AD/HD and the World Upside Down

My world has been upside down and barely tolerable. These circumstances wreak havoc on a person like me, who suffers terribly with severe AD/HD. I have shut down, I have not been able to muster the stamina I need for the long haul for staying attentive to the world as it spins “out of control” around me. I have not returned phone calls or emails of those I consider dear friends in months, not even a text message to let them know I am okay. I can’t make sense of anything because I am too afraid to try, I am being completely swallowed by the overwhelming energy it takes me just to wake up in the morning and feign a smile only while trying to convince myself that everything will be alright.

I cleverly lie to myself a lot, it is my well designed coping mechanism I use most successfully , and it works well for me but fails when I try to use it on my mother. She knows me better than I know myself.
I have taken myself off the medication my doctor wanted me to take; I took Strattera religiously for three years only to stop cold turkey in May of 09. I am even more ashamed to say I haven’t been to see my doctor in over a year for fear that she will put me on a new medication to help me deal with my “AD/HD”. I was on Strattera at a very high dose and while it did help me greatly I hated having to be on it. I hated the feeling of not being “all there”, like I was in a distant tunnel deep within myself looking out of unfamiliar eyes and disconnected at my emotional core with the world that surrounded me.

This feeling caused me to relate to my students I work with on a new level. As an art teacher I find the most success with my students who are ADD or AD/HD, ask the music teacher and he will tell you the same thing. There is something about music and art that allows these children to engage with their inner core. This connection is intriguing to me and has become an area I read about extensively because of the interest I have in Art Therapy and because of my interest in knowing and understanding myself better.

The worse part of my job is seeing my highly artistic/musically inclined student come to art for the first time “doped” up on a new medication. This is often preceded by the classroom teacher informing me that that my art class will be so much better now that the “hellion” is “on medications” and she gleefully reports that her classroom is manageable and she can actually teach without having to deal with his disruptions. Really? Are you serious, because that hellion never posed a problem in art or music? That hellion loved art and music.

Now the child who wears the label of being the “disruptive or inattentive hellion” is sitting at his art table with a glazed over lifeless expression in his eyes. His artwork which he was once connected with on an emotional and highly personal level has become as dull and as lifeless as his expression- he now creates his art in an almost systematic way. The music teacher will usually come to me and say how this child is now singing and fingering his instruments in the same way I describe him to be producing his artwork. A piece of his soul is being heavily masked by the effects of some mind altering drug...and it breaks my heart.

But it shouldn’t be a trouble to me because he is now paying attention in class and receiving passing scores on those infamous and rigorous standardized tests that schools systems and their classroom teachers are held accountable for by the government. Art and music are inconsequential in the grand scheme of the educational system. Just fluff and fun not anything substantial and it is far more important for our school systems to teach to the tests. Didn’t you know this?

I am not only an art educator but a working freelance and fine artist, who produces a totally different body of work when medicated than I do when not medicated. My work is structured and boring, to the point of being tired when I am on my Strattera, and when I am off my medications my art becomes an intrinsic tool for communicating my emotional core…communicating the soul of my being. My art becomes alive with the essence of me.

I have a musician friend who is very much in the same boat as me in terms of his ADD. When he is on his medication his approach to his music is systematic and exact almost to the point of being redundant and monotonous, he barely cracks a smile when he is on the stage performing and can become so entirely serious that it makes his performance seem awkward, but when he is off of his medication he essentially becomes his music and together with his instrument he almost transforms into the music he is playing, he becomes alive and jovial, he becomes his music and his music becomes him.

When I am not on my meds other areas of my life outside of my artistic pursuits fall apart, especially my “significant” relationships. I struggle to find the balance and coherence I need to formulate healthy intimate relationships. I can focus on the things I really love (like my art) but everything else slides way off onto the backburner. Boyfriends I have had usually find themselves there. People loved being my roommate in college and graduate school because they said it “felt like I was never there.” I spent most my time working on my art behind a closed door and I’d forget about everything else…including eating.

This trait of my AD/HD destroyed many of my relationships. Boyfriends would comment always, that they felt like I didn’t care about them or that they felt I favored my art over them (actually there are probably a few in there where I did favor my art over them), but needless to say I have had boyfriends tell me they have never felt so “lonely” in a relationship as they did with me. I am struggling to this day with this aspect of me and still find myself hoping and wishing that I can find someone who can truly and totally understand me and love me for me and not take my actions or lack there-of personally.

It is this trait of AD/HD that makes other see us who suffer from it as being “self-centered”. Really I am not self-centered, it is just that when I am in hyper-focus nothing else is relevant to me, and I mean nothing. The world around me could be completely falling apart and I wouldn’t notice right away. I need time to process it all. I don’t notice my relationships are failing until it is too late. I am at a loss when it comes to seeing outside my focus.

When my mother had been diagnosed with Cancer she had called me at college to tell me. It was easier for me to hang up the phone than it was to deal with that issue in “real-time”. It took me awhile to process the weight of that and when I finally did, I became aware of the fact I had hung up on my mother during a moment where she needed the condolence of her only daughter more than anything in the world. I have never felt more horrible than at that moment when I processed all of that. I fell apart so totally that I have never forgiven myself for what I did to my mother or the horrible things I did to myself to deal with all of my guilt and shame.

Working with children on a daily basis has allowed me to connect with them on their level and I can instantly pick out the children who are “like me”. The old adage that it “takes one to know one” rings loud and clear. My parents chose not to medicate me as a child and instead spent a lot of time working with me and helping me learn coping strategies for “focusing”. I was lucky to have a “stay at home mom” who was a teacher. She spent hours with me after school going over the things I should have been learning about while I was in school. The one-on- one tutoring my mother gave me, helped immensely. She made it fun for me, which helped me focus on what I should be learning and always she managed to connect it back to art or writing, two things I loved very much and could focus on.

My mother used interdisciplinary lessons that utilized art, writing, and music, the very things I loved and could endlessly keep me engaged- often times I would be in the infamous “hyper-focus” mode those of us with ADD or AD/HD are so known for. My mother used my weakness and turned it into a positive strength. I think about this and how wonderful it was and how the modern classroom should employ these techniques but aren’t. I also think how nice it would be if every AD/HD child had a mother like mine. I know teachers, who do try, and I try, but it is exhausting simply because the classroom size in the public education setting is “overloaded”. A child like me is simply just lost in the crowd, in fact in today’s classroom any child is simply “lost”- just another face in the crowd. Class sizes are only going to get larger which has me considering making the switch to private school or just jumping ship now and getting my Doctorate so I can research this topic more.

This also is the time of year that causes me a lot of grief, as the teachers are getting their class lists for next year and when they find out they have a “certain” child known for their inattentiveness or hyper activity they start complaining about how that child is going to make their upcoming school year a “living hell.” Before the principals make the lists final, some teachers even start “bartering” their children with one another. “I’ll take three of yours if you take this one.” Believe me, it happens all the time. Some principals allow it, some do not, but on the whole it happens. Then when the list are made public and the parents find out who is in what class, they start their bribing efforts to get their child or “said” child removed from “that” class. This is the time of year I would not want to be a principal and this is the time of year that has me happy I am no longer the “said labeled child” nobody wants in the classroom.

I was not a badly behaved child, I was actually really shy. I was a tomboy and still am today, boys are far easier to get along with than girls. I had (still do have) the hardest time with eye contact when speaking to people. I remember a softball coach of mine in college got so upset with me always looking down that he grabbed my face and forced me to look at him when he spoke to me. I will never forget that to this day and still think that incident contributed to my preference in emailing and texting people over actually having to speak with them face to face or over the phone. Having to respond to someone in “real” time often makes me feel as though I am drowning in the ocean.

The biggest problem I deal with as an adult is my impatience. It is my impatience that contributes wholly to my impulsive behavior and my blurting. It is the root to all my evil. Really it is. I get easily agitated when I am impatient and I say things I shouldn’t and I know I shouldn’t but they still come out of my mouth anyways. I become highly emotional and in this state I really have no control over any action that happens, try as I might.

Acting on impulse and blurting out are still troublesome. Sometimes things come out of my mouth before I even have had the chance to think about them. This actually wasn’t too much of a problem for me growing up, on the account of my shyness, only now as an adult, where I am forced out my “shy shell” it does become a problem. When I am overwhelmed and feeling like I am drowning in the situations of my life, I sometimes say things I shouldn’t say out loud.

I compensate for this by sending emails because it is easier to do it that way than saying it in “real time” and face to face. When I have something to say to a colleague or my boss, I simply email them, it is safer this way. I really have to force myself to think before I speak when I am dealing with “higher powers” or colleagues I have at work. I am less apt to do so when in the company of friends and “familiars” who have for the most part figured me out and know not to take the things I say personally.

I seem to have gone off on a tangent again so I will conclude this here and now as more often than not I can write without ending! I'm long winded you know, having to make up for all the things I don't say in "real time" ;)

~adios for now

Cheese and Wine; Afflictions of an AD/HD Mind

Like cheese and wine, children need time to develop
©2007 L.Warren

“One, two, three, four, I think I can make it to one hundred this time, five, six, seven, I hope he’ll notice how hard I am trying to pay attention. Eight, nine, ten, I am sitting on my hands so I won’t fidget, eleven, twelve, thirteen, I have my feet wrapped around my chair legs so I won’t tap my toes. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, my mom will be so proud of me today, seven, I miss my dog, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, I’m…….”

Lyndsey, Lyndsey, earth to Lyndsey, can you tell the class how I arrived at this answer for the multiplication problem on the board?” Mr. Brooker’s voice entirely shattered the concentration effort I was so completely focused on. I looked blankly at the blackboard, having no clue that we were even in the midst of a multiplication lesson. Panic, fear, and the crippling grip of being totally inescapably overwhelmed stunted any attempt I would try to make to gain control of the situation I was in. I was doomed! I shutdown, I didn’t respond, I sat their looking dumbfounded and praying to God that everyone in the class would stop looking at me. At that moment all I wanted to do was disappear somewhere far away and cry. Mr. Brooker, as always, like so many of my other teachers, merely shook his head in disappointment and said, “Is there anyone who can explain it to us, perhaps someone who was paying attention?” The sarcasm in his tone cut my young soul in two.

I had told myself to keep my eyes on the teacher, to see if I could do so for one hundred seconds, that way he would surely see that I was truly paying attention. The problem was, I needed to concentrate so completely on the task that I didn’t even comprehend a darn thing Mr. Brooker was teaching. Instruction eluded me again, as it always did. This happened a lot during my schooling it happened a lot outside my schooling in fact the simple truth of the matter is it happened all the time.

This inescapable reality of mine left me bitter with resentment, left me feeling like I was stupid, a failure, left me feeling like I was different and left out from everybody else. Why couldn’t I get it, why couldn’t I understand and focus on what the teachers were teaching the class? How did everyone else do this? How did they manage? How come they were able to control their thoughts and feelings and stay focused? Why wasn’t I just like everybody else? A deep-seeded self-hatred began to take root a hatred that would become a large part of my early foundation, a hatred that would take all the energy I could muster- everything I had in me, to control and attempt to overcome much later in my life. A struggle that for the most part, was a silent struggle and no one around me, even those closest to me, would have any idea of what was truly going on within me. It hurt so much, to be so misunderstood, especially as a small child!

The very thing that troubled my childhood so terribly and still causes me anguish today, has a name and it is a name that causes teachers to roll their eyes when they get their class lists at the beginning of the year, saying things like, “good grief I have to have that child in my class! She can’t focus and he can’t sit still! My class is going to be hell this year because of “that” child!” It causes parents to react in denial at school conferences and make excuses for their child’s behavior and lack of attention, excuses that sometimes keeps their very child from getting the very help he or she needs to succeed in school. No one wants to be different and no parent wants to hear their child is different. It is a thing that is quickly “fixed” with strong medications often before any attempts are made to try and deal with it naturally-tragically this occurs at a young age. This horrible awful thing has a name, its Attention Deficit Disorder and a more extreme version of it is called Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. I have Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder Inattentive Type.

During my childhood the whole concept of AD/HD was relatively new and still virtually unheard of by the mainstream. Children like me were not understood and many teachers and parents were continually frustrated by us. I remember spending a great deal of time standing on the wall at recess because I had lost my “playtime” privileges because of bad behavior or my inattentiveness. I don’t even remember many of the malicious things I had done to merit the frequent wall visits all I remember is standing on the wall and watching the other children having fun. I remember an elementary math teacher of mine was so upset with my inattentiveness that she had me go sit in a dark storage room located behind her classroom, just so she didn’t have to deal with me-she even shut the door. Once in middle school I spent an entire month by myself eating my lunch on the stage that faced the cafeteria in front of all my peers while they ate their lunches, talk about being ostracized!

You are probably reading this and thinking that I must have been a hellion when I was a child, but that is not the case. In all actuality I was extremely shy, rarely made eye contact with anyone, and tried my best to not bring any attention to myself. In fact I spent so much time concentrating on not being noticed that I neglected the valuable instruction time. Group work was my favorite thing in the world, as it allowed me to blend in and take a back seat while the other kids did the work. Though I never took part in the oral presentations or the discussions, I was highly artistic and creative along with being a good writer so I was usually the one asked to make the posters and write the report once all the other students put the notes together. I excelled in art and English during my schooling and thoroughly enjoyed those subjects. Art allowed me to escape my reality and writing gave me a silent voice that easily flowed between the lines of my notebooks- a much needed release. I did get good grades in schools but they came at a high price. My parents sent me to tutors and programs like Sylvan Learning so I could get a "double dose" of instruction to make sure I made up for what I missed in school.

AD/HD made my childhood complicated and the complications it caused became the foundation I grew up on. Unfortunately it shaped the person I would become. Fortunately, it shaped the person I am today. I say fortunately because the very thing that drove me so mad throughout my life has also been the very thing that brings purpose and meaning to my life. I loved art before I could walk having grown up with a mother who was landscape and seascape painter in addition to being an educator. The mere act of creating brought a certain comfort to me that helped me cope with my AD/HD.

I continue to love art today because it is my escape from an everyday reality that often leaves me overwhelmed and anxiety ridden. Art allows me the freedom to experience fully, reflect freely, and represent my inner voice and feelings without fear. The act of being creative is incredibly healing and this is something I instantly connected with as a child. I am very shy in person and the truth is that even though I am open in my writing (another creative outlet for me) I probably wouldn’t go out of my way to speak to anyone I don’t really know in person. I find it easier to text and email friends than dealing with face-to-face conversations. I was asked recently why I decided to get a Masters in Art Education and go into teaching. My response was short, simple, and to the point, “It was because I hated school and I wanted to bring enjoyment to those who struggle today, like I once did!” AD/HD is where I found a love of art, a love for animals, and a love for working with children.

I love working with children because they are easy to talk to and so forgiving, not so unlike animals. The healing power of art is what led me to many discoveries about myself and human nature. Art helped me step outside of myself and become more accepting of myself and this is something I so desperately want the children I work with to experience! Art allows us to connect with our state of mind that is intensely conscious of both inner experience and of the prompting of the outer world. The creation of art is not based in fear or wariness of the world but in wonder and awareness of the potential to act and interact with the world.

Art gives us the courage to allow our anxieties to release themselves. Carl Rodgers spent many years studying creativity and during his studies he identified anxiety as a necessary component of the creative process-as the maker takes responsibility for formulating and working through a problem (1961). Anxiety is something I know all too well. Anxiety is often the bane of my existence and complicates my daily activities has been a devastating root of evil in my personal and romantic relationships. It is something I struggle to deal with continually.

Aside from art I found an affinity for animals especially dogs and horses because of my AD/HD. I connected with them instantly as a young child, never worried about what they thought of me, I could be me. Most kids, especially high school kids, wanted to “hang-out” and be “social”, but not me. I found my first job at a local riding stable when I was still in middle school and was working “under the table” usually in trade for riding lessons up through high school. I worked at the barn every morning before school and spent my whole weekend there. Mucking stalls, feeding, and riding and enjoying the quiet solitude I found amongst my equine friends. It was such a therapeutic experience and I became very close with many of the horses that were labeled “difficult” and my bond with them didn’t go unnoticed by the trainers there, who frequently allowed me to work these horses.

While working with these horses and the trainers I was taught many training techniques that I would find myself later modifying to use in my classroom with my own students-the human kind. During graduate school I began training “troubled horses” usually horses I found abused and broken at the local racetracks of MD and VA. Working with these horses also led me to discover that human emotion wasn’t so different from the emotions I found in my horses. I began to notice the signs of abuse and neglect in many of the children I worked with and I instantly felt that there was something I could do to make their lives better. That “something” was and will continue to be art!

Rogers, C.R. (1961) Toward a theory of creativity. In On becoming a person. New York: Houghton Mifflin