Written by “The ADHD Man,” Kelly Babcock
Here’s a problem I have. I know what ADHD is like, I know what experiencing it feels like.
And I try to tell people about that for two reasons.
First, I want those who don’t have the disorder to know what it’s like, so they can understand what we go through, be aware of the issues that the people in their lives with ADHD have to deal with.
And that’s important, not just for us, but for them as well. If you are unwilling to accept someone because you believe they are acting a certain way rather than understanding they have no other choice, you are missing the opportunity to engage in the acquaintance of ten to twenty percent of the population.
Your BFF may well have been among those you dismissed. Your loss, but also the world’s loss. We could use more happy people here on earth, right?
Second, and more important to me, is that I know people with ADHD often feel isolated until they discover there are others like them.
And how do they know that others are like them?
According to some of the comments on my blog and on social media, they might figure that out by reading what I write and feeling a resonance with the words.
For me, sometimes what I write starts sounding as repetitive as the jargon one hears when hockey players are being interviewed during the second intermission.
“Yeah, well, we just have to remember to play a full sixty minutes of hockey, put some pucks on the net, a defense is key and we need our offense to generate some traffic out front, give our shooters some chances …”
There’s a problem
For me, the things I say are things I mean. But they start to sound old and didactic, repetitive like I said before. (Great, now I’m repeating myself inside a single post.)
But listen, and imagine the passion I have in my voice when I say, “I know what you feel when you suddenly become aware that this insidious thing has foiled you once again. I know how close you are to tears when you thought you had it figured out and suddenly all you remember is feeling like you solved nuclear fusion, but not the fusion itself.”
And yes, I know that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you realize you screwed up and that nothing can change that and you have to start over again and there’s no time to waste feeling sorry for yourself but there’s also no place to put those feelings aside, so you have to start over, carry on, and carry your sorrow all at the same time.
Forgive me if I sound repetitive all over again, it’s just that the things I have to say don’t seem any less important to me than they did last week or last month or last year or even back in 2011 when I started writing this blog.
We have to play a full life, set some goals and try to make them, play defense and offense and try to remember which one we’re doing at any given moment, keep moving and be ready to capitalize on opportunities, and do it all with ADHD.
And … I’m cheering for you.