Mr. William Bipple might be my new best friend. This was the name my husband and I, between fits of giggles, gave our Roomba when prompted to name the device on his phone screen. Mr. Bipple, or Billy as we playfully call him, is our latest partner in the process of neuro-hacking our lifestyle.
My husband and I are both neurodivergent, which makes for an interesting home life. For the most part, we compensate for each other well. He has a gift for spatial skills, such as building and repairs, and is an excellent cook. I am a broad thinker and planner, and manage our budget and schedules. We both fall short though, in the realm of executive function. Mundane household chores are the bane of our shared existence.
Executive Function is a broad term for the ability to prioritize and initiate tasks. In neurodivergent children with executive function disorders, this often manifests as homework forgotten, teeth unbrushed, laundry on the floor, and a child scolded for something they didn’t even realize they were lacking. There are many curricula, books, courses, and seminars on how to teach neurodivergent students to overcome these executive function challenges. I’ve tried every one. The constant effort to swim against the tide of one’s own brain can be demoralizing and exhausting. A little success comes at great effort.
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We have made other choices to make our home life happier, more comfortable, and more functional, and work with our neurotypes, rather than against them.[/perfectpullquote]
Mr. Bipple, the Roomba, is our white flag of surrender. No longer will we feel guilt and shame over floors unswept. It is a joyous defeat because our emotional space has value. We have outsourced the executive function of daily sweeping to a delightful robot so that we can take time to care about more important things.
We have made other choices to make our home life happier, more comfortable, and more functional, and work
with our neurotypes, rather than against them. In addition to our beloved Billy, we have automated or improved other household chores. We opted for a glass-doored refrigerator so that food wouldn’t spoil while out of sight, out of mind. We invested in a laundry subscription to cover some of our backlog. The automated litter box has saved us much mutual resentment. A lot of these choices, in the long term, have actually saved us money, or at the very least, given us invaluable peace of mind.
I no longer struggle to live a neurotypical life. Instead, I comfortably thrive in a neurodivergent one. Every new workaround or simplification we discover is a source of joy in our home, celebrated with enthusiasm!
My suggestion, then, lovingly offered, is to choose your battles, yes, even with yourself. What executive function skills are necessary? Which ones can be automated or offloaded in some way? The answer will vary from one person to another, based on your neurotype, lifestyle, and needs, but everybody could do a little something to work with themselves, rather than trying to swim upstream against your own brain.
