On Tuesday, as I sat at my desk writing, I suddenly noticed the walls wobble. Then I watched as the floor slid side-to-side for what seemed like a distance of about a foot-and-a-half either way, like the torso of a bellydancer doing a rib cage slide.
My dog, Samantha, was sleeping in the hall outside my office; she didn’t flinch, not even a whisker-twitch. Still, I felt it prudent to call her and get the hell outta there.
Once on the sidewalk, I noticed that I was the only one standing in the late afternoon sun, panicking. Most of my neighbors were home; their cars were in their driveways.
I ran next door, with the intent of asking my neighbors if they’d felt the tremor. Nobody answered the door.
Self-awareness and ADHD
Why does my mirror lie to me?
It showed me someone I thought I knew
And now I learn that none of it’s true
I’ve spent a lifetime navel-gazing. As an adoptee, I had more reasons than most to ask the age-old question, Who Am I? If I’d been more introspective as a child, I would have self-analyzed myself out of existence.
I was watching Dr. Russell Barkley’s video about ADHD NOT being a gift for the umpteenth time (I find Barkley’s work, though upsetting, also comforting as he tells it like it is rather than sugar-coat my ADHD).
Whenever I need a splash of cold, hard reality I check in with Doc Barkley. This happens after I’ve read yet another ADHD tome full of feathered chorus girls dancing around with jiggly boobs in kick lines singing about the joys and sexiness of ADHD. Somehow, I always need a shower after reading these “Kiss Me – I Have ADHD!” books.
I’m sitting in the breezy sun room you use for dining. It’s shaded, cool, and comfortable, with wicker armchairs, a yellow cotton tablecloth with a red flower print, fresh flowers from the garden, and a view on three sides of trees, gardens, and the Niagara escarpment in the distance. I’ve just finished a fabulous meal which I call, “Lunch Femina” because it’s comprised of veggies from the gardens of three women: peas and beans from mine; fresh tomatoes from yours; and steamed Swiss Chard from my friend Joanne’s.
I’ve got a stack of books on ADHD with me, all needing to be reviewed.
I don’t recognize myself any more.
Yesterday, I was left to open and run the retail store where I work part-time by myself. The owners and accountant were out of town for the day.
Being left with this responsibility was another reminder of just how out of whack my self-concept can be. Here I was thinking that at the first opportunity, I’d get fired for my incompetence. Instead, I’m handed the key to the Empire. Either they were desperate, or they trusted me, or – just maybe – both.
I was reassured that Monday is the slowest day for a retail. As it happened, yesterday was the busiest day in the nearly 2 years that I’ve worked there.
Before my ADHD diagnosis, I’d worked in a bookstore and could barely handle the regular day-to-day shifts. At Christmas, I had a major meltdown. Needless to say, I didn’t last long.
Yesterday, here’s what I handled:
I felt like Victor Frankenstein’s monster this week. My life is off the rails with deadlines, demands and details. To top it off, my prescription ran out and my doctor ran off for a vacation.
Even with all my new organizational strategies, with all the changes I’ve made since my diagnosis, man, when I’m off my meds I feel like a monster. Worse, I can act like one too (just ask my friends who’ve endured my over-the-top irritability this week).
Created by an evil, or at least inept, scientist
Off meds, and with increased demands in my life, I felt like I’d been created by an evil, mad scientist who’d given me all the ingredients I needed for a happy life, except one.
I’m looking for a partner for my million dollar ideas. Everyone knows every ADHDer is brilliant, creative and entrepreneurial, right? So says the media.
The bad part is, we’re big on ideas, short on follow-through. That’s why I need an entrepreneurial type to take my brilliant ideas and run with them.
A solution came to me while driving home last night. My creative juices were flowing. Or maybe it was sweat. The heat wave, after all, hadn’t broken yet, so who can say? Point is, all this sweating and thinking and driving through the rolling countryside set my mind a-wandering…
Make that, my brain is melting. I’ve been trying to write a blog post all day, and one distraction has led to another and frankly, I’m too hot and tired and cranky to even care.
Just as an idea pops into my head, like mercury, it slips from my mind, drops to the floor and ricochets off my office furniture, finally sliding down the vent, disappearing forever.
It’s a holiday weekend, and visions of everyone in town lazing at the beach, drinking Margaritas, laughing in the backyard while barbecue smoke wafts upward are dancing in my head. All the invitations I declined because this was going to be an über-productive weekend are taunting me with their untasted pleasures.