Life as a "Directionally Challenged" Mom

Raise your hand if your brain has two completely opposing settings. 🧠 ✨

First, there is The Creative Zone. When I’m at my desk working, whether I'm designing a new resource or writing a blog post, I actually need the chaos. Give me the TV on in the background, a podcast playing, a fan whirring, and maybe a notepad and pencil to doodle out my idea's. That noise creates a "cocoon" that actually quiets my brain and helps me hyperfocus. 

But then... there is Mom Taxi Mode. The second I slide into the driver's seat? I turn into a hall monitor. 🤫

It doesn’t matter that I’m driving to the same grocery store I’ve visited weekly for five years. The moment I need to find a parking spot or make a tricky left turn, my internal GPS completely leaves the chat.

I literally have to reach over, turn the volume down to zero, and issue a "Vow of Silence" to the backseat.

"Guys, please," I beg them. "Pause the Minecraft talk for 30 seconds. I cannot hear the street sign." 

Yes, I said hear the street sign. And if you have ADHD, I know you know exactly what I mean...

Wait, Why Do We Do This?

If you are nodding your head right now, let me tell you this: You aren't crazy, and you aren't a bad driver.

It’s actually a bandwidth issue.

For the ADHD brain, processing spatial information (Where am I going? Is that my turn?) and auditory information (The radio! The kids fighting! The Minecraft updates!) draws from the exact same pool of mental energy.

When the visual demand gets high, like hunting for a house number, our brains literally run out of RAM. We can't process the noise and the navigation at the same time. So, we turn down the radio to "see" better. It’s not a quirk; it’s a valid coping mechanism!

The Hallway of Doom

It’s not just driving, though, is it?

Don't even get me started on the pediatrician's office. My kids have been patients at the same clinic for seven years. Seven! I have walked those halls too many times to count. 

Yet, without fail, every time the doctor opens the door and says, "You're all set," I walk out into the hallway and immediately pivot the wrong way. I usually stand there, looking confused, until a nurse (bless her heart) gently points me toward the exit.

I’ve accepted that I will probably need a guided escort out of that building until my youngest kid turns 18.

Embracing the Scenic Route

If you are a fellow "directionally challenged" ADHD parent, I see you.

I see you using your GPS to go to the post office you’ve lived next to for a decade. I see you getting turned around in the high school parking lot. And I definitely see you hitting that mute button when traffic gets heavy.

Life as a directionally challenged ADHD mom is never a straight line (pun intended). We might take the scenic route (accidentally), and we might get lost in a hallway or two, but one thing is for sure: it is certainly never boring.

 

---

 

How I Survive (Without Getting Too Lost)

Since I’ve had to learn the hard way, here are three things that half way save my sanity:

1. Zero Shame in the GPS Game: I use Apple or Google Maps even for places I know by heart. Why? because having the cue frees up my "working memory." It means I can half-way listen to my kids' stories without high-key panicking that I missed my turn. Is it always 100%? Nope. Not even going to sugar coat it. But it does help!
   
   

2. The "Focus Mode" Button: If your car has a button on the steering wheel to mute the audio, make it your best friend. I would love to say it works instantly, 100% of the time. But when your kids have "inherited your ADHD" (like mine have), the reality usually looks more like this:
   ✓Press the mute button once.
   ✓Remind them twice to "please be quiet."
   ✓Tell them three times to "be quiet so I can focus."
   ✓Finally, "go big" by yell-singing: "SHUT UP SO MOM CAN FOCUS!"
   It takes some effort, but it usually pays off. (I sing horribly, so the screech commands their attention.)
   
   
3. Laugh It Off: Look, getting lost is frustrating. But it’s also a chance to show our neurodivergent kids that it’s okay to be imperfect. "Whoops, Mom’s brain went left, and the car went right!" is a pretty good lesson in resilience (and knowing where the nearest and safest parking lot is to turn around in).

Tell me in the comments: What is the one place you always get lost going to, no matter how many times you've been there?