So, I have been reading and I am ready to tape another fork to the beautiful flat screened monitor I share at my desk with the graveyard of coffee cups and highlighters. I have been reading a book that is supposed to help me with the AD/HD. I have learned that ADD is now called AD/HD, even if you don’t have the hyperactivity and that AD/HD and ADHD are the same things, it is just a matter of preference.
I couldn’t tell you which I prefer…I really couldn’t.
I have been known to self-diagnose myself from time to time. I have been pregnant multiple times, gone through early menopause, had celiac disease, lung cancer, asthma, lyme disease and been pregnant again. I have suffered with hyperthyroidism, alopecia, alcoholism, idiocy, wernixophasia (whatever that is…I thought I knew, but now I don’t) and stroke, I might even have been abducted by aliens a few times. There are large gaps in my memory and I do like a good alien abduction.
I like the self-diagnosis because I have no true knowledge to back up my assertions and when the symptoms of crazy go away, I don’t have to pretend I am afflicted anymore. Or I can go onto another self-diagnosis that is more pleasing. Like highlighters, once they aren’t working anymore you can send them to a nice little cemetery plot or simply throw them to the trash.
The book I am reading right now (actually, there are four but the one I wanted to talk about) is called ‘What does everybody else know that I don’t? – A reader friendly guide’ by Michele Novotini, Ph.D. My counselor recommended it because I told her I am socially inept.
I am still not comfortable with ‘scoring clinically signifigant’ on the AD/HD test despite the fact that my husbands score for me was quite a bit lower but still met the ‘you should consider clinical help’ mark. It is one thing for me to self-diagnose and forget about it when it doesn’t suit me. It is entirely different when someone from the outside is wondering if there are parts of my brain that don’t work as well as they should.
I already decided against the meds…at least for right now. I don’t think they would work with some of my other dysfunctions and I don’t fancy an unnecessary turf war in my psyche. There are enough explosions going on in my household with two young clone troopers living upstairs.
So the next step is to read books and reorganize…right?
Despite the clinical signification of my test scores, I am still somewhat unwilling to fully embrace my diagnosis. I wonder when people around me tell me that they don’t agree with the term. They think it is over used and fad-ish or they say I am perfectly normal – actually, when people say I am normal, I start to wonder about their psyche. There are people out there who tell me that I am not socially inept and don’t have trouble focusing or functioning, despite the constant chatter in my head. So either I am over-reacting to another self-diagnosis that has been made a bit more concrete, I put on a really good show or they are not really paying attention to what I’m telling them. Who am I to judge if they don’t hear the mental goo screaming? It does tend to sound like music sometimes.
I thought I’d read the books anyway, just for a laugh. I thought I’d do the responsible thing and do the research. So I’m reading this book and managed to get twenty five pages in before I found I’d read a page and a half without paying attention. It helps that there are pictures.
It starts off with an introduction that made me cry because I am an emotional fool and I had a few memories that went along with the story the author was relating. I had significant pictorial refrences to draw on.
Chapter one: The Kindergarten Connection, made me stop and actually say, out loud: ‘Really?’ Then I got to the bottom of the page and read:
“As hard as you try to remember, there always seem to be gaps in your memory.”
(I can’t remember how to properly reference or footnote, so I won’t here unless someone absolutely demands it. It was on page 3 of the above mentioned book.)
I always thought that the gaps in my memory were due to substance abuse of one sort or another – or being really tired or trying to do too much at once. I am embarassed to say that on more than one occasion, I have fibbed and said ‘Oh! Yeah! I remember that! When so and so did such and such! That was hilarious…’ Then hoped that it wasn’t a test to see if I really cared and was paying attention. I really did care – I just guess I wasn’t paying attention.
The book then goes on to talk about another book I haven’t read by Robert Fulghum, ‘All I really Need to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten.’
Aargh.
Share is the first suggestion, implying that someone with AD/HD might have difficulty sharing things, taking turns or sharing time. Playing fair was the next section, assuming that someone may not follow the rules. At first I was insulted. Of course I share! I always follow the rules! Then I thought about it…
Oh, ok, maybe I don’t have a great track record…I get very nervous about sharing the things that I really like: my laptop, my camera, my sewing machine, etc. The time when my husband’s laptop was in the shop and he was using mine I paced for about three days. Not that I wanted to use it, I had nothing to do but the bills, but that wasn’t the point. And then taking turns isn’t so easy either, but it is not so much that I don’t like talking turns as I hate waiting for my turn, especially when playing cards. I wonder if this is part of the reason I’m not alowed to play cards anymore. And as far as sharing time…I think that is probably another post.
So are the red lights I ran on the way to work and the favors I called in this morning in order to get my way on a lab I needed run stat.
Now, feeling a little cowed, I read on…the next section was: Don’t hit people. ‘Duh,’ I though, until I actually, really thought about it. I have the worst temper a little overweight mouse could have, I just have really bad coordination and couldn’t hit a rock physically or verbally if I tried. In this section I learned to find outlets and keep a top ten list of good things in your life…I’ve never felt the need to do either of those things, she said, quickly moving on.
I also never had trouble cleaning up after myself, except the piles and piles of ‘I will go through this later…this is important’ stuff and the crafts that I put to one side and then bury with other crafts in my get to later graveyard.
Reading on, I was just increasingly frustrated to learn that each section held something that applied to my personality, including, shamefully, a habit of disheveled appearance and self-neglect. I still really want to believe that in horoscope fashion, I am just reading a generalized statement that I am taking to heart and applying to my life. I don’t know.
I’m finding it hard to deny the AD/HD diagnosis. Not that it really matters, I cannot be different than I am especially if I choose not to take meds. If the diagnosis makes my life make sense, shouldn’t I embrace it? If things that were impossible before, now are easier with a coping structure, shouldn’t I run with it? Should I take to heart when someone says ‘Are you using that whole thing as an excuse now?’ in response to my in an offhand manner, no different than two months ago, saying I was distracted?
Oh!
I work in a place that deals in bad stuff. Stuff that changes peoples lives, that scars them forever and makes the world a little less cozy. Either past or current no one comes through the door as a patient unless they have a considerable worry. We have a lot of success stories and a lot of joy and laughter, but everyday there is another fearful diagnosis that pales my existence into that of a small bug. I dream somedays that I will be as signifigent as a butterfly flapping its wings.
This week three of the people I see every week (almost every day) have been struck by a fearful prognosis involving someone they love. THIS WEEK! I’m not exaggerating for literary emphasis. Three people I know have seen a dark shadow on their doorstep that could be noting but a wake up call but is likely to be something far more sinister. My heart cries for them and I don’t know how they are coping, let alone getting through a day of paperwork and politics. I don’t know how people deal with pending death, or the very possible imminent death of someone they love.
I have come across it twice in the last two years and tears well in my eyes (curse them and the blue mascara they rode in on!). Which makes me again realize that I haven’t processed anything properly. When is there time?
The fact that I struggle with my daily life when I have two beautiful, smart, healthy boys and another that takes care of me, four walls that are solid (much better than the glorified tent we used to live in), more than enough food judging by my girth, a cat that likes a good downward dog and an almost new tube of blue mascara to go with my electro-punk life soundtrack…I am grateful. I am humbled. I am ready to go to bed and wake up again renewed…I really hope I don’t have to sleep on the floor tonight though, that is getting kind of old.
I am a pokey butterfly.
xoxo.
undeadpollyanna 