There was a time in my life when I was lost. I’m not talking about religion here. I’m talking about life.
I was unsure of myself, and with good reason. I seemed to be on the wrong planet.
I felt certain that I was in the wrong place because I didn’t fit in. I didn’t match the other people in my world. They didn’t behave the way I did, didn’t think the same, didn’t act the same, didn’t talk the same … nor nearly as much as I.
Things I needed …
I needed a map, but I needed a map that would lead me back to my home planet. Also, a space ship.
Failing that, I needed to know how I was different, why I was different, and how to not be different.
A working theory
In my early teens I developed the theory that maybe everyone was different, everyone felt this way, and most everyone knew this so they mostly had moved on long ago.
I decided to withdraw from the world as much as I could and study earthlings to see if I could mimic them.
It worked!!! … sort of
I had some success with this approach, enough that I continued. The things I learned in concert with the coping mechanisms my mother and grandmother had taught me seemed to make my life much better, though I also by this time was clinging to the withdrawal model of life and self medicating heavily with alcohol.
It worked like this, I would involve myself as much as I needed to with the world, behave in ways I had learned and been taught, and when I blew it socially I would retreat to the hermitage in my mind and anesthetize myself from my millefiori thoughts with rum if I could afford it or steal it, or beer if that was all that was available.
I finally came to the realization that I needed to leave the anesthetizing out of my life. It took a few years to figure out that I had to quit it altogether, that I could not just reduce the dosage. I was a drunk.
But when I got to the sober side, I was still no farther ahead in knowing what I was or who I was. I was still on the wrong planet.
Years of wandering …
It took me what is likely more than half of my life to discover that I had ADHD. I wasn’t aware until I was forty-nine what ADHD was and I wasn’t diagnosed until I was fifty.
And then I started learning about my disorder. But knowing why I was different didn’t really make me feel like I was home. I was still on the wrong planet.
My space ship arrives
And then, I found my people … online. It turns out my spaceship to my home planet was social media and its wonderful ability to allow “like-minded” people to form groups and to associate, socialize, live together.
And now that I have my communities of people like me, my home planet if you will, I like other persons like me, am reengaging with this planet, knowing I am home, and that coping is all I’ve ever needed, coping and the whole picture.
Welcome to my planet.