I can A.D.D

I love men... pardon me if this is blatant sexism, but many of the males I know, thanks to their chromosomal make-up, just tell it like it is.  They don't sit around wondering how it will all play out. They just tell the truth, like it or leave it.  Not to say this applies to all men, but it certainly applies to the one I am about to describe...

When I was in college, I had an English professor say to me, "I see a lot of myself in your writing."  Of course, I was elated, yet all the while slightly confused because he had just scored my paper a less-than-breathtaking D.  Then he went on, "Yes, and I have ADHD and dyslexia..."  SLAM.  There it was.  My darling student, your writing leaves a lot to be desired... It sucks.  Now, he didn't say that last part, but he may as well have.  Naturally, I took what he said, swallowed the massive golf ball in my throat (after all, it looked like literary criticism just might not be my thing... and his suggestion to change majors confirmed that), and finished the meeting we were having to correct my D paper.  Then, like any self-respecting individual, I ran to my dorm room and cried.  Following a few days of wallowing, I did what I always do:  I took the bull by the horns.  I changed my major, and met with a learning disability specialist at my college.  She basically told me that having ADD was a very real possibility, but my compensatory skills were so strong that she didn't see need for me to do anything about it unless I so desired.  I considered medication, but then other things (that are not worth a single sentence of my blog) got in the way, and I had worse/bigger things to deal with. 

Thanks to those "compensatory skills," I finished my undergrad in Elementary Education (where, according to aforementioned English Professor, "lots of LD students find success...") and completed a minor in French.  A year later I got married, and 4 months later I was back in school getting my Master's.  The glorious thing about not having kids, working, and getting a Master's all at the same time is that you CAN stay up all night to get things done.  This was a very good thing for me seeing as I am the queen procrastinator.  I'm one of those people who literally MUST wait until the last minute.  Problem is, I wait until the last minute, and then I produce some pretty nice work. Graduated with the MEd having a not-so-shabby 3.9.  All the while I was a teacher, director of youth ministry, and graduate student.  We won't talk about my housekeeping skills though.  There is never enough pressure to complete tasks in that area of my life!

At present, we all know what I am pursuing: Insanity.  No, that's just what some people think... but we'll just call it what it is.  My EdD.  Having 2 kids and a full-time job lands my house in disarray.  This is no surprise to anyone, but for some reason, I feel like mine is worse than everyone else's.  You won't find me on an episode of "Clean House" or anything... but you might find me on the "Help-me! I-cannot-finish-what-I-start-and-I-procrastinate-like-it-is-my-job!" show.  Granted, I can compensate for my inability to focus for a longer period of time than a fruit fly would focus, but it is exhausting.

 So, I decided to get myself evaluated.  I spent an hour of my Saturday with a Psychiatrist.  I answered all the questions, I filled out the inventory.  And guess what? I have A.D.D.  Not the kind of A.D.D that people think they have when they can't get things done occasionally; no, I have the kind that prevents people from getting things done every minute of every day.  I was that kid who always made stupid mistakes in algebra.  I was that kid who messed around with her binder for half of the testing time, and then scribbled down some vague answers for the second half.  I was the kid who couldn't stay organized.  I was the kid who "wasn't listening."  And then I became the adult who worked her butt off to lose those labels, but still gets slammed from time to time for taking too long to do things; or forgetting to show up to a meeting because it is on the calendar but I didn't look at the calendar; or because no one in the house has clean underwear (or it isn't folded, so no one can find it, nor can they distinguish the clean piles from the dirty ones).  But I also figured out along the way how to take these hurdles in stride, and keep moving forward (even if I am doing eighteen other unrelated things at the same time).

I bet you're wondering... since I found out I have A.D.D, what will I do?  Just keep on compensating?  No my friends, no.  I am taking the road yet to be traveled... Ritalin Lane :)