So here’s the promised update (as of the Canadian programming schedule; further episodes have aired elsewhere and, spoiler alert, it looks like Max goes on medication and it helps).
So far we’ve got television and ice cream as two alleged culprits cited as the source of Max’s behavior. The usual suspects. But what do the experts say?
The countdown is on! Seven days are all that’s left to change the world for the better.
But let me begin at the beginning.
Being diagnosed with ADHD at 47 was a revelation. It explained so much about my life, there was no way I could imagine having another experience that paralleled the insights from learning about ADHD (for example, why the only part about Martha Stewart I could understand was the jail part; at the time of my diagnosis I was about five years behind in my income tax).
My friend is hooked on Coronation Street; has been for years.
How could I help watching when she and her partner were glued in front of the telly on weekends when I was visiting? I couldn’t be rude, now could I?
So, there we were one evening, me on the loveseat, her in her comfy chair, immersed in Episode 8439 (the show’s been running since 1960).
I’m noticing the over-the-top behavior of eight-year-old Max, son of Kylie and adopted son of husband David.
I know where this is going, I say aloud.
Sure enough, two episodes later, adoptive dad David has set up an appointment with the family doc, against mom Kylie’s wishes. Kylie doesn’t want the kid to have a label. (I’ve already labeled him. Too late, Kylie.)
Were you shocked? Was I? Yes and no. But mostly, no.
Sadly, some of us dealing with mental health issues, personally and in our professional lives, or have loved ones who are, are not as shocked as others seem to be.
Within the context of Williams’ history, his sudden death is a shock yes, but sadly not as much a shock as if his mental health and addiction challenges had been absent. With the presence of severe depression, addictions, bipolar disorder, or any combination of the above, suicide is not out of the blue, but one of many responses to the pummeling experience of living with these conditions.
So often we see that behind the public persona of some of our funniest, most clever, compassionate, kind, and empathetic artists, lies a dark side. I’ve always used humor to overcome, but sometimes to cover my pain. I’m not the first one, and certainly not the only one, to retreat behind a quick succession of jokes and comedic banter when I’m feeling emotionally challenged.
In the past I’ve asked my coach if others he’s worked with talk about similar issues. He assured me that the coaching session is for me, and whatever I want to work on, in whatever way I choose, is just fine.
This did nothing to quell my anxiety about whether or not I was doing this coaching thing right. What nailed it was our last session, which began with our usual chatter to ease in to the conversation. And then I said,
I want to share something. I’m not sure if it’s a subject for coaching.
He replied, “There’s a coachable moment in everything.”
Really? Okay then. Coach this…
It happened at a job interview. I found myself feeling clueless about eye contact: how much was too much? I was trying to pay attention to what the interviewer was saying, and ended up worrying that I was staring like an expressionless sociopath so I looked away – just when she asked me a question. I’d been vacillating between trying for a neutral expression, hoping to look attentive and reflective, and occasional smiles, which I was sure were apropos of nothing, ill-timed, and making me look even more nuts. I couldn’t help it. I had no idea whose face I was using, or how it got there, but it wasn’t mine.
Surprisingly, I got the job.
Nearly a decade has passed, and there have been few comparably cringe-worthy incidents.
Until now, that is.
Did you miss my introduction or Part I of guest blogger Shawn Ladd’s adventures? Read them here:
After the second SPECT scan, I had a long chat with Dr. Christine Kraus about how to read the qEEG results and what my specific readings could mean (Dr. Kraus only looks at the qEEGs, to avoid any possibility of bias.) The electrical activity in my brain is characteristic of a person who has ADD, who is prone to anxiety, and who may have a mood disorder. Cool. And there are several options that could help, which she’ll report to the psychiatrist for integrating into treatment options. Also cool. Then back to the hotel for my first drink in a week (I took the “no alcohol before testing” admonition very seriously), which turned into several, and one more sunset pee.
As promised in yesterday’s blog post, I’d like to introduce guest blogger Shawn Ladd, who is gracious enough to share his experiences at the Amen Clinics in Costa Mesa, CA. Thanks, Shawn!
I recently spent three days at the Amen Clinic in Costa Mesa, CA for further assessment and diagnosis of my ADD. I had a huge personal breakthrough when I was diagnosed with ADD (primarily inattentive) five years ago, but I’d noticed I was still struggling to initiate and follow through on projects, and was prone to bouts of depression.
Dr. Daniel Amen, known to millions of devoted PBS viewers for his specials during pledge weeks, is a prominent ADHD expert, psychiatrist, and best-selling author. What made him especially credible with me was his open and touching description of ADD in his own life and family, and his framework for distinguishing among seven distinct types of ADD. The Amen Clinics offer a multidisciplinary approach, but are unique in their use of SPECT scans (Single Photon Emission Computerized Tomography) that map blood flow into various parts of the brain responsible for particular cognitive and physical functions, and identify patterns that correlate with psychiatric and neurological conditions.
Some Amen Clinics also offer a quantitative electroencephalography (qEEG), a procedure that yields a similar map of the brain, but using electrical signals rather than blood flow. Curious to see if different methods led to different conclusions, I opted for both.
Before you get all judgy and shout at me, this post is not about sex. I’ll put that out there right now because believe it or not, I alluded to a Beatles song once in a post title and a reader got his nose out of joint because my post had nothing to do with the Beatles or with the song and he thought I was misrepresenting myself, trying to lure readers into my blog. Can you Imagine that? I just thought I was using a clever play-on-words.
Ok. I wasn’t just using a clever play-on-words. To be honest, the post was at the beginning of my blogging career and I might have been a tad anxious to attract readers, but jeepers. I did think it was clever. It taught me a lesson, and I’ve never done that again. But that’s why I thought I should announce immediately that this post isn’t about sex. So, if you’re looking for an ADHD romp through the haystack kind of tale, you’ll have to look elsewhere.
I was going to search for a few hyperlinks for you (I really am all about giving value to my blog readers) but then I thought the better of it and decided I didn’t want to be spammed by sex stuff in perpetuity. This is a new laptop (double entendre not intended) it’s clean, and I don’t want to dirty it up.
Besides, I’m not feeling well.
I just realized why social media can be so draining. I’ve been kidding myself that the only harm of spending too much time online is that it’s a colossal time waster and gateway to procrastination and avoidance. I just realized the deeper harm lurking beneath the surface.
The whole Facebook experience is an emotional minefield and I didn’t even know it.
Every time I login and there’s no personal message I die a little. If a cherished post isn’t liked or even noticed it’s a letdown. If others hijack a comment stream I feel steamrollered. If 92 people in a private group have responded to a comment I’m overwhelmed and completely incapable of joining the fray even if I want to. Then I feel irrelevant and disengaged. I think, Why am I even a member of this group if I’m not contributing?