ADHD: Me vs the World (or so it seems)

I just want to take a moment and say that I am disappointed in some of the people in the world. There are many people who believe that ADHD/ADD isn't a legitimate disorder and that they hate people who claim they have it. They rant about how it is only the product of bad parenting and should not be taken seriously.

Can I say, I have ADHD. My parents weren't "bad parents".  ADHD is not a social cry or a stamp for doctors.  It is a neurological misfiring. When a part of your brain tries to fire neurotransmitters, but it doesn't properly attach to the receptors.  This causes a misfiring around specific areas of the brain.  Granted, parents and teachers push doctors to "diagnose" their child with it when they don't just so they have an excuse for their behavior.

Kids who truly have ADHD are not just misbehaving, and I'm not saying they don't.  I was a terrible child.  ADHD is an extra struggle in life that causes more strife than it's worth sometimes.  There are those who say "some ADHD people are smarter than "normal" people so what's the problem?" Different people's ADHD can aid them in particular subjects.  For example, my ADHD helps me when working with animals because I am able to change my focus on a dime, much like an animal does.  Others are able to hyperfocus on things they like, where the thing they like is what they want to do with their life.  However, there is that flipside where it can be a weight, pulling us down and making it harder to function.  

In class, you can't focus.
You can't take notes.
You can't sit down and do your work.
You can't hand in the work on time because your brain wouldn't allow you to simply sit down and do it.

People also look at our behavior and wonder how we do anything at all because we are always doing something.  During high school, whenever I told people my schedule, they looked at me and called me "super woman" because they couldn't understand how I could do that and do my school work.  To me, it was never a packed schedule, like I felt like I didn't do enough.  I figured out how I work best (do my homework) and was able to do it all in school, because my brain agreed that it would work from 7:15 to 2:30 and that was it.  I figured out a system to work around my ADHD, but I forgot I had ADHD at this point because I had taken myself of meds in middle school.

When people invalidate ADHD as something legitimate, it makes me feel as if my ADHD isn't real.  It is though.  It is a struggle that prevents me from functioning and being a "normal" student.  Whenever my ADHD gets the best of me, it feels degrading, that I'm a failure, that I'm useless and that I am a disgrace as a human being.  I've had teachers yell at me that I have no excuse for handing things in on time.  I can't do things on time. I really can't. ADHD doesn't feel like an excuse for this situation but it is the greatest thing that keeps me from doing my work.

People invalidate it because they don't understand how your brain could keep you from doing your schoolwork, something that is really important in this day in age.  Here is a challenge, go to do your work. sit there and want to do your work. say to yourself, "do your work, you need to." But here's the catch. You can't. something inside of your mind, in your brain, won't let you do it. how frustrating is that? try to imagine how our symptoms affect us, try to understand how we feel on a day to day basis before you go and belittle our disorder. (let me tell you, your belittling isn't helping the situation at all.)

Please and thank you. I don't mean to rant, but seriously. Step off and come back when you know what you're talking about.

Dear Wardrobe,

For all these years, you have stayed relatively the same: T-shirts, jeans, men's shorts, sweats and you have been the perfect thing for my life in high school. However, I am now in college and an adult, which means that you need to have an overhaul. I know you won't be happy for the first few days, but bear with me, it'll be great in the end. You'll be happy to know that I got you some nice pieces, things that are perfect for camp, great for everyday, and an item or two that are great for a party or a night out. So far, you haven't been too angry with me and I hope you still love me.

Sincerely,
Lunch Box.

Dear Percius P. Percival,

I thank you for being the car that you were (in case you are totaled). You saved the life of 5 people in your lifetime. Between the truck tire blowout that hit you, the teenager running the red light, and my accident 3 days ago, you have preformed valiantly. I know we have put you through so much, but we love you and wish that you could have lasted with us longer. When recounting my story of last Friday, I've been asked if I had spun out or swerved. You, being the car that you were, handled beautifully and I did not spin or swerve, but drove straight and pulled over with ease, despite the blowout which was inflicted upon you.

Rest in pieces.
Lunch Box.

Dear Brain,

I know you are tired, but the year is not 2017. Not by a long shot. Neither is it 2008. That has long past. Please get the year right. I mean really, we've been in 2012 for 90 days. It should have sunk in by now that it is the year 2012. Also, while writing this, I must inform you that this is about a rant that you can't remember it is 2012, so while writing this, please don't try to write 2021.

Thanks,
Lunch Box

"Right".

The concept of what’s Right.

It’s a load of crap.

And when I say “right”, I don’t mean legally or morally; I mean the process of something. The way something is done.

The concept of what’s “right” is defined by the mass of neuro-typicals, all of whom can process and regurgitate that which is “right”.  Their concept of “right” cannot reach neuro-atypicals, and they can’t seem to grasp why.

The concept that something is done in a “right” way is, in and of itself, wrong.  Without fail, neruo-typicals have essentially demoralized anyone who doesn’t do things “right” and they often don’t let them try anything that isn’t “right”.  But watch, as neruo-typicals are amazed and awed by those who get past the nay-sayers and do something amazing and ground-breaking.  You know what? They did those things “WRONG”.  The concept of forcing us to do it “right” doesn’t let the potential of those of us who need to do things “wrong” in order to do them at all.  It squashes the potential for more people to destroy the “right” and do something ground-breaking.  The types of people who do things “wrong” are the exact people to revolutionize an industry, to find a cure, to discover a new, ancient civilization using unheard of techniques.

So that person with ADHD who can sit there and research some ridiculously obscure, medieval idea instead of completing their homework like a normal Child? They are the ones who will make a break-through between human culture then and human culture now, solving a problematic idea that has stumped scientists today.

The Autistic kid who spent her time thinking in pictures and listening to the mooing of cows? She revolutionized the beef industry to something they could never have imagined.

The kid with Aspergers who is failing art but produces the greatest art pieces ever seen come from a high school freshman? They will one day document a glimpse of a social uprising, of a people’s revolt, of things as simplistic as the human emotions, and show the world just what it means to be simply human.

So before you yell at them, “No! That’s wrong, do it right.”, take a moment to understand that they have done nothing wrong.  They just didn’t do what YOU wanted them to do.

The only reason for any sort of revolutions, change, or innovation to have happened is that someone did something wrong.

The so-called “geniuses”? They all did things wrong, defied what was right and created something that has never been done or thought of before.

So whenever someone chastises you for doing something “wrong”, just smile and say “Ok”, because they don’t know your potential and they’ll regret it when they aren’t there to witness the ingenious acts you accomplished.

All because you did it wrong.

The Doll Dilemma

There are three distinct types of dolls in the world.  There is the first, the porcelain doll that sits atop the highest shelf, safely tucked away from uncaring hands.  This doll is protected by its owner with intensity.  If only one scratch befalls a doll such as this one, the owner is in a huff, marching after the thing that scuffed their precious doll.  They care for it, clean it, and work at making it look perfect in the way that they want.  It becomes sheltered away from dolls of lesser value in the eyes of the owner, only other porcelain dolls are right for it.  Unfortunately these dolls are so cared for and protected that the one time they are knocked off that shelf, even if by accident, they break. They shatter into many little pieces and it’s hard to piece them back together most times.  And if they can be pieced back together, they will never look quite the same. No matter how much is painted over the cracks, no matter what clothes are chosen to hide the fractured lines, they will always be there.  There will always be that slight imperfection, especially to the eyes of the owner.

The second doll is the old rag doll.  The one that none of the kids ever liked or treated nicely, the one that was given to the dog to play with, the one that’s missing a few parts.  No one really knows where the owner of this doll is.  Maybe the doll was lost, or maybe the owner threw it out because it wasn't what they really wanted.  This doll is literally the rag of the world.  People walk all over it, and there’s no one to pick it up and set it back on the shelf.  The children ignore it, preferring the new doll they just found, or a doll that looks better.  The rag doll is tossed aside by most and not even acknowledged by many.  Some rag dolls are hardy and can survive for a very long time. However, some rag dolls were not made of very strong materials and are destroyed very quickly.

The third doll is that favorite, strong, lasting doll.  The one that survives strange adventures through the back yard or a bath in the tub.  This is the doll that looks worn but still has that life in it.  It’s the doll that gets dropped by accident but there is barely a scratch on it when it gets back up again.  It’s the doll that can handle the bratty boys who stole it from their owner and looks no worse when the owner finally gets it back.  It’s the doll that is loved by its owner, no matter what the other kids say about it.  It doesn’t need to have the best clothes or a lot of other dolls to play with.  It’s the one that is still the treasured favorite, even if a new, better doll comes along.  It’s the one that is still there, in great condition when its owner is old and gray.

Dolls start out as piles of specific raw materials. You can’t make a porcelain doll out of rags and you can’t make a porcelain doll into a play thing.

This is the dilemma of the dolls.

The Start of the New Year

New Year’s: the holiday for insomniacs.  The one true night of the year where people are scorned for being in bed before 2 am.  Staying up is expected. It's encouraged.  As a person with acute insomnia, I rejoice at the night where I don't have to fret about not being able to fall asleep. There was nowhere I had to be, nothing I had to do the next morning.  It’s not fun through, when you have no plans.  An insomniac with no incentive to stay awake on the one night of the year that it’s expected. 

This year I actually had plans.  Many years ago, my parents would drag us along to a party of adults at a close family friend's house.  We used to sit in a back room and play mindless video games into the wee hours, being collected to go and watch the ball, then driven home as we slept soundly as the tuckered-out, up-way-past-bed-time, little children that we were. Then, my brother, being 3 years older, began going to parties at his friend's houses, and I started staying home since I was too old to be that kid in the backroom, but not old enough to be an adult of the party.  The first year of New Year’s at home, I spent it at a neighbors house, she having 2 kids my age and older at home as well.

Then it became an alone thing.  I always thought I'd have all these friends with parties to go to when I was little, but it didn't turn out that way.  Well, that year after I went to my neighbor's, my freshman year of high school, I had a friend over.  We had fun, ate food, made cookies, had some sparkling cider, all before midnight.  She ended up going home before midnight, for reasons I had only found out about a month or two later.  After that, I was really alone for New Year’s.  I kept asking my parents if I could go to that party but every year, I was not yet of the adult classification that I needed to be to go. So I sat at home. I basically sat on my computer till 11:50 and then I would trot downstairs, watch the ball drop, then trot back upstairs to continue what I was doing, then fall asleep.  It was nice and quiet and part of me enjoyed the quiet aloneness for the holiday.

This year, I was invited to join family friends for a New Year’s celebration.  We went to First Night in Morristown, a night filled with activities and events in the surrounding area with fireworks on the Green at 9 and midnight.  I tagged along with 2 of the woman's sons.  We saw a cheesy illusionist, where I was really only impressed by the boxes where he split his assistant in half and in other such ways. The only way that could work is if she was a contortionist.  Then we saw a reptile man who was slightly crazy, but in all honesty, you'd have to be to work with animals in general. At one point, he pulled a chinchilla out of nowhere (I still can't figure out why) and I squealed. I literally squealed.  Like, jumping in my seat, flailing my arms, and squealing like a little child.  The excitement died down and we met up with their parents to go watch the fireworks.  While we walked back to the Green, we got to about a block away when they started.  We were in a lucky spot where we could see them.  It was then, as we were bracing the cold winds, looking up at the exploding lights in the sky, that the sons decided that they just wanted to go home.  We started to track back to the car as the fireworks were finishing, finding our view completely blocked when the finale went off.

We got back and instead of really helping with the hors d'oeuvres like I said I would, I found myself cuddling and playing with their 2 little white Himalayan kittens, JJ and Louie, while the 2 sons that came with us joined the 3rd son and his friend playing games in the basement.  This went on until 11:30 when the 4 boys emerged from the depths to watch the ball drop.  We had a toast and some cheers and it was 2013. After that, I helped the 3 youngest in getting the oldest to play Dark with us.  Dark is hide and go seek, in the dark, inside. Basically, it was indoor Manhunt. When my brother and I were kids, we used to play with them all the time and it was always fun. On the first round I was found right away because my watch beeped and gave me away. After that, I was never found.  After 10 minutes, the friend had said, "this is ridiculous, the four of us are black and you are the only one we can't find!" He had a point, I am pretty white and I should have a glow to me in the darkness, but I was a ninja.  After that, the game became "find Brianna".  They never succeeded.

So, in short, I spent my New Year’s running around Morristown, playing with kittens, and playing a hilarious game of indoor Manhunt. It was quite a happy New Year in my opinion.  And thus, I made a little…“resolution” and decided to start a blog, this blog.  For me, this New Year is starting off with a blog instead of a bang.  Happy New Year!

Sincerely,

Lunch Box.