I've been weird my entire life. I know because lots of people have told me. When I asked them why they thought that I was weird, they could only try to reassure me that it was "in a good way": not really helpful, always confusing.
A few years ago, I learned that I have Adult ADD. Ah, now that explains some things. My brain doesn't work like everyone else's. Newsflash! I think differently. I haven't quite worked out all of the subtle nuances yet, but I've had enough people either make inaccurate assumptions about what I was thinking (I swear I'm almost never thinking what you believe me to be)or just look at me strangely when I took a topic in a direction they'd have never thought to go, to know that I do indeed, think differently.
People often struggle with the idea of an AD(H)D diagnosis because doctors haven't quite figured out where the trip wire is located inside the brain, so some folks assume there isn't one, but there is. You can trust me on this. We hear a lot about the people who don't want to accept this disorder as being real in children. It's not a lot better for adults. I told someone once that I had ADD, and she said, "don't all moms?"
Dear over worked mothers, you do not have ADD just because you spaced that Johny had a doctor's appointment this afternoon. ADD and ADHD (one is hyper but none of the tired and forgetful people ever try to claim the H) are so much richer and deeper and intense than mere forgetfulness or having trouble balancing too many obligations. It is a mental disorder, and I use the term disorder only because I'm certain that some of the little circuits and connectors inside the brain are literally out of order. Otherwise, I'd think of some other term to use that didn't sound so much like a major disability, because personally, I kinda like it. Most ADD people do once they get counselling or medication to help them manage.
I'm gonna give a shout out to my OCD and bi-polar peeps, right quick, because they are here beside me, riding in my boat. We are the butcher, baker, and candlestick maker of mental disorders. It's a very sanitary boat that happens to be lost. It alternates between being scary fun and just plain scary, and everybody wants to claim that a seat belongs to them. There are pirates and ninjas in our boat, too. I'm letting them come aboard because they belong with us in the common mind's fantasy land where action, adventure, excitement, and viable excuses replace the reality of fear, pain, addiction, and sometimes death.
Basically what I'm trying to say is, if you don't really have a mental disorder, please shut the hell up. You're making life harder for those of us who do by essentially negating the existence of what can potentially be a serious mental malfunction. M'kay? Thanks.
And yeah, it's not all bad, having AD(H)D. It does come with it's share of problems (a lot of us have trouble holding onto relationships and jobs), but there are some great perks, too. Most of us are wildly creative, and I for one, don't really mind being crazy if it means that I can blow your mind with mine.
I've learned a great deal about both the bad and the good since I got my diagnosis, yet, I still spend an awful lot of time trying to figure out why I do some of the unusual things I do. There are things about my character that can't be explained with AD(H)D. These "things" had bothered me for a long time. Then, yesterday, I had a revelation.
I was an undiagnosed special needs child.
It never occurred to me before and I don't really like the sound of it, but there's no way around that reality. I wonder how many other special needs people don't know they're short bus special. I bet a lot of us are looking around at the outside world thinking you guys are the ones who are messed up. *cough cough*
Anyway, I haven't had a lot of time to think it through, but I do know one thing. When a person spends the majority of their life being misunderstood; being told that they never do anything right, are unreliable, weird (even in a good way), or are told any other number of negative things that frustrated individuals might say when the child/person they are dealing with doesn't make any sense to them, well, a lifetime of that is gonna mess a body up. So, there ya go.
For those of you who know me personally, please be patient while I figure this crap out and decide what, if anything, I want to do about it. In the meantime, I will continue to amuse you with my charm and wit, like always. Besides, being patient with me isn't really something that's new to you, anyway, so it shouldn't be a problem. In fact, I bet you won't even notice. Hmm. Nevermind, then. Carry on.
Chicken Fried Vogue
For 15 years and most of her adult life, Bubblez lived in the suburbs of a major metropolitan city. She enjoyed taking her children to museums, parks, and dates at Starbucks. Then Bubblez moved to the country and her En Vogue attitude got chicken fried. Her yard is a park where the neighbor's rooster won't stop crowing, Starbucks is almost an hour away, and her large collection of fancy shoes is worthless. But, living in the acres of green has presented more opportunities for living "green" as Bubblez travels the path toward self-sufficiency (and bitches ((and prays)) along the way).