It’s difficult to know for sure, and no saint has officially been identified as such. Still, I feel a great affinity for St Therese of Lisieux, who sometimes found it hard to focus her attention in prayer and used little prayers as a way around this. She was also known for being sensitive and struggled with scrupulosity as a child.

I’m so glad to be an ADHD Catholic. It almost comes with its own charism. We ADHD Catholics are often passionate, sensitive, creative and innovative in the ways we connect to God and others.

I’m gradually learning to unmask. I no longer put the same amount of energy into pretending to be like everyone else, and I’m learning to embrace my authentic, oddball, exuberant self. I’m also trying out new strategies that might help me as an ADHD Catholic. I think I might focus better on a long homily if I were able to do something with my hands. Perhaps I could illustrate the themes of the homily with coloured pens in a journal? I feel self-conscious even suggesting this. Bring a pencil case and notebook to Mass? People might think I’m ignoring the priest, but I suspect it would help a lot.

God made my brain this way, and while it’s easy to focus on the challenges, I’m so glad to be an ADHD Catholic. It almost comes with its own charism. We ADHD Catholics are often passionate, sensitive, creative and innovative in the ways we connect to God and others. I wouldn’t trade it—not even for the ability to sit through the most boring of parish council meetings!