Check this!

I have a problem. I have ADHD, and I have some anxiety issues. I also seem to have some depression, albeit very mild. But this, or these, aren’t my problems. Well, they’re my problems, but not the problem I’m referring to.

Follow along with my logic here, won’t you?

Ten percent of the population, roughly, have ADHD. I’ve read some statistics that suggest that thirty percent of all ADHDers have a comorbid condition, and fifty percent of persons with ADHD and a comorbid condition have more than one comorbid condition.

That’s fifty percent of thirty percent of ten percent, or one and a half people in every hundred (fifteen in every thousand for those of you who don’t deal with half people very well) have not only ADHD but also at least two comorbid conditions.

Clearing up the fog around ADHD Medication.

I’ve always been willing to answer questions regarding ADHD medication, but I’m not a health care professional. I’ve read a lot on this subject, but I’ve always had to qualify my answers.

So it is with great pleasure that I get to tell you all that today’s blog, and Friday’s, will be answers to some of the questions that I’ve heard most often. And these answers will be given by someone whom I am honored to have share her expertise on my blog.

Laurie Dupar, PMHNP, RN, PCC is a certified ADHD coach and a nurse practitioner. Her web page can be found at www.CoachingforADHD.com and her contact information is there as well (at the bottom of her page).

Beautiful Sky ...

“Isn’t that a beautiful sky?” I said to myself last night as I backed into my west-facing driveway.

I turned off the engine and as I undid my seat belt and opened the door I realized I’d spoken out loud. Well, it was a beautiful sky.

I’m doing that more and more these days, talking out loud when I’m alone. I had done it less when I started taking Concerta, but I’ve been doing it more since my wife died.

A creative photo of creative people

I abhor prejudice. To decide that someone is unacceptable on some level because of a perceived difference is intolerable to me. I cannot believe that a person is better, or worse for that matter, because of a difference in skin color, faith or religion, political affiliation … the list goes on.

Stereotyping, while a milder form of prejudice, is still a form of prejudice. And it isn’t always milder. Witness racial profiling.

In the same way that some people think that a person with a physical disability has all physical disabilities, a person who has the appearance of the so called “average terrorist” … must be a terrorist.

The gift of ADHD

Some say ADHD is a gift. Some say it’s a curse. We’ve had this discussion before. Many say it’s a gift with serious issues, and others say it’s a curse with some bright spots.
I say … Enough!
I’ve weighed in on this issue before and my final judgment was that ADHD is a set of symptoms, problems really, that cause complications in my life.

These complications have had definite negative effects. But they also cause me to think differently, and that allows me to see things from a different angle, in a different light.
Up side, down side …
Sometimes this skewed vision allows me to solve puzzles that others struggle with. Sometimes it leaves me looking like an ass. Sometimes I’m too self involved to be able to tell you which situation I’m in at the moment.

I like to find the unique views, and I'm not afraid to climb to find them ...

I climb on things – all the time. I have no idea why, no idea what the attraction is. I’ve tried to figure it out.

I know I like adventure, but that’s why I cook, that’s why I read and go to the movies, that’s why I buy lottery tickets … when I remember to.

Climbing on things, around things, over and under things, that’s adventure too, but it’s not just adventure.

Okay, there might be a hint more adventure involved. I do like hard to reach places, I love the unique view I get from the middle of the river. If I can get there without getting wet, that’s better. Still, there’s more to it than just adventure.

When I was young I loved to climb the spruce trees out in front of my home. I loved to sit quietly, looking down at my house. I remember being up so high I could see both sides of the steeply pitched roof of my home below me. These giant trees were at least 70 feet tall, and I was well up there, maybe 50 feet, maybe higher.

Late again!

You know, having an ADHD friend may be a mistake. We can’t be counted on to be on time. Ha, sometimes we can’t be counted on to show up at all. We’ll forget your birthday. We’ll forget dinner dates. We’ll forget to gas up your car when we borrow it.

Hell, we might forget we borrowed your car in the first place.

A cousin of mine married a man who may or may not be one of us, but I’m giving him an honorary diagnosis (I can do that right? It’s part of my membership kit, a certificate that allows me to initiate others into our family???). They were leaving their home on the east coast to come to the center of the continent for a visit.

The write stuff ...

A class. A course on writing, of all things. That’s where I was on Tuesday night, a novel writing course.

And am I planning on writing a novel? Well … not so much. Oh, I’m not saying it won’t happen, I’m slowly writing my childhood memoirs and have every expectation of publishing them eventually, but right now? No. I have so much on the go right now, so many different tasks lined up one might be led to believe that I had ADHD.
Oh, yeah … forgot there for a minute.
On Tuesday night I entered the classroom with some trepidation. As you heard in Wednesday’s post, I had forgotten my medication on Tuesday. That was not my only cause for concern, however.
What could possibly go wrong?
The last time I set foot in a classroom I was, by my own estimation, normal, a norman, a standard issue human male – 1959 model. The course I was taking back then was, surprise, a writing course. Freelance Writing.

It’s easy to follow the creation of the ADHD mask. It starts when we are young. Our behaviour is questioned, isolated, centred out for ridicule. We learn to hide things, first our pain, then our desires. Finally we suppress our goals.

Our pride dies. Not a painless death, but the long drawn out tortured agony of a thousand deaths. Each time we think we have done away with it, we find ourselves feeling a bit of pride in the way we’ve handled something or accomplished some small task.

Then we think we’re on the right track, finally making progress, soon to join the ranks of the successful and take our rightful place where we’ve always felt we’ve belonged.

Weighing words

Unique or odd? Adventurous or foolish? Quick to forgive, or just too distracted to remember your anger? You decide. You tell me. But before you do, let me tell you what I think.

As a child, I never forgot that I was different, but I never felt substandard. I didn’t know I suffered from ADHD, no one did. But my mother, God bless her, made me feel like I was okay.

I didn’t have to be like anyone else, it was okay to just be me. No, that’s not quite right, not quite all there was to it. It was absolutely imperative that I be me, that I be just me.

I didn’t have to conform, all I had to do to please her was to bring my best to everything I did. It was always enough as far as she was concerned, and never enough as far as I was concerned. I always wanted to try harder. I didn’t always, but I always wanted to.