I have Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Not "school is soooo hard" disorder or "my parents are pretty laissez-faire" disorder. I have "I can't finish a sentence, answer the phone, or watch one minute of a TV show without medication" disorder. Despite this, I lead an adult life in which I consider myself to be pretty well-adjusted: I maintain a marriage and a career without screwing up (well, not anymore than the next dopey husband). This is somewhat due to proper diagnosis and medication, of course -- but the rest of my success, I owe to video games.

Video games helped me with my ADHD. They gave me the tools I needed to survive with this disorder. With all of the debate and studies about whether video games contribute to increased ADHD, I'd like to provide my own testimony about how gaming has helped me deal with this disorder.


First off, let's define ADHD as it relates to me. From comparing stories with my non-ADHD peers, it seems like the best metaphors are sleep and coffee. Imagine you've just woken up -- everything is kind of hazy and confusing. Focus and priority are tough, thoughts are swirly, it's tough to focus on anything. That's a good portrait of the "attention deficit" part of this disease. Now imagine you've had three cups of coffee, or however many it takes to make you feel uncomfortable. The physical symptoms you would experience are similar to the "hyperactivity" part. It's the frantic combination of too much coffee and the fuzziness associated with not getting enough sleep.

Now that we have a working definition, I can outline how video games helped me deal with it. Specifically, video games provide three tools to deal with ADHD that I'm pretty sure no other medium can.

1. Simplified Perception Lessons

It's hard to focus when the whole world is a swirling miasma of sights and sounds, each equally trying to grab one's attention. Trying to focus on just one item is like trying to read a Where's Waldo book after taking five hits of acid. But video games break things down into simple parts. I am fortunate to have ridden the console evolution chain since first generation. In 1981, Atari 2600 games looked pretty Spartan.


Sure, fans complained about the look of the 2600's Pac-Man port pictured above (hey, it only had one programmer). But for a small kid who can't stop seeing the world in a "my God, it's full of stars!" kind of way, the simplicity was beautiful.

Instead of millions of different visuals trying to get my focus, this game had just a few: ghosts, blinking dots, and Pac-Man. Thus began my first lesson in how to manage ADHD. Pay attention to Pac-Man at all times; ignore the ghosts and the blinking dots. Easy for most people, but the number of times I would stare at a flashing power pill and plow right into a ghost certainly reached into the hundreds. But, eventually, I learned to keep my eyes on Pac-Man.

From there, I learned perceptual prioritization. I had to keep my eyes on Pac-Man, but also remain aware of where the ghosts were. This applied directly to my perception of the real world: I soon found I could pay attention to someone who was talking, but still keep an eye on, say, the time.

Each revolution in console technology was like a new class in ADHD school. The NES brought colorful backgrounds (Pro ADHD Tip: Ignore the background; pay attention to Mario) and lots of other details. The PlayStation taught me organization skills so I could keep track of my college suite's hundreds of game discs, etc. As I adjusted to each new console, I would find that the overwhelming distractions of the world (or TV, or radio) grew less overwhelming.