Moving On

Wow! It’s nearly a whole year since I last wrote in my blog. Shame on me lol 😉
Well, things have certainly changed a lot since then.

But where to start….

I could start by saying I ditched the psychotherapy, and have never regretted it.

I could say that I never made it to the ADHD specialist appointment, and I do regret that, to a degree.

I could say that my daughter has now also been diagnosed with ADHD.

I could say that my marriage of 17 years has pretty well ended (though it has been a long time coming and is not something I am mourning anymore, and we have yet to go through the process of separating).

But I guess I’d rather look at the positives.

My son has really come a long way since his ADHD diagnosis. He has discovered a love for theatre lighting, and is doing all he can to get experience in the area. His teachers think he will go far and they pull out all stops to help him get where he’s going.

My daughter has improved now she is on Concerta, and got a 10% improvement in her grades from last term. She is more settled at school, though things can still be a little rocky. While we have a long way to go, it is nice just to see her smile more than she used to.

With my marriage in the process of ending, I am starting to get excited over the possibilities of a new life. My son has a young adult friend staying with us at the moment, and he also has ADHD. It has been like a breath of fresh air having someone in the house who doesn’t yell at me when I interrupt, whose conversation is as disjointed as mine is, who puts the kids’ needs before his own, and who enjoys spending time with the kids doing whatever it is THEY want to do. He has shown my son ways to deal with his ADHD, and sat down and done craft with my daughter. He has held my son when he has cried, and has listened to me vent my frustrations. He has taught us how to laugh again. It has been his influence that has really made me realise how much better I can do for myself, rather than just settling for keeping the status quo (as my husband would like to do) and staying in the marriage. I am not looking forward to pulling apart all the strings that make up a marriage – finances, assets, emotions – but I am sure that it will benefit us all in the long term. Even if I never find that special someone, I will be free to be me without criticism, and the kids can live without the guilt trips and put downs that come from someone who is so insecure in his own life that he feels a need to lash out at anyone who is finding even a touch of happiness and fulfillment in theirs. I used to feel guilty that our marriage was not working. That it was all my fault. That if I could only get a handle on my ADHD symptoms, then things would improve. But now I am just relieved that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and I can see the way out. Finally I feel more comfortable with who I am. Thank you Justin.

Uncertainty

Well, I haven’t posted for a while, so I thought I had better write something. Not that I am really sure what to write, but then that seems to sum up my life right now. I am feeling unsure about quite a lot of things, with the psychoanalysis being up there at the top. It is such a rollercoaster ride of emotions that I am exhausted by it all. After a session I can feel upset, flat, disappointed, or just plain relieved that it’s over for the week. But then there are the times when something from an appointment leads to a small insight that makes it seem worth the emotional upheaval of it all.

I have had numerous sessions with the psychiatrist since I first posted about it all, and I still don’t know how I feel about it. Sometimes things seem to make a load of sense, and I feel I am gaining from my visits, but then other times I feel it’s all just a load of crock and is not worth my time. I am still extremely sceptical that my childhood can have so much bearing on my adult cognitive functioning. Anxiety I understand, but things such as procrastination and memory issues are more of a stretch.

I must admit that I have seen cognitive issues in patients who have had traumatic events in their lives that they did not deal with successfully at the time, but we are talking major events, often multiple, in patients with prior psychiatric issues. And they are not commonly seen. My cognitive issues seem to be bigger than my history would explain, in my opinion.

Take procrastination for example, as it was one of the most recent things we discussed. Theory has it that procrastination gained me something as a child, and I have retained it as a coping mechanism due to a “need” to retain some part of my childhood, supposedly because I have not been able to completely” grow up”, so to speak, because of unresolved issues. Maybe because I was not nurtured fully in such a manner to enable me to learn what I needed to become a grown woman. In other words, I did not have enough of a female role model in my life, so have stalled in some areas of development.

Makes sense. Sort of. I certainly didn’t get along particularly well with my mum, as she could be either suffocating, or not very sympathetic when I really needed her to be, and I never had a female role model to take her place until I was in uni and found a close female friend to talk and bond to. But I find it hard to reconcile such issues with why I procrastinate now, and how I ever really benefited from it when I was younger. Children do it as a subtle form of opposition and control, or because it gains them attention. It supposedly continues into adult life when there are unresolved issues that keep a part of a person reliving their childhood instead of moving on. I might not have been close to my mum, but I also don’t think that our relationship was awful either. We just didn’t see the world in the same way as one another. Why should that have such a huge impact on my life now?? And I did eventually end up with a female role model and peer support that enabled me to grow and develop more as a female.

The anxiety I have makes more sense. There were separation issues in my childhood that could quite well explain the anxiety issues. I spent time (weeks) in hospital with serious burns as a toddler, in the era when even parents had to stick to visiting hours. Then, shortly afterwards, my brother was born prematurely and was very, very sick, so I spent lots of time with grandparents and my dad, while my mum spent lots of time at the hospital. I guess that sort of explains why I worry about what others think so much. “Rejection” or “abandonment” by my mum (as I would have perceived it, anyway) seems to be a theme in my toddler years. It seemed to recur too. My youngest brother was also prem, and mum again had to spend time with him in hospital, and mum also had surgery that meant a long hospital stay. I probably wondered what I had done to cause my mum to leave me so much. And maybe it explains the lack of a stronger bond between us, and why I, of all my siblings, bonded the most with my dad and grandparents.

I don’t doubt that there is some benefit to the psych sessions. I have become more aware of my reticence regarding “opening myself up” to anyone, despite a desire to do so, and have a better understanding of why I do this, which mostly due to fear of rejection and/or humiliation stemming from, the “abandonment” thing in childhood and reinforced by events as a youth/teen…..sort of a vicious circle sort of thing where the expected happens (rejection, in my case) just because it’s expected to happen. I kept myself withdrawn, because I was avoiding rejection, and so I was rejected due to being shy and introverted. Even when I did become more outgoing, I kept a part of myself tucked away from others, and because I never opened up to others, I didn’t become close enough to anyone to get the emotional support I needed, or become anyone else’s “pillar of support” in return. Simply being aware of this has opened the door for better communication, and hopefully stronger friendships.

But there is still doubt that things will improve to the degree that I am given the impression they should, in the areas I would like them to. So I am still counting down the weeks until my appointment with the ADHD specialist  in March. I can always cancel it if things improve in leaps and bounds, but it helps to know that it’s there.

The Irony Of It All….

This has been a turbulent week.

I was enrolled, by work, in a training session called “Respecting Patient Choices”. The training for it is this coming Monday, and prior to this I am supposed to complete 6 online training modules.

I made a start on these modules, only to discover that the training isn’t to do with dealing with patients and their treatment preferences in general, but with their preferences in regard to end-of-life decisions. Do they want CPR, intensive care admission, trial of ventilation, comfort care only? Who is their preferred medical “proxy”, EPOA, EPOG? What is most important to them as they die – being pain free, being aware, having somebody there, dying alone, being at home, being in hospital or hospice? In other words, Advance Care Planning.

So, for the last week, I have been studying the methodology behind producing an Advance Care Directive, and how to discuss the topic with patients – because, let’s face it, nurses seem to be the ones with the most exposure to patients and with the most “connection” to the patients, so we tend to be the people they are most comfortable discussing their death with.

So, with all of this revolving in my head, it seemed almost natural that I would suddenly be faced with the mortality of those around me.

My grandfather, who is in his 90s, was admitted to hospital with cellulitis. Not good for someone his age, as infection can quickly overwhelm the elderly. Every time I see my grandfather, he looks more frail than the time before. He is becoming unsteady on his feet, he is going deaf, and he seems to be shrinking in on himself and is no longer the strong, opinionated man I remember from my youth. I am very aware that our final goodbyes will not be far into the future.

And a close friend just informed me that her husband has been diagnosed with metastatic bowel cancer. It was only a few weeks ago that the two of us celebrated our 40th birthdays, and now she has to hold her family together during the months of her hubby’s chemo, radiotherapy, and surgeries, not to mention the possibility of his death. They have two young boys. She has had a hard enough life already, and deserves something to go in her favour for once. It’s so unfair!!

And thanks to this stupid training I have been doing, I keep wanting to ask “Have you thought about what is most important to you in your final stages of life?”.

Aaaarrrgggghhhh!!!!

Phone Call Phobia

What is it about phone calls that turns my blood cold? I always thought I was weird, but reading the forums at TotallyADD shows me that I am not alone by a long shot. There are many people there who suffer the same affliction.

One thing I have noticed is that it tends to be those ADDers with co-morbid anxiety. I guess when you puts your foot in your mouth every second sentence, it begins to take a toll on your self-esteem. How can you possibly believe that you can state what you want to the person on the other end of the line without screwing up somehow, when you’ve stuffed it up so many times before? And you know that if you wish to resurrect a mistake, then you have to face another phone call and go through the explanation of “I just called and…..”, which is SO NOT HAPPENING!!!!

So the pressure really is on to get it right the first time, despite knowing it’s not likely, and what is bound to make things just that much worse?? Pressure!! It’s a losing battle.

Brain Fry

Well, I haven’t felt like blogging much this last week. My medical “stuff” has got me all tied up in knots, and for a few days I really wasn’t faring well.

I had my third psychiatric appointment earlier this week. The first thing we discussed was my decision regarding treatment. I expressed my desire to pursue both psychoanalysis, and ADHD assessment/meds. He made his opinion quite clear – he believes that by treating a condition with medication, any motivation to continue psychotherapy will vanish, and it will then fall by the wayside. He DID say that it was still up to me, I could very well be the exception to the rule, yada, yada, yada, but I still felt his disapproval. I said that my son’s medication helped him, but in no way did it control all of his symptoms, so I did not see that my motivation to undergo therapy would be affected by medication, as medication would not make everything “right”. I also informed him that I was concerned about my driving, and he replied that we would have to be careful, as therapy often worsens symptoms before improving anything! Yikes!!

Most of the appointment was spent covering ground we had been over before, just to make sure I understood (!!?), and he then explained a bit more about the process. He also mentioned that because I wasn’t presenting with a particular issue to deal with (such as gambling, child abuse, rape), then we would have to do some pretty aggressive digging to get to the underlying “conflict” in my life. Great….not!

Then we made a start.

Not nice. I went blank to start with, and then I brought up something I had been angry at my mum about when I was a teen, and we explored that, and my defense mechanisms that occurred as a result. Then time was up, and it was all done for now, thank you, see you next week. It was like being shut off mid-sentence.

I felt okay when I left, but the tears started halfway home, and I really let loose once I had privacy. I felt angry all over again at my mum. I felt upset over the lack of support over my decision to try medications. I felt frustrated that the therapy seems doomed to focus on the negatives, when I have so many positive memories from my childhood. I felt confused, and overwhelmed. And I wondered how my plan to be assessed for possible ADHD (that I thought would be a simple process) had evolved into this mess. My son had a test. He got a referral. He got offered medication. How did I end up on this convoluted path instead?!

And the doc was right. My symptoms did get worse. I ran a red light later that day. It had been amber on my approach, so it had only just gone red, but the fact that I didn’t even notice until I was nearly through the intersection terrified me.

I will continue to give therapy a go, because I can only grow stronger from the process. But if I am to stay sane and not kill anybody through my driving, then I need a pharmaceutical “crutch” for a while. So I have made an appointment with the ADHD doc (another psychiatrist), whose name I ended up getting from my current psychiatrist. It feels like I am back to where I was in May, when all of this started, because I now have to get a referral from my GP, and wait another 4 months for the appointment. And to really rub salt into the wound, it is with one of the first three psychiatrists I tried to call, but who didn’t answer the phone….so I impatiently moved on to the next on the list!!

Hobby or Hell?

If anyone asked me what my hobbies are, I would say sewing and various other craft activities such as knitting and scrapbooking. But do I really enjoy them? My disorganisation, procrastination, distraction, and anxieties all combine to make hobbies a rather exquisite form of torture.

I can say without a doubt that I love designing an outfit in my head. I see some fabric, and a multitude of possible uses floods my brain and I begin creating there and then. And the satisfaction of a completed garment that was made by ME is immeasurable. But when it comes down to the nitty gritty, I find I come completely unstuck. How much fabric should I buy? Which of my ideas is going to be the most practical? Which is going to be the least stressful to make? Should I make my daughter a much needed pair of pants, or make something for myself for once? Do I really want to attempt this new pattern on the “good” fabric, or should I do a test run first, knowing that I’ll possibly never get around to using the “good” fabric afterwards, but also knowing I could stuff up the “good” fabric if I don’t practice first? Should I go for pockets in pants, or go for the quick and easy option of omitting them? How can I lay out a particular pattern in order to make the best use of this fabric? And ultimately, is the final result worth all the agony when I could just go out and BUY something that will do the same job?!!!

As I said, TORTURE!!

In addition to the agony over producing a garment, my sewing room is in absolute chaos. All the time. I cannot move without having to step over a half finished something-or-other or a pile of elastic I have yet to put away. My cupboard is chock-a-block with plastic crates full of fabric. I even put up shelves, and they are loaded with containers that each have their specific contents – elastic, ribbon, velcro, cotton, etc, etc. But I am a compulsive/impulsive fabric and habadashery buyer and I have run out of room for my boxes of goodies. I just cannot turn my back on rainbow striped foldover elastic!! I might want it someday. So things have migrated onto the desk and over the floor, resulting in no room to move and reducing the likelihood of me putting things away after use. And so the problem grows…

Put these two together and it is a recipe for hobby disaster! How am I supposed to motivate myself to sew the item I so painstakingly decided upon and cut out if I am faced with having to clear a space just so I can sit at my sewing machine and sew? And once I do sit down, I look around the room and find myself feeling so depressed by the mess that I lose all motivation to sew. Or I get an overwhelming urge to tidy things, which also results in no motivation to sew!

To add insult to injury, my sewing “hobby” has resulted in more clothes being made for other people than for my family. Once my sewing ability became known at my daughter’s dance school, I found myself making more and more costumes for kids at the school – many parents cannot sew, and are happy to pay for someone else to do it. Being paid for my hobby was a novelty, and gave me the motivation to accept more sewing than my disorganised self could handle. But the motivation stopped there and the resulting last minute sewing marathons resulted in physical manifestations of the stress I was under, such as dermatitis, headaches, and mouth ulcers. But I could never find it in myself to say “no”.

A hobby is defined as an activity performed regularly in one’s leisure time for the purpose of enjoyment and relaxation. So maybe I don’t have a hobby after all, because I certainly don’t find much relaxation in sewing, or any other craft activity for that matter. There is some enjoyment, but much of it is hard work and mental stress. Do others find the same problem? Are hobbies REALLY for enjoyment and relaxation? Can anyone actually ENJOY doing something to the extent that it is relaxing? I often wonder if such reduced pleasure from leisure pursuits is typical of ADHD. Because if it is, then I have ADHD for sure!

Treatment Torment!

For all of my life, making choices has been an agony of indecision, unless of course they were made and acted upon impulsively. If I was unable to make a decision immediately and impulsively, then it tortured my brain for eternal hours, my mind going around and around, completely unable to make a decision one way or the other.

So of course, what happened with my psychiatric appointment yesterday? I was offered three treatment options, and I need to decide which one I want to follow through with!!! Complete and utter TORTURE!!

What I found to be even worse was the psychoanalytical perspective that does not put a label to a condition. It was proposed to me that my current symptoms could be caused by internal conflict as a result of growing up with a controlling mother and absent minded father, but nothing was said about anxiety, ADHD, depression, or any other specific disorder.

So if I feel this way, why did I not immediately take the doc up on his offer of referring me to an ADHD specialist who would almost certainly diagnose me and prescribe medication?? I honestly don’t know! Maybe because the doc was so reasonable about everything. I got the opportunity to basically select my diagnosis and treatment – anxiety, and be referred on for medication and CBT; ADHD and be referred on for assessment and medication; or the un-named set of symptoms, with roots in my childhood, that are “talked through” in an effort to allow insight and understanding, and thus growth and change.

Maybe it was a desire not to be seen as a drug seeker. I know that my doc believes that medications are very overused, and are a quick fix method of treating many disorders. I certainly agree, but I also believe that medications certainly have their place and should not be dismissed out of hand (not that my doc was doing this). But what is the right course of treatment for my issues? Who can say. I certainly think that therapy has it’s place. And maybe it can help me deal with the anxiety that has plagued me for much of my life. But will it help with my ADHD-like symptoms?

I have Googled psychoanalysis to death, and have been pretty disappointed with the results. Not much comes up with regards to the success or failure of it as a form of treatment. I found a couple of articles that supported it, including one on kids with proposed ADHD, but the kids with ADHD symptoms that were treated successfully with psychoanalysis were actually products of dysfunctional families. And I mean dysfunctional. They had separated parents with major issues of their own (such as drug abuse, or depression), or they were victims of emotional, sexual, or physical abuse or neglect. That is so NOT me!! Sure, I had some issues with my parents, but who doesn’t?! Mine were certainly “normal” growing up kind of issues.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to examine my anxiety issues. My doc proposes that they have developed as an adaptive mechanism to some form of mental conflict during my growing up, especially in my early teens when kids are the most vulnerable. So how does that explain one of my anxieties – phone phobia? I remember a time when I would happily answer the phone when my parents were busy, and when later asked who had called, I would not be able to give an answer because I had not remembered to ask. And it happened over and over and over. I was constantly chewed out because of this, and I eventually hated answering the phone because I knew I would not remember to ask the appropriate details. Hey presto…phone phobia! Is this history of mine a sign of the presence of childhood ADHD (the constant forgetting and inability to learn readily from mistakes) that subsequently developed into an anxiety/phobia? Or is it a result of some form of subconscious “oppositional” behaviour aimed at asserting my independence when I felt I had no other way to do so? Both explain the development of the anxiety, and this is where I come unstuck in my ability to decide what to do regarding treatment.

To top it all off, I nearly drove up the back of another car yesterday. Again. I really need to get things sorted before I do some real damage to somebody. This time it was because I was distracted by a car pulling in ahead of a big truck. I wanted to see who was stupid enough to do such a thing, and I nearly didn’t notice in time that the car in front of me had stopped.

The near miss has made me more impatient for results. I don’t know if I can wait. Psychotherapy takes time, and I am not sure I can afford it. Middle age and the hormonal imbalances that come with it have escalated my symptoms such that I even find it hard to dig up enough motivation to shower!

I think, for now, that I will attempt to pursue a mixed treatment. I would like to ask to be referred to the ADHD specialist, so I can get some chemical assistance for driving in busy traffic. But I would like to see where therapy takes me too. Because let’s face it, I am curious. I want to know what it’s like, and if it works.

But you know what they say about curiousity and Kats!!!

My Story

My story continues…..

When my son was first diagnosed with ADHD, it put me in research mode. I spent hours upon hours learning everything I could about ADHD, and discovered that it fit my son very well. But through all of this, I had my mother’s comment in the back of my mind – “he is just like you”. I began to look more towards myself, and began to notice that the ADHD symptoms also described my life.

Grief and regret were my first emotions. I was still under the belief that ADHD was something that kids and teens were treated for. I began to wish I had been born in the 90s, so I could have received the help I needed to do better at school, and feel better about myself.

Then I discovered “adult ADHD” as a link on a website. I nearly didn’t click on it. I was supposed to be educating myself so I could better help my son, not looking at self-diagnosing myself with yet another medical condition. But curiosity prevailed and I finally found out that ADHD is now considered a life-long disorder.

Now my research REALLY began. The more I read about adult ADHD, the more I felt like I was coming home. Reading through ADHD forums made me laugh and cry. I could not believe there was so many people out there who had similar issues to me.

But then came the hurdle of seeking help. Did I really want to? Would a doctor believe me? Was it worth it, at my age? I decided that it was worth a try, if only to be able to put a name to what has been bothering me all my life.

I searched out some names of psychiatrists (from our local ADHD association website) and made myself a list. I picked up the phone and put it down again so many times before I went through with the first phone call to get an appointment. And then I nearly gave up, as the first doctor I called wasn’t taking new patients, the second had retired, and the third wasn’t answering the phone. Eventually I had some luck and got an appointment, but it was a long wait (4 months, roughly). And boy, was I impatient!!

Then I had to deal with getting a referral. Ugh!!! I had already decided not to go to my usual doctor, as I have never felt particularly comfortable with him (but he was free, and local, so I continued to go there), but another event really made up my mind. After my son’s ADHD diagnosis, I took my son to our GP to get a referral to a paediatrician so we could discuss medications. Our GP told us that we’d probably find that my son was a normal teenage boy, despite having the assessment in front of him that proved my son’s ADHD. So, who to see for a referral….??

But before I decided on a GP to see, I had to prepare myself for the GP’s appointment (anything to delay lol). I printed out a couple of online ADHD tests and filled them in. I also got my hubby to do one of them (a quite lengthy one) on my behalf. That one was interesting. He highlighted things that I did not – he saw me as more hyperactive than I did, and when I thought about it, I suppose that he was accurate because I do things like fidget, and get up and down through movies, and have to pace or gesture when I talk.

I also decided it was time to get a formal diagnosis and treatment for my restless legs syndrome (RLS). I had put it off because it is one of those disorders that many people believe doesn’t exist, and I had simply self-medicated with over the counter pain killers since I was a teen. Interestingly enough, RLS is a disorder based on dopamine, like ADHD. In my research, I had discovered that sleep deprivation can cause ADHD-like symptoms, so my RLS really needed treating before I looked into ADHD. My RLS had reached the stage where it was happening every night and was painful – my feet burned, and my groin felt as if my knickers were too tight!! And it was also well beyond the reach of the pain killers I was using.

Anyway, I discussed it with my GP and got a prescription for pramipexole. Wow! It helped much more than I thought it would. I still ended up with breakthrough symptoms at times, and the medication caused insomnia too, so I did some research and requested low-dose gabapentin be added to the mix (hoping that it would kill the breakthrough RLS symptoms, as well as helping my back pain, and improving my sleep, due to the sedating side effect). It helped, so I was able to begin cutting back on the other pain killers that I had been using.

So, back to the ADHD issue. I decided to see a GP that I had taken my daughter to see previously. She was close in age to me, and dealt with my daughter’s anxiety issues very well. I left the appointment until the last minute to organise. Typical me! I was sooooo nervous. I gave her the rundown on my son, and then said that I was concerned about the same symptoms in myself. I could not believe how nice she was about it. She expressed curiosity, was open and honest about her own lack of experience with adult ADHD, and acknowledged my feelings of nervousness and worry that I’d not be believed. A HUGE weight went off my mind. Somebody was in my corner, and would ensure I got the help I needed. The GP gave me a referral and a promise of support. Phew!!

The next part of my road to a diagnosis was the psychiatrist’s appointment. Now THAT was a disaster. I waited the endless weeks, only to arrive and find they had no record of me. I could have cried. But they determined that I had booked my appointment just before their computer system had crashed, so I got loads of sympathy and understanding. The doctor had actually cancelled all his appointments anyway, due to a family emergency, and was not going to be taking any new long term patients when he returned, as he was planning to wind down his practice.

So….the upshot of it was that the secretary found me a new psychiatrist who would fit me in. I got an appointment, and didn’t have to go through anxiety and procrastination issues over making more phone calls.

Prior to the original appointment, I did what others have suggested, and wrote lots of notes about my life, and dug out my school reports. I took these to my new appointment, and nervously discussed my issues.

The appointment was an hour long, and was spent discussing my life in general. My childhood, my kids, my relationship with my hubby and my parents, my brothers, and my feelings about things. He probed my Catholic upbringing, to ensure it wasn’t a cause of any issues, he asked about why I thought I felt “out of step” with my peers, he asked about accidents and injuries, as well as general health, he asked about medications I was on, and any surgery I’d had. Very thorough. But not enough. But I would have been worried if he had given me any medications based on one hour of discussion. He agreed that there was some form of underlying disorder that needed treatment, and he wants to follow up with a cognitive assessment to determine if ADHD is one of the issues I am dealing with, as there are many disorders that mimic ADHD to a degree, and cognitive testing will help with a diagnosis. From that, I can guess that ADHD cannot be ruled out yet, and that our discussion supported ADHD as a possibility. The doc took my notes, online tests, and report cards to look at between appointments.

So, the next appointment is in a week. And I think I am more nervous about this one than I was for the last one. Crunch time is coming, and I am starting to doubt myself. After wanting to try ADHD medication (if ADHD was diagnosed), I am now worrying about the side effects and wondering if I really want to go down that path if offered. I am almost hoping that the doc wants to try antidepressants, or something else first! Ugh!! What a mess my brain is at the moment!

And so the countdown continues….

A Bit About Me

I thought I had better write something about me, as a person, just to give a bit of background about why I am concerned about my life enough to seek help.

I am a 40 year old female, with a husband and two kids. My daughter is 13, and has generalised anxiety disorder (GAD) and was only a couple of symptoms short of an Asperger’s diagnosis. She is the quiet worrier in the family. She likes routine and the familiar, and is very young for her age. My son is 14 and has ADHD. He is the live-wire. He is sociable, intelligent, and inquisitive, and is generally mature for his age.

I don’t remember much from my early childhood. I was a tomboy, and I loved being outdoors. I also liked reading, and used it as an escape from boredom. I was a daydreamer right the way through to when the kids came along (when other things took over my thoughts!!). I always found school easy, and I loved to learn (and still do).

I have two younger brothers, and the one closest to me shows all the signs of ADHD. He was very hyperactive as a child and teen. He hated school, was terrible at school work, and dropped out as soon as he could. He has had many, many jobs, due to boredom, but has never been without one for long, as he can talk his way into and out of anything. He has been in trouble with the law for traffic offences, and has been involved in drug use. He is the accident prone one out of us all. If someone was going to hurt themselves, it would be him. And he had some inventive ways to do it!!

My father is more like me and my son – many unfinished projects, procrastination, piles of stuff everywhere, poor memory for things, very clever and curious, but absent-minded. He is also like me in that we both have anxiety issues, and so are quieter and more tentative at times than my son is. Anxiety seems to curb some of my impulses, though certainly not all.

My childhood was full of the outdoors. My hyperactive brother and I spent hours playing in the creek, often falling in. We rode our bikes everywhere, and would have competitions to see how fast we could go down the hill that we lived on. We made flying foxes using stuff stolen from Dad’s toolshed, and I remember the adrenaline rush of discovering the hard way that we had used stretchy rope by mistake (it was a rapid plunge to the ground that resulted!!). We jumped off the house roof, climbed trees, made go-carts, played with fire, and cooked (and ate) all sorts of imaginary things using plants (it’s a wonder we survived, as we had an Oleander tree in our yard until my parents discovered how poisonous they were). I was usually the one with the inventive ideas, and my brother was the one who tested them out first!!

At school I did well. I was given extension work at times, to keep me busy. However I do remember, even as far back as my primary school years, having problems with large amounts of written work (such as essays and projects). I recall mum writing out the info that I was supposed to put in my work, and then I would copy it into my book. Usually I would get sick of it and she would finish it off for me (she was amazingly good at imitating my writing). As I got older, I began to have more problems with organisation and motivation. Homework was boring, for the most part, and so was revision. Essays were often a struggle, as I found it hard to move beyond dot points and get some depth into my writing. And I was always being told off for rushing and making careless mistakes. I still did well though, as I was gifted with intelligence and a love of learning that kept me from failing miserably. But I still know I could have done so much better than I did, and I have moments when I regret that immensely.

I developed some social anxiety as I grew up. I felt that I didn’t fit in with my peers, and I think much of this started when I moved to an all-girls school, where my tomboy nature found the “make-up and clothes” focus of most girls to be alien. My intelligence was threatening, and I think my impulsive nature also meant that I said and did things I shouldn’t have without being aware of it.

My favorite subjects were in the maths and science arena. I disliked anything that involved a lot of writing, and loved practical, hands on stuff. I was one of those kids that people love to hate – I was good at nearly everything I tried, and was quick to pick up anything new. But once the novelty wore off, and the hard work began, I often gave up. I have seen the same in my son, who has tried many different sports and hobbies, and who has the same natural talent for learning and the same dislike of putting in effort 🙂

I eventually finished high school, with pretty average grades considering my potential, and was accepted into a Bachelor of Science at uni. I had applied for engineering, but wasn’t accepted due to my lower than needed marks. At uni I learnt how hard study could be. No teachers to breathe down my neck giving me reminders of assignments and tests, and lots of due dates to keep track of. I managed to pass one subject despite not handing in a major assignment, but I failed two others. By second year, I really had no direction in my life and was staying at uni for want of something else to do. Part way through the first semester, one of my lecturers told us all how many years of study she had done to get where she was, and that did me in. I quit uni there and then.

After a year away from study, and some life skills under my belt, I had learned more about myself, and about the employment arena. It made it easier to decide on a career, and I chose nursing. I planned to be a midwife or work in paediatrics, as I loved children and babies. Study had more meaning to me then, so I did much better. I still had trouble keeping track of due dates, and things were still completed in a mad, last minute rush, but I did okay. And I finally made the mental connections needed to be able to write a decent essay.  I didn’t do so well when it came to the hospital placement side of things though. I remember having no idea how to plan my day. I was completely unable to wrap my mind around it. I had never had to plan and prioritise things in that way before. But I got there in the end, and finished my degree.

I ended up getting graduate work in a rehab facility, and I am still there after 15 years. I found I enjoyed the work more than I thought I would. The patients are there longer, so I could get to know them, instead of having to cope with new patients every day, but they are not there long enough that they become “same old, same old”. There is enough routine in the job to keep me on track, without so much that I become bored. It did take me a long time to get my head into the “planning” side of the job. I think my co-workers wondered how I had ever managed to become a nurse, but my difficulties were probably blamed on the transition of nursing training from the hospitals to the universities, rather than any personal deficit of mine. Especially since I obviously knew a lot, despite my poor planning ability. And once I had found my feet, so to speak, I was fine.

I married the same year I started in my nursing job. My husband is very organised. He keeps his things tidy, and keeps track of his belongings (mostly). He manages our money, because I would fail miserably at it (I couldn’t save money or chocolate as a child!). He also files all the important paperwork – my only problem lies in losing it before I can give it to him to file 😦

The kids came fairly soon, and I found I was more organised than I had ever been, because I had to be. Kids also drove away those days when I felt edgy, bored, and irritable – I was too busy for such feelings to creep in. I loved being a mum, and I felt complete with our “pigeon pair”. My daydreams were replaced by musing on what the kids would be like as adults, and how they would go about their growing up.

While I managed to be a good mother, I fell flat as a housekeeper. My husband and I have had many an argument over the untidy state of the house, and my inability to act on things unless I am nagged constantly. There have been times when I feel lazy and useless, and I hate my lack of motivation and persistence. I have regular bouts of intense stress, due to procrastination followed by a last minute rush (and the anxiety of knowing I have an incomplete task yet to do), and as a result I have bouts of dermatitis and mouth ulcers to accompany the stress. But things get done, I have learned to live with my failings, and I enjoy my life for the most part.

So why seek help if everything’s okay?

I guess that deep down, I still feel that things aren’t quite right. I am sick of having grand plans that never come to fruition because I keep putting them off, or cannot save the money to make them happen. I hate myself for the pain I cause my husband when I forget to wish him a happy birthday or ask him about his tennis match. I fear the return of the edgy, irritable, bored feeling I used to get at times when I was home alone, because I will be alone much more often once the kids grow up. And if I don’t make some changes, I worry that I won’t be able to bridge the differences between my husband and I once the kids are no longer at home. Anything can be overcome in a new marriage, but it takes more work as the novelty wears off. And I don’t know if I have the persistence and motivation to do so.

The Beginning

The start of my story actually begins not with me, but with my son. He is currently 14 years old, and in his first year of high school this year.

The only time my son has ever arrived anywhere on time, was the day he was born. It was on his actual due date, though he still needed the help of forceps to arrive, as he obviously hadn’t got his shit together even then, and had to be dragged kicking and screaming to greet the world!!

He was blonde and blue eyed, with such a serene face that that nobody would believe he spent the nights screaming with colic and making me wonder about my parenting ability. He smiled early and talked early – a social boy who loved people. And at 14 months when his sister was born, he took her under his wing as “my bubby” and made sure she was looked after by all and sundry.

When I went back to work, my kids started in childcare, where my son thrived (and my daughter didn’t!!). We were told he was bright and intelligent, and his curious questions certainly proved this (how does the water get up into the sky to make rain??). But as he progressed through school, this great potential never seemed to be fulfilled. His teachers were always telling us thast he could do so much better, if he would only TRY!

We go his hearing tested. No issues there. We pushed for the school to get him assessed to look for learning disabilities and similar, but nothing showed up there either. ADHD crossed my mind at one stage, but when I talked to my mother (a teacher, so she should know, I thought), she just said that he did not have ADHD, that it was genetics, pure and simple, as I had been just like my son at school. Anyway, I figured, it would have shown up in the school’s assessment of him. Which it didn’t.

We changed schools. My son suddenly had loads of friends, he discovered a talent for music, and he had a wonderful teacher who caught him up in his areas of deficit, so we breathed a sigh of relief and started to relax. He seemed to be doing fine, after all. And then the downhill slide started again.

He began losing assignment sheets, forgetting commitments, and talking in class. He quit choir on an impulse, which he regretted within a fortnight.  By his final year of primary school, things really took a turn for the worst with the onset of puberty. He began losing his temper much more often, and fights with his sister became a routine occurance. Then “the girlfriend” happened and all his focus was on her. Everything else went by the wayside until it all ended and he discovered the hard way that girls can be bitches!!

High school offered the opportunity for a fresh start, and things looked up initially. Until the wheels fell off again after a term. Lost paperwork, disorganisation, difficulty getting up in the mornings….and I would love to know just HOW he managed to lose his school shoes!! Three times!!

Despair had me asking a psychologist if she could do anything to help my son with his organisation skills. But to my amazement, she suggested testing for ADHD. And lo and behold, my son showed a textbook ADHD profile. Then that comment of my mother’s came back to haunt me…..”he is just like you”….and so MY story begins.