#thehyperactivemind

[the-hyperactive-mind]

A Letter to My Parents

Dear Parents,  I think you both know by now I don’t know how to talk about the things I feel. I never have. You, Ma, know this better than anyone. Maybe its because of my reactive whatever disorder that you told me I have. Maybe its something else I don’t know myself truly why I do this. But what I do know my inability to express my thoughts and feelings regarding my behavior or choice of actions etc. has caused more than a fair share of problems from general concern and great frustration, to questioning if I have any true understanding of feelings or my actions to wondering if I actually feel anything at all. Well, to put it shortly I do feel and feel a hell of a lot more than I could begin to express. And being that I for some reason lack the ability to express myself confidently, sincerely and truthfully in words, I can write. While I know that both of you will probably never read this because I probably won’t show you, I’m thinking maybe this will be a step for me in beginning to force myself to tell you. Also please bare with me as Im sure this will be all over the place but I’m just spit balling everything out. Firstly, I’d like to try and put you at ease by telling you yes I do feel things. I have emotions. Don’t worry I’m not that messed up the head. I happen to feel very deeply to the point it might be unhealthy. I always have. I’m not sure if it is because I’m a thinker or because of the way my brain is wired. When I see someone else hurt, I feel for them even long after I see them. I hate for people to feel sad, I want people to feel happy. It’s been that way as long as I can remember. Maybe this seems hard to believe but its true. This is where the problem sorta comes in. We all know I have my issues. They’ve been with me forever and unfortunately they tend to cause me lots of problems. Before you go thinking that I am gonna blame the way I am on my ADHD I’m not. You know I hate using it as an excuse and never have. Hell, I refused my getting accommodation for years because I wanted to prove I could do things on my own even when it was clearly something I needed. The fact of the matter is that regardless of what I want to believe about myself a lot of myself is dictated by this. My impulsivity, reactiveness, my lack of focus, my hyper-focus, my constant struggle to to get my shit together no matter how hard I try, it will always follow me for as long as I live. I’ve known this forever but never accepted this. There was a period of time when I was much younger when I started to really understand this and I can’t even begin to explain to you how much it bothered me. I didn’t like the struggles I had. I wanted to be “normal” so badly I wished I could do anything to fix myself. Thats when the self loathing and beating myself but really began. I didn’t feel I deserved the love I was given or any good thing that happened to me because something was wrong with me. I wasn’t normal. With every impulsive move i made that caused problems or mistake, regardless of whether it was related to it or not, I took it beyond personally. I hated seeing the damage and frustration my actions caused to those around me as I didn’t want those I loved to suffer because of something I did. Yet, I had no idea how to control it or stop myself. I didn’t know how to cope with these feeling and thus sometimes when I would throw a fit it’d be in frustration with myself. Once I got a little older and understood that I could internalize what I felt, a whole new world opened. Maybe I couldn’t protect those I love from my actions but I could at the very least try and prevent them from worrying further about me from dealing with the way I truly felt. If I never cried no one would worry. I hate making people worry which is ironic because all I do is make people worry. I didn’t feel I deserved anything considering all the mistakes I made. Thats where the whole “shutting down” comes from. I stuck to it for years and got really go about it. But eventually it stopped working. As things got harder, you started to see it. At that point I had become so good as it that I didn’t know how not to do it anymore. I remember being on the couch at Dr.Evers and you asking me to please talk to you. To tell you what I was thinking. Why I did whatever the hell I did. You were practically pleading with me to say something. I was crying because I couldn’t hold it back anymore but I couldn’t speak. I could feel the words on the tip on my tounge. Part of me wanted them to come out but I just could not bring myself. I remember sitting there crying and hearing everything I wanted to say running through my head but couldn’t make my mouth move. We’d be in that position many more times after that just as before. I wanted to change so I did. I got better about talking. Not great but better. I started to open myself up and it was good. It was and still is only about the surface stuff but considering where I was it was a hell of a big improvement. Yet, I was still good at hiding the deeper stuff. Fast forward to Oak Knoll. I hate admitting it because it makes me weak but I have never felt so fucking useless. I was unhappy beyond belief but I remember Abuelita said that I shouldn’t make any trouble for you because you found someone who treasured you, a good man and that I better not try to do anything to ruin it. I mean I wanted to you to be happy. Despite it not sometimes being evident I knew you had been alone and that you did deserve someone who adored you the way you adored Pipsqueak and I. The last thing I wanted was to make you worry but of course in classic fashion I did. Each time you had to go a fight a battle for me. I felt I didn’t deserve any help. I wasn’t worth helping. I wasn’t cut out for any of this.  No matter what was a victory, it was overshadowed by the thought that I did it by luck. One step forward, three steps back. I screwed up so much that things I did right would be consumed by past mistakes. Maybe it was better to give up if I couldn’t get anything right anyway. I wouldn’t amount to anything. I wasn’t smart enough, I wasn’t athletic enough, I wasn’t able to be organized enough, I wasn’t outspoken enough, I wasn’t tall enough, I wasn’t clever enough, I wasn’t pretty enough, I wasn’t competitive enough, I wasn’t good enough and never would be. I was tired of feeling inadequate. I didn’t want to be a failure. It was frustrating because I had come this far and for what? To be told I didn’t quite make the mark. Thats when, what I later learned were panic attacks really started. I guess had them in middle school a few times but they were not this bad. It started during tests. I still remember the first time I really got a true one. It was during a math test. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing and felt an unreal amount of pressure because if I didn’t do well it would effect me forever. My heart started to race. I thought I was going to die it was beating so fast. I didn’t know what was happening to me. Everything around me started to melt. It felt like it was the end of the world. Every little sound became so loud it hurt. It got harder to breathe, I felt as if I was choking. I had no idea what was happening. It was so scary. I just got out of there as fast as possible. They started to happen more during school. I got them when I was alone and started to worry about my life and my future. Anytime I got too stressed out about anything or worry I would begin to feel that heaviness in my chest. So instead of asking you for help or want to make you or anyone worry I didn’t say anything. I started to not care about as much as I could in order to not feel stress. Obviously this is a terrible coping method as I neglected anything I felt would cause me too much stress. I’d rather have people think I was lazy then tell anyone what was experiencing. While this method did work it wasn’t perfect. I did that for two years. I cried more during those two years than I had in my entire life I’m pretty sure. I would go to the bathroom at school and cry. I would go to bed crying clinging onto Mocha. I somehow made it though. I was also really good at hiding it. I bet you didn’t know I felt this way during that time or at least to the extent I did. I was good at covering it up. I smiled at all the right times. I laughed. To tell you the truth other then the occasional squabble, I was happy at home. I enjoyed being with the family. I loved being home. Home was safe. There were times thing were good, but there were times things were bad. When I found out I wouldn’t have to go back to that place the panic attacks became almost nonexistent. I found hope that things would change and be good. Fast forward to going to Pomfret. I needed the change of view. Being away from the place I associated bad things with was good. I know you may have different thoughts about it but personally I think this was good. I have never been happier. I know you all could have been happier considering my fall mid term grades and frankly I needed that reality check but God I was happy. I hadn’t had friends in years. I was on my own. I was getting up and doing shit for myself. While there was room for improvement I was doing it. The biggest problem was that coping method I mentioned earlier. Teaching yourself not to care is not a good thing. The environment I was/am in was good. There was no need for that. So basically I had to try and reteach myself not to do that as it was doing more harm then good now. I shouldn’t have taught myself how to do that but I had to deal with that. I still am. I’ve spent this year fighting it. Its gonna be hard. But with this fight I found hope. I was actually excited for applying to college next year. I saw possiblities. I could maybe actually do this. The beginning of spring term i was amped.  I had found that spirit that I had lost 3 years ago. The fire was lit and I was amped. I took my meds, I got my work done, I went to class, I did practice, I was doing well. My grades were good. I had a new advisor. You guys were basically out of the loop. All you knew were the things I told you which was fine. No more calls in the middle of the day flipping out at me. You guys were at a distance. It felt good. I felt like I was becoming truly independent. But like I’ve learned when I go a while without messing up, its only a matter of time before I do. And of course it happened. The problem was, I think, that i wasn’t used to doing all of that so on task. It took a lot of effort. It was hard and I think I burned myself out. I got sloppy and with that mistakes happen. Now you all know about the incident with my homework. I’ve screwed up a lot in my life but never badly at school, not this badly. I have also never been so terrified. Things were going to well. Things were looking up and now all that I was working for could come crashing down. The night I went back to my room after finding out. I cried myself to sleep terrified about what would happen.It didn’t feel real.  I walked out of that meeting with my advisor and teacher about the situation in tears. I went back to my room and it all came to me at once. I screwed everything I was working toward up. Hell no good college was gonna take someone who had that on their record. And what were you guys gonna say. Everything was going so well. I might have just fucked up my future. I didn’t want to tell you. You and G both are dealing with your own shit. Serious shit. The last thing you needed to deal with was my dumbass that screwed up something so simple. I would tell you once I solved the problem because I didn’t want to worry. I completely skipped lacrosse practice that day and just sat on my floor and cried. That familiar heavy feeling in my chest came back soon after and wouldn’t stop. I felt like I was dying. I thought it would never end. I couldn’t breath. I wanted it to stop. I knew of only one way to make it stop other than wait for it to pass. Pain. One time when it was happening I was tying to crawl to my bed to the bathroom at night. When I went to lean on the bathtub to stand up my hand went straight on a razor that was on the edge of the tub. it was dark so I didn’t see it there but it hurt like hell. I almost scream it hurt so bad. But with that it the panic attack stopped. I needed it to stop this time. I couldn’t and didn’t want to wait for it to end. Theres still two small scars on my wrist from bringing myself back. I have never done that before. I’m not proud of it. I usually would have just let it pass but I was so overwhelmed at that point I couldn’t deal with it. But I felt better once I could breath normally. I just lay in my bed and kept crying and ended up falling asleep for a few hours. Since then the fire I had was gone. I haven’t really been able to get anything together since then. I keep dwelling on past things. Some days are better than others but I can’t find that fire I had before. Everything started to slip, like and ice cream that is melting and I’m desperately trying to hold it together. I know we are at the end of this school year and theres nothing that I can do. I might have just fucked up this year but I learned that in theory I can do it. I just gotta figure out how again. But the answer to your one of your questions earlier ma, am I on drugs? No I am not. The only drug I’m on I’ve been on for years and you’ve called and texted yelling at me to take when I forget. The answer to you other question: “whats wrong with me?”Well to put it frankly, I have no idea. Which is why I wrote this. I don’t really know if this will help. It seems like when I open up about shit like this I get yelled at or you worry about me I fear I might end up in a psych ward. Typically the later but I digress. I really hope you don’t put me on suicide watch or something after you read this, whenever you do. Because that not whats going on here. The self loathing and beating myself up has been going on forever. Its so normal now to me its not that big a deal. I just hope maybe this will give you a little insight to what was going through my head all these years. Theres probably a lot more I could say regarding my feelings but I’m getting tired of typing all this. Anyway I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I am a work in progress. I always will be. I don’t deserve how patient and loving you are to me. I love you both so much. And of course Pipsqueak and Mocha and Stumpy and Doggie too. Thank you for reading. <3

-F.

[the-hyperactive-mind]

First Thoughts

So, I’m giving this whole blog thing a try. I never thought I would but yet here I am, and I am doing. Probably in part because I am procrastinating studying for finals, but oh well. Currently I am doing my final project for Psych on Depression. I know, kind of a sad topic. Maybe it is because I’m feeling one of those lows that is all too familiar, that now I keep thinking I have depression. No I don’t have it. As I have learned depression is something that sorta looms over you to the point you have no control over it. The feeling I have is not that. It has come and gone most of my life but typically a result of external stimuli. Which for those of you who don’t know tends to happen quite frequently with people with ADHD and it something I have struggled with all my life. This tends to happen especially when mistakes concerning your lack of attention to detail, impulsivity, disorganization or whatever happens. Especially when things are going really good and you actually feel like your making progress then, BOOM! All that hard work just falls apart in front of you. Its part of life in general, and yeah all that matters is that you pick yourself up and try again. Sometimes it is hard. I know that I can do great things. I know that I am fully capable. There is no real question of my natural abilities. But I am my own worst critic and for that there is no cure. It is actually worse when there are people who you actually want to make proud. When I screw up the failure and frustration is far worse. In the end of the day, what I and anybody with or without ADHD needs to remember is that we must take everyday one step at a time. There will be progress and failure and there is beauty and a lesson in each of them. Just pick and keep going. On that note, I am going to stop procrastinating and get back to work. 

-Wolfie