Living with ADHD #1

She accused me of laughing at her when she expressed her frustration at our school's ability to handle her son. It was a nervous laugh. It was an I see myself in this situation laugh. But she was right. I did laugh. She stomped away from me, not giving me any chance to explain. Most people who know me well know Humor is my only real defense mechanism. I laugh at the things that make me cry.

Driving home, I started crying about how difficult it is to live with ADHD. I know it looks like fun and games from the outside, really, I know. We look like we're having a party in our minds all the live long day. But if you pretend we don't have a very difficult existence, then we don't get the help we need. We are difficult to parent. We are difficult to educate. We are difficult to employ. We are difficult in relationships. And while there are many people like me, living with ADHD is a very lonely road.

I laugh. And I joke about this subject. A lot. But I am not laughing at ADHD or anyone living with it or anyone trying to love and take care of someone living with it. I'm 44 years old and I finally have a job that I'm probably not going to fired from - only because I am now aware how I am actually protected by The Americans With Disabilities Act. So when my boss sits me down and tells me it seems like I'm not very "focused" or I seem "distracted" (yes, those very words were used), I am protected from being fired for the same issues that got me fired from several jobs I loved. Several. I am half way through my life and I am pretty sure I've messed up every last relationship and friendship through the symptoms of ADHD - impulsively blurting out what I really think, behaving inappropriately, forgetting appointments, never showing up on time. All my girlfriends lasted about two years - because that's just about the time the CHARM wears off and the reality of living with me starts. I'm pretty sure the only person who was willing to keep me around for a decade did so because she hates herself. Stop and think about that for a second. Whether or not it's true doesn't matter because what matters is I believe it to be true. Living with the idea that the only person willing to marry me is someone with exceedingly low self esteem. Because everyone else was smart enough to run the other way. I am 44 years old and you tell me I am an extremely talented writer. I do magic tricks with writing. I have a zillion ideas for books and stories and all kinds of narrative experimentation that would have never even occurred to James Joyce. But what do I have to show for it? I am drowning under the weight of my mental flaw trying to keep up with 4 kids and the entire reason I am stupid enough to even have 4 kids is because my ADHD made me crazy stupid enough to have the doctors put 4 embryos into my body while we had a 2 year old at home and my wife was already 3 weeks pregnant. This house is a mess. That book will never get written and we all know it. I'm going to go watch ten hours of The Walking Dead now. When we got the diagnosis for one of our children, at first I was relieved. OH! it's going to be so much different for this child! Because I never got diagnosed. I never got treatment. I never got medicated. THIS child will be different.

But after a few days I started crying all the time. You don't know what it's like to be in our heads. You don't know what it's like to ALWAYS be fucking everything up. To always be yelled at, to always disappoint people. You can plug your fingers into your ears and sing la la la, Strengths Based, Strengths Based, and we do indeed present as totally charming and wonderful and creative and magical because WE ARE ALL THOSE THINGS but every day we fuck something up. Most days I don't even want to leave the house because that's the only way I know I won't fuck anything up. I know this will be the life for my child now.
We need more than understanding and acceptance (although that stuff is great too), we need HELP. Someone - a grown up, a parent, a boss, a teacher - to stop us from fucking everything up. And not everyone has the patience for it.

When our child started using medication, omg such a personality difference. It was one of the moments I am grateful I have what they have because I understood exactly what was happening. A friend of mine has a child who was diagnosed but she didn't "like" him on his meds, said he seemed like a zombie. Maybe. But watching my child organize their thoughts right in front of me for the first time in their lives, I've got news for parents who doubt medication: That's no zombie; that's the real kid. Because that's how I feel when I am medicated or properly exercised. Like my real self. Like the chaos in my head can settle down a bit. And I think before I speak. And I'm not so afraid to leave the house because I have a little bit of faith that maybe I'm not going to mess everything up.

A few weeks ago, a group of women came over to help me paint my house. (It's a new social group; we call ourselves "Homo Improvement" lol) We get together once a month and contribute work and food and help people do odd jobs around their houses. At one point, the leader of the group asked if we would be willing to go help a person who is differently abled and probably not able to contribute work in return and everyone was all, Of Course. After they left, I wanted a way to explain how you can't see my wheelchair. You can't see my disability. But what you did for me today is every bit as meaningful as what you plan to do for the woman in the wheelchair next month. My house will fall down around me and I either won't notice it or feel so overwhelmed that even the smallest task seems insurmountable (which leads to more Walking Dead). To have a team of women show up on a Saturday morning and make everything beautiful and put everything back together - I can't even put into words what this means to me. I watched a PBS special on ADHD and a doctor looked into the camera and said, Remember you have to live with ADHD but you have to ask for help so your family doesn't have to live IN your ADHD all the time. I felt like he was speaking only to me. The women who rescued me rescued my kids too.

As a person Living With ADHD, I'm telling you: Don't pretend this isn't extremely hard. This isn't about making excuses for our behavior, but it is about having an explanation for some of our behaviors. And having the acceptance and compassion for people living with this and understanding that sometimes some people (and schools) cannot handle or take care of someone with ADHD and that's OK too. I know that's a paradox. This is one of the beauties of ADHD: we are a seeming contradiction.