What It's REALLY like to Live with ADHD

Remember when you were a kid, and you would get on the merry-go-round at the local playground? You know the one, rusted metal, squeaky, and you had to run as fast as you could, then jump on? What fun that was, we were excited and scared at the same time, laughing and screaming, "Faster, Faster!" We spun and whirled, our heads thrown back, getting dizzy and nauseous and amazed at the spinning clouds whisking by.

Living with ADHD is like that. The difference is that the merry-go-round is in my head, and the clouds are the people, places, and things I recognize but don't seem to be able to get in the right order, they are moving too fast to catch, in my thoughts anyway. It takes me places that I have never been, like traveling only I don't actually go anywhere. At least that is how it may seem to you. I am not a kid on a merry-go-round, I am not even a kid anymore. I am 35 years old and in the grand scheme of things, I am a blip on the map. There are people in this world that have illnesses far worse than anything I live with, and they deserve your compassion, and empathy. I do not, nor do I want it. That is not the reason that I decided to write this essay.

Let me tell you about my desk. It is a rather nice desk, I think, good deal, fits in the corner well, holds all the equipment and 'stuff' that a desk is supposed to do, it was even a great deal. I paid only $40.00 on clearance, a floor model with a teeny tiny chip in the keyboard drawer. There is only one thing about my desk that is unique, it catches my brain vomit and manages to hold it all until the time when I can sort it out. Brain vomit? Strange phrase to use, so descriptive yet disgusting, don't you think so? What a great desk though. I can find things on my desk, things I know I am looking for but may not be looking for at that moment. Right now, this very minute, there are things on my desk that you do not find on a desk as a rule. I have the usual things, of course, stapler, calculator, printer, ashtray (I smoke), pens, pencils, and markers in a holder, recordable CD-ROMs, web-cam, microphone, modem, and my monitor. There are speakers and a little decorative candle holder and photo album. Pretty dull, right?
Here is the brain vomit; piles of papers that have no relation to each other or any use at all, a small Easter basket that holds cards, stones, money, staples, and anything else I toss in during a frenzied clean sprint across the desktop. It happens every couple of weeks; I believe it is because it takes that long to completely lose sight of the wood. There is a teddy bear, turquoise, that says "turquoise gives you creativity." He hasn't said a word to me though. That is most likely a good thing, after all, I am not mentally ill, I just have ADHD. There are hair ties and bobby pins, a steak knife, nail buffer, a crap basket (this is entirely different than the Easter basket; it only holds crap, not one useful thing in it for my desk area or any of my work. I have two open books, one is my textbook for my other class, and the other is a book I have been trying to read, but it just isn't that stimulating. I have brightly colored post-it notes, they are all over the place to remind me of things that I will forget to do. They multiply like rabbits when I am not looking. This is only my desk, wait until you hear about other areas of interest and seeming disorderly piles scattered about my life, they are not limited to my home or car, they are everywhere I go and they help me to be a part of your world, most of the time anyway.
Life with ADHD is never dull, but it is a struggle. Besides the tiny portion view of what it is like inside of my head, as reflected by the chaos of my desk, I also am raising a child with ADHD, and we crash into each other a lot. My son, Anthony, is a sweet, loving, helpful little boy of seven. He has mild to moderate ADHD and other medical problems that are not relevant to our shared ADHD issues. We yell, growl, and get really frustrated with each other sometimes. Because ADHD can interfere with sensory perceptions, it is hard for us to connect and comfort each other. I need to not be touched to concentrate, and he needs to be really close to a person to concentrate, touching them in some way or he fidgets like his foot is on fire. Since he is a little boy, and I am supposed to be the grownup, I have the harder task of trying to work with this without hurting his feelings.
His 'ADHD vomit' happens EVERYWHERE; the yard, his room, the bathroom, just all over the place. It makes me crazy, disorder must be organized, like my desk. It cannot spread like weeds throughout the house, then we have no calm space when we need it. Life in our house is an adventure, even comical at times. Never easy, though. Christina keeps us in check, she is my 16 yr old daughter. I don't know what will happen when she leaves for college next year. I make both of them crazy sometimes, I have a schedule but it has nothing to do with time. They hate it when I forget things. Anthony gets really frustrated and acts out, Christina argues with me, she doesn't understand ADHD at all, and doesn't want to either. It irritates her enough that I can rearrange the whole house, on a regular basis, but forgets to cook dinner or do laundry.
We are a family though, the 3 musketeers against the world, and we love each other. That is what matters, not our various personality conflicts and health issues. We are real people; just like everyone else, and we live with ADHD. ADHD does not live for us or with us. It does not define who we are, or our morality, it is just a different drummer.