(apologies to Robert Earl Keen)
Over the past few years, I’ve written quite a bit about my ongoing battle with ADD. I’ve written about it not because I’m prone to oversharing, rather that I honestly believe that if my story can help one person make sense of their own experience and personal challenges, then what I’ve gone through hasn’t been for naught.
Over the years, I’ve been able to share my experiences with others dealing with similar challenges. I’m not going to hold forth on how I’ve changed lives because I don’t know that I’ve accomplished anything quite so dramatic. Still, there’s something about being able to translate the challenges you face in life in a way that addresses what someone else is dealing with that’s very reaffirming. I’ve tried to help others as I’ve been helped by so many along the way. I’ve heard- directly and indirectly- about friends and children of friends trying to come to grips with manifestations of ADD in their lives, and my heart breaks for them. Most adults possess the maturity to help them come to grips with being “different” and/or not being able to do things “normal” people take as a matter of course. I think it’s far more difficult for a child. Most children want nothing more than to fit in with their peers and to not stand out as “different.” Coming to grips with being not “disabled” but “differently abled” can be a tall order for a child under the best of circumstances.
I’m writing this in part because I’ve found myself increasingly struggling with my own ADD challenges of late. It’s taken an emotional toll, and though I’m fortunate to have a solid support group- a caring doctor, a compassionate counselor, good friends, and a wife who loves me- sometimes I tire of feeling “different.” I’m tired of struggling with things other people take for granted. Sometimes I just want to be “normal”…though I couldn’t begin to tell you what that means.
I can’t balance a checkbook to save myself. I can only fully engage in a argument or serious debate for a few short minutes before my mind goes blank, unable to hold any thoughts, much less organize them in a coherent manner. I could go on, because there’s a long list of challenges, things I assume other people accomplish as a matter of course while I struggle and stumble and often half-ass them.
After considerable discussions with Erin, I decided to undergo several hours of testing a few months ago. The experience only confirmed my diagnosis from a few years ago- Quelle surprise, I have ADD- but it provided my doctor the data he felt necessary in order to investigate medications. Most anyone who’s tried to get the right ADD medicine at the right dosage will tell you that it can be incredibly frustrating. Adderall left me feeling like I was sitting at a red light with one foot on the brake and another pressing the accelerator to the floor. Ritalin had much the same effect, although not nearly as dramatically. After playing with the dosage, I finally decided that I didn’t like feel edgy and tense- particularly in the morning. I’m not a patient driver under the best of circumstances, and once we ramped up the Ritalin dosage…let’s just say there are a few drivers out there convinced (not without jsutification) I’m an asshole.
After deciding Ritalin wasn’t for me, we went to Strattera, which, if it had any effect, was difficult to discern. Combine that with the fact that the minimum therapeutic dosage would cost me at least $237/month, and I quickly ended that experiment. Yes, we can afford it, but I can’t justify spending that much money on a medication that may or may not be effective. I honestly couldn’t tell, which is probably a good indication it wasn’t doing what we wanted it to accomplish.
Erin, being the medical professional and having a better perspective on these things than I do, suggested that we try Ritalin again, this time at the minimum therapeutic dose twice a day instead of the timed-release pill I’d taken once a day previously. That’s where we are now. There’s no way to know if this shot in the dark will find the mark, but it’s worth a try. Though I couldn’t handle the side effects of Ritalin in the timed-release pill, I did notice a significant difference and improvement in how I felt. I was more confident, more able to deal with day-to-day challenges, and less defensive and stressed about the challenges I face…but that confidence came at a price.
Lest anyone I’ve spoken with over the years be convinced that I have things under control, rest assured that you should immediately and completely disabuse yourself of that notion. I don’t know that ADD is something I will EVER gain the upper hand on…but I’m trying to figure out how best to manage it. It’s not going away and it’s unlikely to improve with the passage of time; perhaps I can figure out ways to overcome as much as possible under the circumstances.
I still find myself wishing I was “normal,” but I know that focusing on “normality,” however that might be defined, is to be chasing ghosts. I can console myself with the knowledge that some of the world’s most creative people were either diagnosed with ADD or exhibited undeniable symptoms. At least I have the comfort of knowing I’m in good company. Perhaps I can blame my creativity and artistic temperament on my ADD. If nothing else, it helps me feel better about myself…and Lord knows there can never be too much of that.
No, I don’t have things “figured out” or “under control” or whatever euphemism one may choose to employ. I’m still a very smart person who feels like a f——-g moron a good deal of the time. Before I begin to feel sorry for myself, though, a little perspective might be a good thing. I’m not dying of cancer. I don’t have an incurable disease. Relatively speaking, I don’t have something that can’t be managed at the very least…and so that’s the path I’ve chosen to travel.
As the songs says, the road goes on forever and the party never ends. Stay tuned….
