How Did I Get So Old
I need to write this post quickly, before I forget what I’m writing about. Wait, is that old age that causes that?
Or is it ADHD. In actuality, I’m only 55 … but geez, even saying that makes me think “Who? Me? 55? Really?”
You see, I feel, mentally that I’m 18. Also, I feel emotionally like I’m 25. All right, all right, 22.
And while I have, in fact, a rather remarkable memory for things that have happened and for mostly useless bits of trivia, I don’t remember enough to be able to feel like I’ve lived for 55 years.
But things aren’t all good
And yet there’s this other thing. This body I’m dragging around may look 55 years old (and I seriously think that would be a compliment) but it feels like it’s busted and done.
When I was a young lad in my teens, I worked on farms, my own families farm and others’ farms as well. I worked hard and felt good at noon when we’d break to eat and rest for a few minutes. Sitting still and allowing warm muscles to cool was good.
The afternoon was the same and dinner was equally a blessing. After the evening meal, I would do what was required of me around the home place and when I fell into bed I felt tired and ready to relax.
But I felt good too. I felt strong as I went to sleep and I awoke ready to do it all again.
Something has gone wrong!
We are said to be more likely to end up in the emergency room. I know I’ve made my share of trips there. And I’ve noticed, though I have no statistic on this, that many of us with ADHD suffer from fibromyalgia.
There was, at one time, a theory that indicated that fibromyalgia might be the result of previous physical trauma. And those of us who fit the ADHDer in the emergency room statistic probably know what physical trauma is about.
My point is this …
So I guess what I’m leading up to here is this idea that having ADHD may well be physically debilitating as well as socially, financially and emotionally debilitating.
I don’t give up easily, I don’t give in willingly, and I won’t give out passively. And I’m not ready to lay down my tools, crawl off into a corner and die.
But like every other part of my life, I want to understand what is happening to me. I want to know as much as I can about the way my mind and body work, or at least about how well they work.
And the upshot of this is …
I’m damned if I’m going to waste any more of my life than I need to with regrets and self chastisement. And I’m doubly damned if I’m going to do those things if now my strength and endurance are limited by pain and fatigue.
But in the long day of life, I’m ready for lunch, and a bit of a sit down … or is this dinner? I don’t remember.
Babcock, K. (2014). How Did I Get So Old. Psych Central. Retrieved on February 6, 2016, from http://blogs.psychcentral.com/adhd-man/2014/07/how-did-i-get-so-old/