Neurodivergent, by nature
In this edited extract from his third book, Joe Harkness explores the connection between his love of nature and his ADHD diagnosis
The benefits of fostering a deep connection with nature, and of spending time outdoors, have been proven repeatedly. A brief view of greenery from an urban window can be rejuvenating. A walk near a body of water, equally so. The return of the blackbird song as spring awakes from its turgid slumber, signalling lighter and longer days, heralds the beginning of improvements in low mood for lots of us. Many revere these moments and experiences, yet many others are unaware of them, despite the well-established notion that connecting with nature has the capacity to offer us all some respite from our frenetic world.
Following my own extensive mental health challenges, spending time outside watching birds became a fundamental feature of my own self-care package. To say that I was merely watching birds is a disservice, as birdwatching is an immersive, multisensory activity that simultaneously stimulates and soothes our brains. I find my solace and comfort through the regularity and seasonal consistency of the natural world. Many people feel the same, and it’s difficult to deny the growth in promoting nature connections within therapeutic contexts.
For many years, I’ve been viewing the benefits of nature connection through the lens of mental health. So much so that it became the theme of my first book, Bird Therapy, an exploration of how birdwatching became such a positive factor in my own (ongoing) recovery. Whilst reading into this subject, I fell headlong into yet another rabbit hole, no, a warren, of research papers and articles to try and support my developing perspective. One piece still stands out: ‘Natural Thinking’ by Dr William Bird. Despite looking at it from a well-being angle, I remember it having sections covering ADHD and autism. Working in special education, I recall the empowering feeling of reading this, especially as I had been gently sharing my new interest with some of the young people I was working with at the time. Little did I know that seven years later this would become not only a pleasant connection to my career, but that I would also read it back and reflect on my own neurodivergent diagnosis. It set off a deeper contemplation of the reasons why being in, being with, and connecting to nature feels so important to me and many others who struggle.
With this fresh outlook, much reading, and even more ruminating, I reached the conclusion that my ongoing issues with poor mental health may have been because of underlying ADHD. I’m not saying that my diagnosis suddenly solved all these problems, far from it – but the clarity that the label gives me does, at the very least, help me to make a little more sense of the way my brain and emotions interact and react. My 20-year battle with low mood, acute anxiety and obsessive thoughts takes on a bit of coherence now. Interestingly, a 2017 study found that almost 80 per cent of adults with a diagnosis of ADHD have at least one comorbid psychiatric disorder. So perhaps my innate need to be outside to truly self-regulate is not to manage my mental health symptoms, as I originally thought, but to manage the symptoms of my ADHD that in turn have an adverse effect on my mental health. Wherever the symptoms arise from, the benefits of nature connection are numerous and wide-ranging. Water, woodland and wildlife all play their part in the web of wild well-being that we are part of, and that sustains so many of us.
I have long thought of the outdoors as an escape. A distraction from everyday life. My safe space. It allows me to unload whatever’s clogging my mind, park it wherever I am, focus on something else for however long I feel I need to, and then return to that original headspace with a clearer outlook. I’m refocusing my attention, yet resting my brain at the same time. This is a rudimentary description of the attention restoration theory (ART), which came from the work of Stephen and Rachel Kaplan in the late 1980s and early 1990s. They felt that we experience fatigue after any lengthy mental effort, for example, concentrating under academic examination conditions. This became known as ‘directed attention’, as ultimately that’s what we’re doing; we’re channelling our attention toward a specific action, task or outcome, in a deliberate and voluntary manner. All this effort inevitably makes our brain feel like it needs a rest, and this is where the Kaplans’ next idea arises. They call this mental lethargy ‘directed attention fatigue’ (DAF), believing that when we are in this state, we are more prone to human error, which increases our risk of vulnerability.
When you have ADHD, your brain strains as it directs attention to multiple things at once. If we don’t manage it, we all react differently, but most people will either melt down or shut down, which is to either outburst externally or close ranks internally. How can we manage this? We can put loads of strategies and adjustments in place, but guess what the Kaplans found can help to restore you when you’re experiencing DAF? Of course, being in natural environments. Well, not so much the environment itself, but a series of factors or elements that a natural environment must contain to render it ‘restorative’. The first is that it must be ‘away’. Although the Kaplans are clear that being away can range from as little as looking at something different, to being in an actual different environment. The second is that it must have ‘extent’, which is how much we are able to immerse ourselves in an environment. The third is that it must have compatibility, with yourself and your motivations for being there, so that you’re congruent with it. The final element of a restorative environment is that it mustn’t require you to have to deliberately focus on it, something which the Kaplans name ‘fascination’.
When I think about being outside myself, I default to thinking about the places I refer to as my ‘patches’. Places I’ve taken pseudo ownership of in my head, that I regularly visit, observe, and collate records for. With each place that takes on this significance comes a deep connection. An understanding of how, when and where certain things will happen, and species can be seen. They’ve always been somewhere away. Somewhere I can escape to and into. They’ve all had extent, in that despite being spread over wide geographic areas, each one was chosen with biodiversity in mind. If your main motivation is to visit a place, get to know it intimately, and then observe its resident wildlife, then you’re going to be seeking out a place with that sort of compatibility and extent. You’re naturally going to gravitate toward the natural, the biodiverse.
This relationship between myself and a place is important to me. It’s vital. However, that importance took on a different meaning after my ADHD diagnosis. I knew I sought these places to restore my well-being, but now I know that this happens because these places restore my ADHD brain. It’s incredible really.
Neurodivergent, By Nature: Why Biodiversity Needs Neurodiversity by Joe Harkness is out now. You can order a copy here.
