Looking to the future ...

The Ghost, looking for Christmas yet to come with less ADHD effects.

“Spirit! Hear me. I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope?”

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in recent years it’s this: I have a lot to learn. And if I were pressed, I’d have to also admit that I love to learn. So it is no great surprise for me to discover that learning about ADHD is something I really enjoy. I enjoy it because it reveals things about my past that pass as learning also.

Double or nothing

I get to learn about my disorder and learn how it affected my life at the same time. But I need more if I’m to get beyond this haunted feeling I’ve had since my diagnosis. It’s downright eerie to discover reasons for past behavior, behavior that makes so much sense now, but didn’t way back when.

Okay, this is the future, but we’ll look quickly to the past again …

Back then it was just our individuality. If we were lucky, we were called unique, if not we were called much worse. Now we find that much of our behavior could have been written in advance, like stage directions for a play entitled “This Is Your Life!”

Act one, scene one: As the curtain rises we discover little Kelly sitting at the family breakfast table talking about all the things he’s going to do that day. His mouth is full of cereal and his spoon is waving around like the baton of a marching band leader. His one leg is hanging down the side of his chair, his foot is on the floor doing a twisting bouncing move, half way between the foot of a dancer and the foot of a runner setting up to get traction for the starters pistol to send him flying. We get the impression that, mid sentence or not, the instant the last mouthful of cereal is out of the bowl and in Kelly’s mouth there will be nothing left of the boy at the table but a whirl of dust in the space where he used to be and an echo of the side door clattering against its jamb as he flies out of the house to make good his promise to do everything that the world would allow him to get to that day.

Yep, I could write that play. But that wouldn’t help me out right now with my self growth issues.

Back to the future (talk about mixing metaphors)

So I’ve decided that I’m on the right path. I need to learn more yet, I need to grow in mind and in spirit. And someday, I’d like to be that boy at the breakfast table again. I’d like to get back the joy of being alive and without care of the thoughts others have about me. I’d like to have that joy of having nothing to keep me from success but distraction and my bedtime.

“Scrooge became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world.”

The lesson of the Ghost of Christmas yet to come is not lost on me. The future is not written in stone. My story is not yet on a tombstone or told in the empty echoing halls of some cold building where I might have been a known enigma. I can change my future, and I hope I shall.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, in the words of Ebeneezer Scrooge, “I must stand on me head.”