I started painting because it soothed the screaming pain in the months after Damon's death. Painting continues to be an outlet for me and, five years after first putting brush to canvas, I'm really beginning to love what I create. I love that almost all of my materials are sourced from resale shops, broken down furniture, and pallets. I love that my "canvases" come with their own stories and that they tell me what they will be in their second life. It feels right and my work is speaking to people. I believe, now more than ever, that art speaks on a very individual level to each person. It speaks to them in their own language and being able to pour myself into a piece that speaks to someone's soul is one of the most healing things I've ever done.
But, as it always is, my particular brand of healing is very messy. There are regularly paint tubes and drying canvases scattered over various surfaces in our home. No one ever complains but clutter makes me a little (a lot) crazy so when I saw a brand new easel for sale on one of my cruises through a local resale shop my desire to keep my house clean combined with my recent success in selling my pieces made me feel justified in snatching it up.
I got home and proudly showed my husband (I always like to show off my "trash to treasure" finds and make him guess how little I spent). I plopped down in the sunroom and went to work putting the thing together. I'm pretty sure the instructions were in hieroglyphics (I seriously wish I had kept them so you could see how unbelievably vague they were). After dismantling the thing twice because I had put pieces on backward I sat on the floor in front of my finished easel and cried. I called my husband into the room and did a Vana White style "look what I did!" He grinned and hugged me "Wow babe!! That's awesome! You didn't even need my help."
Um, Jodie, you are a grown woman. You have multiple degrees. You paint cool stuff. You manage the schedules of your entire family. You're kind of a badass (I know, right?!). Why are we reading about an easel?
Because three weeks ago I couldn't have done it.
Well, maybe I could have but I would have probably thrown something in the process. I would have stomped off halfway through, feeling like I was going to explode, and had to return to it the next day and try again. But what I probably would have done was call my eternally patient husband to finish it the first time I got stuck.
Because I have ADHD.
Two and a half weeks ago I sat in my Dr.'s office with trembling hands on the verge of a panic attack and told him I needed help. I've known about my ADHD since I was pretty young but somehow, while I developed relatively healthy relationships with my other mental health diagnoses, this is one that I wouldn't confront. I honestly think I deeply internalized the notion that ADHD and ADD are not "real." I had heard so much about "housewives" abusing Ritalin and Adderall because they are too stressed and overscheduled. I told myself that I've been pretty damn successful; I couldn't possibly have ADHD for real...
But I do.
And it's real.
I look back now at my life and wish with everything I have that I had done something about it sooner. So much makes sense in the light of this information.
ADAD is definitely not what I thought it was. It isn't how it's perceived or described in popular culture. The best way I can describe some of what it feels like is this:
It's like the inside of my head is a snow globe. Instead of little white flakes that float around if I'm "rattled" I have every single worry, fear, memory, piece of knowledge, random thing I notice, sound, song I just heard, etc. spinning around the inside of my head all of the time. Each individual thing has its own trajectory and they can randomly wink out of existence then reappear in a new location on a new trajectory. For me to interact with the world outside of my head I have to see and hear through this cacophony in my head. I can't possibly explain the extraordinary effort it takes to do this constantly. It's exhausting.
Two and a half weeks ago I took my first dose of ADHD medication and the cacophony stopped. For the first time in my whole life, I felt such indescribable relief.
I can sit and play cars with my Rainbow baby without feeling like I'm going to crawl out of my skin. I can focus on my husband's excited descriptions of his video game conquests and not space out 50 times in 5 minutes. I can be patient. I can sit at my desk and work on the same thing for an entire freaking DAY.
I can spend 45 minutes following hieroglyphic instructions to put an easel together.
I saw my doctor today and he asked me how the meds are working. I sat there gaping at him because I just couldn't possibly explain how completely life-changing those little pills are. Eventually, I managed something along the lines of "It's f***ing unbelievable." He laughed and said "Good, then we won't change anything."
I think we've all heard so very much about how these disorders are "made up" or arguments about how people "just want to medicate difficult kids." I am first in line to argue that our current school system is not healthy for kids and that they shouldn't have to (or be able to) sit in a desk for a whole damn day. I will also fervently argue that everyone gets restless and everyone has trouble focusing sometimes. I used all of these arguments on myself, for years. I have a fantastic relationship with my doctor. He's an exceptional physician who I trust and I was still terrified to talk to him about this.
Why?
Because I had bought into the lie that I can't be both smart and accomplished and have ADHD. Well, guess what? I'm smart and accomplished and have ADAD. Medication has changed my life.
Caution is important and warranted but as I've argued so many times; If you or child had insulin dependent diabetes would you hesitate for a second to make sure you or your child received this medication? No. What if you or your child has dopamine and/or norepinephrine deficiency (the primary neurotransmitters involved in ADAD)?
I grew up thinking I was stupid. I really really did. Now that I know so much more about ADHD what I've learned is that I'm not stupid; I was battling through a deficiency that most of the people around me didn't have. Things that seemed easy to them took monumental energy and a great deal more time for me because I was learning through the maelstrom in my own head.
Now, I feel like I can do anything. I've trained with a massive weight belt around my waist and now I get to run the race free of that anchor.
Easels are just the beginning.
Until next time.
No comments:
Post a Comment