The Fork on the Dresser

I keep a fork on my dresser.

What is the purpose of the fork on the dresser? I use it to reach the things that fall behind the drawer. 

Why can’t I use tongs or tweezers, or why not take the drawer out? Well, the drawer doesn’t come out, and each drawer has a trap of sorts between each level, so when things fall out, they get trapped under the drawer. 

This presents a problem. 

My ADHD brain decided the best fix is to use a fork. Not sure why, but when I try to use something else, the item doesn’t work as well as my trusty fork. 

The fork and I have a relationship; it knows its role, and I respect it because it does what I ask of it. It provides me with a service that nothing else can. 

It’s a fork, on a dresser. 

When my husband first saw the fork, I was using it. 

He asked, what ya doing? (insert the cute tone of voice husbands use when they think their wives are doing something silly but know better than to do anything other than simply ask). 

I said, grabbing whatever fell, again. 

He asks, “And the fork?” I respond, “It’s grabbing the thing.” He says, “ok, whatever works.” 

Upon seeing that I was using a dinner utensil to retrieve a pair of socks that had fallen behind the drawer, he had options. He could have handed me a more appropriate tool, in his opinion. He could have said, “Here, let me get it”, which anyone knows would have been the slap in the face that my “I can do it” attitude didn’t need. 

He chose to simply say “whatever works”, kiss me on the forehead, and leave the room. 

Before leaving the room, however, he wanted to make sure the fork would not find its way back to the kitchen drawer and that, from this point forward, its home would be in the bedroom. I assured him that he was correct, the fork had found its new home in the bedroom.

He gets me, after some explaining and understanding, we get each other’s oddities, the weird little things that make us individuals. 

Sometimes understanding does include an eye roll or two and the occasional snarky comment (if we’re being honest), but ultimately it’s understanding. 

It’s patience. It’s a love that has been through it and survived. It’s not perfect. It’s not a fairytale. It’s not what you see in movies. But it is real, and it is everlasting. 

Having a relationship with someone with ADHD can be a struggle. You think you have them figured out, then, bam, they throw something else at you. 

It seems that their personalities, quirks, preferences, and other traits are constantly evolving. This is a correct assumption. 

As a person with ADHD, I can tell you, in my own head, it is quite confusing as well.  

Just when I think I have myself figured out, something comes up, and I think, “Huh, where did you come from”? 

I believe this happens because I am constantly evolving. I am trying to figure out how I fit in, why I think/feel/do some of the things I do.

Was it ever really about the fork? No, it’s about acceptance and being allowed to be who I am and in a marriage where my weirdness is not only accepted but embraced.

We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.” — Dr. Seuss