Discoveries

It's the middle of December and we're coming to the end of another year.  

And as always, I find myself reflecting on the year and thinking about how it went for me, my children and my husband.  It's something I've done since I was a teenager.  I'm not entirely sure where it comes from, but it's become such habit, now I do it unthinkingly.

Looking back on this year, I've seen myself making a ton of discoveries.  Some of them not so great but most of them wonderful.  These discoveries have translated into some really big changes.  

Because I've been sharing for the better part of  a year now, and my brain won't allow me to stop thinking about this, I thought perhaps writing down what I've discovered about myself, my family and how it's changed us in the last year, might take it off my mind.

When I started this blog, when my diagnosis first came about, I had no idea of what was to come.  I had no idea of the direction my life would take.  I had no idea the decisions I'd make and how they would affect my life, and in turn, the affect they would take on my family.  I truly did not appreciate how much I affected others.  I think I believed that most people just wrote me off and ignored me for the most part.  I didn't realize how wrong that was.

My first major discovery was the ADHD.  I couldn't believe how free I felt, just knowing what was going on in my head.  Suddenly I had an answer to a whole variety of questions I'd had about myself.  It answered so many questions that others had asked me in the past.  It just gave me a different perspective on me, my brain and how I function.  Or, rather in some cases, why I had such difficulty functioning in certain areas of my life.  It helped me understand myself so quickly, and then, when I had more information, I could pass that on to others around me and in turn, help them understand me better.  Immediately, there were changes.

Immediately, however, there were more questions.  My anxiety rose.  Now what do I do? was probably the most pertinent question.  I truly had no idea where to start.  That's where I'm so thankful for the doctors and therapists I was introduced to and had access to over the summer and fall.

The first group therapy I took was an anxiety group.  I learned how to manage my anxiety.  I learned why things bugged me so much.  I learned how to take the worries of the moment, place them in a different spot for a period of time, just breathe and then  move forward, either fixing the issue if it could be fixed, or just letting those ones that can't be fixed go.  The group was filled with lessons that I knew about, but didn't know how to put into practice.  Over time, I became proficient in letting irritation go, letting anxiety go and just being in the moment.  It's helped me in parenting, everyday life and looking towards the future where I know there are big changes coming.  Because of this group, life doesn't seem as overwhelming anymore.  

The second group I took was about health, weight loss and food.  Always always always skeptical about weight loss, I went in with as open a mind as I could muster.  Some of the topics we dealt with, I was highly aware of, given my past with diabetes, dieticians and doctors.  Others, I had no idea about and came out of that group feeling empowered and much more mindful of what I eat.  This group centered around finding one's happy weight.  The weight where they are comfortable with themselves, feeling healthy and happy.  We were never told that we COULD NOT eat something.  We were given alternatives, given additions to help us feel fuller longer, given ideas of how to prepare and cook our meals.  It was an eye opening experience, and not one I'll soon forget.  It wasn't like going to Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig.  There was no pressure, no judgement, no need for guilt.  It was open, honest and clear.  

My third group was my ADHD group and beyond a shadow of the doubt, the most life changing group of them all.  It was in this group I made my biggest discoveries about myself.

I discovered that because of my ADHD, it makes me more observant.  This is a benefit and drawback all at the same time.  It benefits me because I can take more in and I'm capable of "multitasking" (which is a bit of a misnomer, but for a lack of a better word, this gives you an idea of what I mean).  It means that jobs where some people might have difficulty with multiple tasks, I probably excel at.  My last job I had before I had Logan, I did two jobs in my store, and it took two people to replace me.  And I loved that job.  I loved that I could do both positions, sometimes doing both jobs in the same day.  It was a challenge and fun for me.  It was a real source of pride for me.  However, being very observant makes life difficult when there is so much to see and do; I become overwhelmed.  Being overwhelmed makes me cranky and irritable, difficult to deal with at that time.  I can't concentrate on anything and then I miss things that are important.  In school was where I struggled most with that.  I want to do better, KNEW I could do better, but there was always something distracting me, something better to do, someone to talk to.  I was a big daydreamer.  As soon as it wasn't interesting to me anymore, I tuned right out.  

I discovered I'm a great organizer.  And not only that, I really like to organize.  I knew this to a certain degree before all of this, but because I'd organize only to have it all destroyed in days, I just thought I was awful at it.  That's not even a bit true.  I'm actually quite good at it, enjoy it and find peace and contentment in the end result.  I like knowing where everything is, how to find it.  I hate trying to get out the door and not knowing where my keys, cell phone, whatever I need in that moment are.  It drives me almost to tears.  The same can go for not being able to find things important to me in that moment.  Piles of clutter really do upset me.  But, instead of trying to look for it, or clean up, I would immediately become upset and just give up on the spot.  Now, that's not the case.  I can find things when I need them.  I find myself excited for a new house because I know that we will have far more space for storage, and I will be able to find everything because it will be where I placed it, labelled in its bin, ready for me to find.  

I discovered why I became so irritable at the kids.  This isn't a source of joy for me, in particular, but it is a relief to figure it out.  I have such difficulty in a regular moment of chaos (which is pretty normal in my home) that when I did get a moment to concentrate on something, usually the tv, or even my blog, then I'd get really upset and yell.  A lot.  Since I've calmed down and don't get as frustrated and it's easier for me to concentrate, I don't get as angry and irritated.  Grady spends more time with me, cuddling and talking to me and I just revel in those moments.  Logan is doing far better in school and Olivia is just generally happier with the situation.  It's a source of guilt for me at the moment, but I'll figure that out as time goes on.  

I've discovered I'm far more capable than I thought I was.  I've manged to get into the basement and clean up all the kids toys.  This was an enormous job and took me close to a week.  Between the kids toys and the clothing (they wound up going hand in hand due to the location of the toys) we donated a dozen bags of toys and clothing to Good Will, as well as several larger toys the kids never play with.  It felt so good to do something for someone else.  There are items in those bags that I know will make someone happy.  

I've discovered I have talents.  I'm good with words, so a blog seemed like a good way to express myself.  I have no idea what it does for others, but I know for me, it makes my brain a little less cluttered.  I have a personal journal as well, for the more personal topics I want to get out of my brain, especially if I need to express frustration in an individual and I don't want them to feel bad about it.  Some of my frustration isn't their fault, but my own perceptions in the moment, so putting it down and evaluating it helps a lot.  I am a good photographer.  Not remotely the best ever, but definitely I have a talent there.  My confidence is rising rapidly, and perhaps one day I will get around to selling my work.  I found a talent in gardening.  It made me feel so calm and relaxed.  In the evenings, especially after hot days, I went outside, enjoyed the cooling air, the darkness and watered my flowers and herbs.  After a day of dealing with three kids and all of their friends, I truly enjoyed the peace and quiet.  I liked going out to pick off old buds, trim off leaves to make them grow a bit better.  I liked researching different flowers and marveling at nature and how resilient it was.  

I've discovered self esteem.  I don't say re-discovered because I'm not entirely sure that I really had all that much self-esteem.  Part of my new found positive sense in myself comes from the inside.  Giving myself credit for the work I have done, the changes I've made in my world, and the continuing work I do to make things even better.  The changes don't even have to be large ones.  Just remembering for a long period of time to hang up jackets and put away boots, and I give myself a pat on the back.  Another part of my rise in self esteem comes from others around me.  They notice the changes, they notice I'm happier.  At my sister's wedding, I was complimented so many times on how good I looked, I started to wonder if I should be modelling or something!  Of course, that isn't the case, but overall, it was magnificent to be told how wonderful I looked.  I'm not sure it was my "looks" per se, but mostly how I was feeling about myself.  Confidence, I'm discovering, breeds beauty.

I've rediscovered my patience.  That was a hard one to lose.  I've always seen myself as a very patience person.  Sometimes, however, I would let others treat me poorly, talk to me meanly and be rude to me, and I would just tell myself I'm patient.  I was probably too low in self esteem to see that, but now, I know.  I am definitely a patient person now though, probably always have been to a degree, but now, I'm far more patient than I was a year ago.  And if I find myself losing my patience, I take the lessons learned from my anxiety group and breathe, thinking to myself why I'm losing my patience and if it is a valid reason.

I've discovered how to manage the multitude of thoughts in my brain.  Not an easy thing to do when they're going 50 miles a minute, flashing past and leaving negative thoughts.  Part of dealing with that, however, meant dealing with the clutter in my physical life.  Managing what was on the outside, all around me, meant that it became easier to manage what was going on in my head.  It's not so loud in there anymore.  I've often told people "If you knew what was going on in my head, you'd never complain about my talking!"  There was always so much in there, that if I said half of what was in there, I'd never ever ever shut up.  It's not easy living like that.  

I've discovered how to be happy.  I've discovered how to learn.  I've discovered how to listen.  I've discovered how to gauge my audience in discussions.  I've learned to embrace my diagnosis and use it for good.  These are all lessons that were sorely needed, but until I was told what was going on, there were no answers to how to learn those lessons.  

This past year has just been incredible.  We're moving forward on Logan's diagnosis, having had the academic testing just done last week.  Now we're waiting on the cognitive testing to be done and we'll start to get more answers for him as well.  Whatever the case may be, we will have answers and can get moving forward, instead of struggling trying to find solutions for a problem we're not even sure we know about yet.  He's a strong kid though, and he understands that he thinks differently than other kids, even if he doesn't entirely understand why he is that way.  Logan just requires more patience and time than his sister does right now, and if that's what it's going to take, then that's fine by me right now.  

I'm onto new things soon.  I applied for school last night, looking to take the medical administrative assistant certificate.  It's a big step for me.  I've looked into the Students with Disabilities help already and was more than satisfied that they will be more than willing to help me through the process of school.  It's encouraging to know that the help is there, even for adults, as long as we are willing to look for and ask for it.  

And that's my biggest discovery of all.  

Knowing that no matter what, there is help out there.  There are people who understand what is going on in our brains and want to help adults with ADHD function in the world.  There are people who are willing to listen and appreciate that we're all different.  Some of it isn't free, some help is.  Some help is easy to find, some help you need to dig for.  Above all, if we're struggling, it's best to ask for help.  Not fall into that mire of negativity.  Not to fall into apathy anymore.  A little extra work can mean huge dividends.  I'm never going to be a world class surgeon, or lawyer.  I'm never going to be a famous actor or athlete.  I doubt highly that my ADHD would allow me to get that far.  I'm going to be me.  Happy.  Content.  A little obsessive.  A little anxious.  A mom, wife, friend, sister, daughter.  I'm going to be right, I'm going to be wrong.  

Above all, I'm just going to be okay.  No matter what life brings me, I'm going to be okay.  

Is Failure An Option?

I bet you're all like "NO!  It is NOT an option!"

I KNOW my mother in law is yelling that.  It's okay Patti, let me explain.

I, respectfully, disagree.

Last night was my final ADHD group session.  And it was incredibly bittersweet.  It was wonderful to see how far I'd come, but I still crave a bit more support for the future.  One of our leaders of our group asked about what we'd learned.  I said that I felt great, but that I knew one day I would fail and that I was okay with that.

I was stopped by another member of the group who asked me why I would use the word fail?  It's such a harsh word.  This member didn't want to see me set myself up for failure, which was so heartening.  We'd just spent 10 weeks together, listening and helping, giving suggestions and really supporting each other.  Of course, none of us want to see one another fail.  

But to me, the word fail is just a word.  Yes, it's a harsh word.  I can't argue that.  

I explained to the other members of the group that to me, I needed a word that meant something to me.  Other words just don't see to be harsh enough for me to make me really move forward.  It's a word that gives me a kick in the ass.  

It's just a word.  It's the context in how I use the word that matters most.  I feel the same way about swear words.  I know people don't like them, but I find that again, it's context.  As long as I'm not using them in a derogatory manner, but maybe to express myself in a moment of pain, chances are, I'm not hurting anyone.  It's the same with the word fail.  I'm not using to hurt myself, or put too much pressure on myself.  I'm using it as a word that matters to me.  Motivates me.

I also have to assess what my standard is for failure.  I'm feeling a bit like a dish Nazi right now.  I get anxious when there are dishes in the sink.  That sounds silly to most, but in my past, leaving a dish in the sink, just putting off, procrastinating, makes it build up.  I'm working really hard at NOT procrastinating.  To me, procrastinating is a manner of failing.  Not doing it in the moment when I have a second to just touch it up, that's a fail.  I hate to admit that my dad and mother in law were right, but doing a bit at a time, everyday, keeps things tidy and neat.  (AGH!  That hurt to admit I was wrong.) 

These aren't MASSIVE failures.  They're just mistakes really, but in some cases, for me, right now, it's a fail.  

This doesn't mean I sit around and beat myself up.  I don't call myself a failure and go on and on about it.  I USED to do that.  That was unproductive.  Now, I just tell myself, okay, I failed.  Time to do it and then move on.  No more beating myself up.  I screw up.  It's just how I choose to express it.  

I am aware there are different ways to express this.  Falling back, stepping back, backsliding, however works for others.  But the word fail just gives me that boost.  That motivation.  I know.  It sounds like pressure I don't need.  I'm not sure about that.  I think I needed a bit more pressure.  I needed bit more motivation to move forward and I had to put more pressure on myself to do that.  

So.  Again.  Is failure an option?  

In my world, it is.  

I Hate My Left Foot

I think I hate my left foot.  

I bet you're wondering "How can you hate your foot?"

Well, I don't know exactly, but I think I do.  I mean, it's the only explanation for the abuse I've put it through in the past.

Last week, I was getting into the bathtub.  I was looking forward to a lovely, warm bath, tired from my day.  I put my right foot in, then lifted my left foot, and went to place it into the tub when,

WHAM!

I bashed my little toe on the edge of the tub, hard.  Like, wow, I heard it pop and crack hard.  I sat there in the tub for a moment, trying not to cry.  I called up Jeff and told him what I did.  He was, needless to say, incredulous.  Neither of us could figure out how I did this.  Just the baby toe.  No where else on the foot.  And man, did it swell fast!  The toe itself doubled in size in about five minutes, and then the swelling moved across the base of my other toes.  

So.  I finished my bath.  I was in it, might as well get cleaned up.  

As I went to get out of the tub, I knew I wouldn't be able to put much pressure on the side of my foot that I damaged, but I didn't realize I wouldn't be able to walk at all!  I put pressure on my heel and it pulled on the tendons in the rest of the foot, bringing shooting pain to the toe I just, most likely, broke.  

I was angry.  I had plans for the next day!  I wanted to get some Christmas shopping done!  I couldn't even get a boot on the next day.  I could barely get up and down the stairs, forget getting the laundry done.  I did do a bit of baking and cleaning, but I wasn't really happy with my plans being wrecked by a useless baby toe!

We were joking about it because I get the most ridiculous injuries.  Because of past injuries to this foot, I happened to have a pair of crutches in my closet.  I never, in a million years, thought I would need crutches for a baby toe.  How ridiculous is this??

I bet you're asking why I had crutches in my closet.  

Oh, those are from last year, when I fell down the basement stairs trying to walk over the cat food my then two year old dumped all over the bottom of the stairs.  Somehow, when I was falling down, I managed to take my left foot, fold it under my body and land on it, spraining it and winding up on crutches for about four or five days.  The best part?  I had fallen while putting up Christmas decorations and had a MASSIVE bruise down the right side arm, on the back.  I was pretty wrecked.  The nurse at the hospital made sure to ask me if I had not had a black out or something.  Nope.  I remembered all of the ways I injured myself.  And my husband was in Fort McMurray when I fell the first time.  So, it wasn't him.   

About 12 years ago, I was in the shower at an old apartment, getting ready for work.  I'm still, to this day, not sure how it happened, but I found myself on the bottom of the tub with a very sore elbow.  When I brought my feet in front of me, I saw a football sized left foot.  Jeff, again, came into the bathroom to see what happened.  Turns out, when I was falling, I had again, folded that leg under me, my middle toes going under the covered drain.  I broke the toe in the middle.  It was split at the top like a fork.  

Because of the swelling in my foot, Jeff insisted on taking me to the hospital.  I said no at first, because I mean, it's a toe.  I was told my whole life that they will do nothing for a broken toe.  I was already humiliated, I didn't want to further it.  In the end, he won.  First, because we were new, we went to the Edmonton General Hospital, thinking that was closest, so it made sense.  We were wrong.  By that time, it was now a long term care facility.  So...a bit more humiliation.  We went across the river to the University of Alberta Hospital.  They took me into the triage, where I was placed across from a computer screen of a man's head that had been crushed in.  Another lady beside me had poked her hand with an epi pen and her thumb was now dying.  I felt pretty stupid at this point.

The hospital treated me wonderfully.  Because of the swelling, they took me to x-ray.  Turns out the break was worse than we thought.  I wound up with a half cast, that went from the end of my toes, all the way up the back of my calf, then bound up with a tensor bandage.  At least, I could bathe easily.  Off it for ten days, with crutches.  Awesome.  So much fun explaining that one.

I didn't realize how much this ridiculous baby toe affects my life.  Seriously.  I can walk pretty much perfectly when I'm at home, but the second I need to put a boot or shoe on my foot, and that's it.  I'm limping again.  It's stupid.  I'm into the second week of this and I'm tired of it.  I'm scared of my winter boots!!  I tape it, and that helps, but it's a pain in the ass to tape too.  I'm fairly sure I should just cut this foot off and start new or something.  

I have many other stupid injury stories.  A lot of them do with me falling down the stairs, slipping on the ice, (that happened last month) and other silly ways of hurting myself.

I joke about it a lot because, frankly, I'm just a klutz apparently.  

One day, I want a cool injury.

Last winter, Jeff took me skiing for the first time.  I almost wished I'd break a leg or arm or something.  Then at least I could be like "Yeah, I was rushing down the hill, and suddenly, I caught the edge of my ski and I just blew it!"  That would be a lot cooler at least.  

I'm not, by any means, saying I WANT to be in jured or WANT a broken arm or leg.  I'd rather have a better story than "I was just getting into the bathtub and WHAM, I bashed JUST that toe!" And then have people look at me like "Oh...okay".  

I played football, I've skied, biked, hiked, done lots of things where I could have had a better injury story.  In football, my "injuries" were my knees because I was stupid and instead of taking it easier, I threw myself into it, much to my body's chagrin.  It took nearly 2 months before I could walk without pain again.  But it was really worth it.  My big football injury was a concussion I got.  That was my fault.  I stood up, full height and just got mowed down.  Concussions + children makes for a tough weekend, let me tell you!  

My husband is a walking scar.  But at least his scars have stories!  I've picked him up on mountains, bleeding.  I've taken him to the Medicenter because he dropped a clothes drier on his toes.  That was a wicked injury.  His silliest injury was when he broke his ankle after drinking and finding a gopher hole with his foot.  I laughed at him for that one.  

I'm not saying I'm an adrenaline junkie, I'm not saying I admire the "Jackass" guys or anything like that.  But I'm saying that one time, I'd like one injury where I can say "OH man...you should have seen it!!"  

Is this weird?