Monthly Archives: May 2011

“Little-Miss-Positive-Sunshine-Fun-Loving-Party-Girl”

Have you ever seen those people…they actually weird me out…that can be sitting at a restaurant table, and will suddenly get up to dance (stone-sober) because the music came on?  Or those people that can go to a  function like a picnic or pool party and actually have a good time (stone-sober), instead of just pretending to?  You know those people I’m talking about…they’re, for lack of a better word, h-a-p-p-y.  I just do not understand happy people at all.

I don’t want you to think I’m sad or negative in my normal state of existence.  Quite the opposite actually…I’m little-miss-positive-sunshine-fun-loving-party-girl.  But in my core, I never really feel that curious emotion of “happiness” that others mysteriously speak of.  It’s not that I’m not “happy” with my life, because I am…incredibly so, but I think there are two kinds of happy; one being an emotion and one being a consensus.  I have the latter down, but it just so happens that every-day-life is not enough excitement to trigger my emotional-happy-meter.  Sorry, that’s just how I roll.  It sounds terrible, I know.  Her poor husband!  Her poor children!  I’m sure it’s a chemical issue…maybe  some out-of-whack dopamine or that squirrely serotonin that always seems to be giving me problems.  I don’t know.  What I do know, is that I have GOT to stop comparing the state of my mental health to that of the stone-sober-table-dancer because I’ll never win that way.   I am simply not a table-dancer.  I don’t have the moves!  I’m lacking the rhythm!  I don’t hear the same melody!  I need tequila!  Nothing about me is programmed for stone-sober-table-dancing,  I’m admitting it to myself right here, and from now on, I vow to focus less on what I’m not, and more on what I am.  A fearless-arms-up-roller-coaster-rider.

 

“The minute you start comparing yourself to others, you forget that you’re doing exactly what it is you’re meant to be doing.”


Mindfulness and Our Furry Friends

I am in awe of the perfection of nature and our earth and world, and like to watch the dance of the changing of seasons. Though you can watch it from anywhere, there is no place more magical than being in nature with nature.  You slow down, you become more mindful and you catch glimpses of things that Mrs. Jones driving to the mall while texting, will probably never see.

We have some trails by our house that are beautiful with a serene creek running through and beaches for Stormi (my constant companion) to swim (did I say swim?  I meant wade) and jump around and well, just to act like a dog.

Storm and I decided to get out of the house and tackle the trails.  Keep in mind, she is still a good 10 lbs. overweight from a leg injury.  Actually, I have come to worry more about her weight than my own.  Seriously!  It’s kind of cool because when you are doing something for someone else, it is easier to make it a priority than if it’s something for yourself…as wrong as that is.  I know I need to get that 10 lbs. off of her so she can be healthy, so I am out every morning and every evening with her.  The bonus?  My weight manages itself now.

Back to my point…I noticed that when we came home from our “nature time” I felt so good, and happy and carefree.  I can honestly say the effects of our trail walks last throughout the day, and I am a better person for it, though that isn’t the only reason for my childish excitement when it’s time to go.  The reason is…an extra glint in my dog’s eyes, an extra hop in her step, a big smile on her face with her tongue hanging out.  She is so happy when she is sniffing bushes and running down the trail and chasing squirrels.  She acts like SUCH a dog!  That may sound weird to you, but it is refreshing to me after seeing countless dogs in couture outfits being carried around in crazy-expensive purses.

There is something about nature that speaks to all beings…we just have to take the time to listen.


My Turbo Brain

As an adult blessed/cursed with ADHD, I feel this is an inspiring article to share, written by one of my favorite ADHD specialists, Dr. Ned Hallowell.


I have never stopped loving ADHD.  I have the condition myself, and I treat hundreds of people who have it at my center in Sudbury, Massachusetts every year.  And with my buddy, John Ratey, I have written several books about it.

You see, I have a love affair with ADHD.

Would you mind if I didn’t call ADHD ADHD in this piece?  I really dislike the term.  Please don’t tell the Thought Police that I have strayed from the DSM-IV.  Just indulge this aging lover in his love and let him—me—call ADHD something else.  How about Turbo?

I choose Turbo because having this condition is like having a turbo-charged brain (I do not see Turbo as a disorder, but rather as a condition, or a trait; I know there are important reasons to consider it as a disorder—mainly having to do with getting accommodations, research funding, and insurance reimbursement—but for my little love letter here, let me refer to my love as a trait, okay?).

The Turbo brain is so unpredictable.  One minute it gets you into trouble, the next minute it gives you the smartest idea you’ve ever had.

The Turbo brain speaks out of turn, it speaks when it should hush up, it speaks when others wish it wouldn’t, it even speaks when it wishes it wouldn’t.

The Turbo brain forgets.  Oh, does it ever forget.  And it remembers just a minute or two too late.  The Turbo brain often gets yelled at, or gets reprimanded, lectured, scorned, remediated, medicated, or even detonated, so that it explodes!  When it explodes, of course, there is a mess.  And then there is a mess to clean up.  Sometimes the owner of the Turbo brain lives life from mess to mess.

The Turbo brain knows enthusiasm like few other brains ever do, but it also knows disappointment too well, too.  The Turbo brain tries—oh, boy, does it ever try—but then it shows up at the wrong place on the wrong day with hat in hand, ready for another reprimand.

The Turbo brain cannot conform.  It loves its own way too much.  It loves to go where enchantment leads it, and once caught up in a mind-riff it can’t say no—because it forgets where it is and what the world is waiting for.

The reason I love the Turbo brain is the same reason I love anyone or anything that has to overcome great odds.  The deck is stacked against the Turbo brain, especially in school.  But I also love it because at times it can be so marvelous.  It has to persist, and not believe all the nasty things that get said about it, if it is to do well over the long haul.

Can it do well? Oh, can it ever!

What do you need to do to give yourself the best chance of doing well if you have a Turbo brain, or if someone you love or like or teach or care for has such a blessed brain?

You need, above all else, in as many positive ways as you can, to CONNECT.

You need to connect up with a mentor who sees your hidden skills and talents and can help draw them out of you.

You need to find someone, somewhere who gets such a kick out of you that they just can’t help but smile when you walk into the room, even if you have your pants on backwards and you’re an hour-and-a-half late.

You need to find a pet who loves you and you love back, in spite of poops.

You need to have a hobby that you get lost in, like building engines; or a sport you’re awesome at, like wrestling; or a horn you like to blow.

You need to find a place where you can relax, a place where you connect to the vibes of whatever is true and good and fine in the life you live and the life you hope to live.

You need to connect to hope.

You need to be in Nature, at the sea or on a mountain or in the sky, and feel how much like Nature is your Turbo brain.

You need to connect to love and disconnect from all the nasties that nibble at you like gnats.

You need to give what’s best in you but you don’t know what it is a chance to grow.  You do this by finding the right gardener.

The right gardener is out there.  He or she is not always easy to find, as right gardeners don’t turn up as often as one would hope.  But when you find the right gardener—the one who sees you’re not a weed but a most unusual plant—then your hard work will turn you into the great tree you were meant to be.

Having a Turbo brain can be hard.  Having a brain—period—can be hard.

But, I can tell you, as one who has a Turbo brain, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

After all, it has given me my world—my loves of many kinds—and even if it is not there when I need it, it takes me where, without it, I could never go.


The Butterfly of Freedom

The Butterfly of Freedom

“Why do you fly outside the box?”

“I fly outside the box because I can.”

“But we KNOW the box.  We are SAFE inside the box”.

“That, my friend, is why I leave it.  For YOU may be SAFE…

…but I AM FREE!”

~Edward Monkton


The Circus Circle

I was having a hard time concentrating on writing when I realized I forgot to take my “focus pill”.  By the time I made it downstairs to get it, I forgot about the pill and thought I was getting myself water.  I took a drink of the water, noticing how cold it was.  I then realized that the entire downstairs was cold, and I needed to take a bath to warm up.  After my bath, I walked into my bedroom to see the laptop open to my manuscript and realized I had been in the middle of writing.  I started writing again, and soon realized that I had forgotten to take my “focus pill”…


Introverts and Extraverts – Do you know the difference?

Source – Counseling the Gifted & Talented, 1993, pg. 69, Love Publishing, Linda Silverman

As a “twice-exceptional” adult with ADHD and giftedness, I find myself constantly having to defend my actions, mannerisms, and quirks.  WE ARE NOT ALL THE SAME, PEOPLE!  Even “normal” people can be classified into two types; the introvert and the extravert.

Look below to  determine your type.  This is especially helpful if you have children.  Understanding where their behavior and actions stem from, can allow you to change your reactions.  Most people will see themselves  in both categories, but the easiest way to figure out your type is to ask yourself if you are energized or drained when around other people.  If you or someone you know is an introvert (like myself), keep in mind that introverts need a little extra care and understanding.

Extraverts

Get energy from interaction

Feel energized by people

Have a single-layered personality (same in public and private)

Are open and trusting

Think out loud

Like being the center of attention

Learn by doing

Are comfortable in new situations

Make lots of friends easily

Are distractible

Are impulsive

Are risk-takers

Introverts

Get energy from inside themselves

Feel drained by people

Have a persona and an inner-self

Need privacy

Mentally rehearse before speaking

Hate being the center of attention

Learn by observing

Are comfortable with changes

Are loyal to a few close friends

Are capable of intense concentration

Are reflective

Fear humiliation; quiet in large groups

How to care for introverts

Respect their need for privacy

Let them observe first in new situations

Don’t interrupt them

Give them 15 minute warnings of changes

Teach them new skills in private

Do not push them to make lots of friends

Never embarrass them in public

Give them time to think.  Don’t demand answers.

Give them advanced notice of changes in their lives

Reprimand them privately

Enable them to find one best friend

Respect their introversion.  Don’t try to remake them into extraverts.



Drinking River Water – My life with ADHD

This whole ADD thing has been a trip.  The really cool part is there is now a nicely packaged, single reason for all of the things I felt were wrong…I have always told my mom “it shouldn’t be this hard…it isn’t this hard for other people…this isn’t normal”.

I always felt misunderstood.  I was always called weird (which I was totally ok with…weird is a compliment, I think), but I just didn’t really understand what people thought was weird about me.  I have a tendency to be anxious.  I am completely overtaken by the moods of others.  I procrastinate.  I can’t pay bills and keep track of finances, and have no emotional tie with money.  I can’t keep friends, except for those who have grown to accept me (and don’t try to change me).  I don’t bond easily with people.  I stress myself trying to help everyone.  I’m constantly on a self-improvement plan.  I feel nature in my bones.  I get in a funk where I feel dead inside.  I am easily overwhelmed.  I don’t like to be touched.  The sound of a telephone makes me want to put my fist through a wall.  I can have a horrendous temper and snap, but forget about it 5 seconds later.  I have horrible word recall.  I always forget what I’m talking about mid-sentence.  I don’t pay attention to getting to my destination when I drive, and have ended up in the wrong state more than once.  I love animals so much it’s often painful.   I am emotionally and physically affected by the sadness and heartbreak of others.  I can’t watch TV.  Overhead lights bother me.  A ceiling fan on my skin makes me crazy.  Smells can make me throw up.  I can’t make casual conversation on the phone.  I sometimes don’t understand people when they speak (especially if they speak too fast), and have to read lips.  I can’t maintain eye contact during a conversation and if I try to, I feel like my eyes are going to pop out of my head.  I “have no regard for safety”, according to my husband.  The list can go on and on and on…but now, instead of a billion-trillion things being weird and not-quite right about me…it is only one.  I have only one thing wrong with me!!!!!!!  Yippeee!

The thing is, there is such mental anguish that comes from constantly TRYING to be organized, trying to be on-time, trying to be “with it”, TRYING to be a less loud and rowdy version of yourself, and just basically putting so much energy into trying to be a person that you PHYSICALLY CAN NOT BE (hold a gun to my head, and I get worse, not better), it slowly kills you.  On top of that, there are such immense and painful feelings of self-shame…of being such a loser that “can’t keep friends… etc.”  My self-talk is embarrassing…I would never speak to anyone the way I speak to myself.  It doesn’t end there…you can physically feel the disappointment and frustration from others.

My mom is SO incredibly responsible.  Before, learning about the mental challenges of ADD, I think it was hard for her to understand why I have such a hard time keeping up with everything.  She was constantly trying to fix things, and saying things like… ”Keep a notebook by your medicine so you can write it down when you take it”.  It is such a simple idea, keeping a notebook.  That is just SO logical.  Well, ADD isn’t logical!   We have since learned that in the past, every time she gave me pointers, I would get so defensive and so angry with myself because she made it sound so simple, but for some reason, I couldn’t do it.  I would try to explain… “Mom if it was just a matter of being able to do it, I would do it!”

Now she understands, but she still forgets sometimes (well most of the time), and immediately steps in with a “logical solution” to my woes, but now, I just say “GEE MOM…WHAT A GREAT IDEA!” and then we giggle.  What a difference.  Now, I almost look forward to her hearing her little “logical tips”, just so I can mess with her.

After all of these years, I am beginning to come to terms with my diagnosis of Adult ADD.  I can appreciate my extra intuitiveness, creativity, and what I consider a pretty cool brain.  I believe with all of my heart, that those with ADD have true gifts that need to be celebrated.  I am even ok with the fact that after three years, I still can’t  remember which house is mine when I am pulling into the garage from the back (I do it daily).

No, it’s isn’t the forgetfulness that gets me down, my personal struggle has always been fighting the anxiety and depression that seem to go hand in hand with ADD.  Second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour… just waiting for something bad to happen.  Well, that wasn’t really working for me, so I have decided to look at life with ADD differently.  For instance, right now, I feel like I have a pretty good hold on my life.  However, I am fully aware the bottom will come out and I will fall into the “dead place” again…probably sooner rather than later.  I think the key is knowing and also accepting that it will happen.

With this brain disorder, I can’t count on perfect mental health, but I can let go of that terrifying, exhausting feeling of “holding on for dear life” every second of every day.  I have always imagined myself constantly walking on the edge of a cliff, trying desperately not to fall off.   I’ve decided to change my perception of the way my life works…it doesn’t have to be a stressful analogy like walking on the edge of a cliff.  Why can’t I have a peaceful analogy for my life?  It’s my life, and it’s my analogy, therefore I have decided to change it to the more Zen analogy of floating down a river.

White-water rapids are also pretty much guaranteed at some point in the river which means you’ll be “holding on for dear life” while your raft bounces off of rocks, and you gasp and choke as you unintentionally drink gallons of river water.  Is that how normal people think?  Of life’s analogy more described as a river?  Not ADD people.  Because of the physiology of our brains, we get blasted from every direction (that’s what it feels like, too…like a continuous attack, not only mentally, but physically.  Smells, sounds, every sense is constantly being over-stimulated) every second of every waking day.  That’s why we feel like we are walking on the edge…we are just struggling to survive the day.

When you add the juggling of life, you have to be pretty steady to keep your balance.  That is sometimes more than we can handle.  We panic, we drop the balls, and we fall.  Anything seemingly minor can knock us right off the edge, but we struggle mightily to keep our balance, because if we fall, we will land in the dead place.

I wrote this about the dead place…

“The dead place is dark, lonely & suffocating.  The voice from the dead place talks to me and tells me that I’ll never leave, I’ll be there forever or until I can’t take it anymore and decide to “check out”.   I begin to believe it, because it is the only voice I hear.  I can hear the faint cry from the other voices.   The other voices are so far away.  I can’t hear what they’re saying.  I know they’re trying to tell me something, but the voice from the dead place begins talking louder now.  I get frustrated, straining painfully to hear the words of the other voices.

After some time, the other voices give up, turning away in frustration.  I have no idea they were trying to tell me to hold out my hand, that they brought a rope to help me climb out of the dead place.  Since I’m not holding out my hand, they think I’m ignoring them.  They don’t know that I can’t hear them, that their voices are mixed and jumbled.  They have decided that I must like it in that deep, dark, dead place or I would hold out my hand.

My stomach flips as the dark, heavy fabric of their frustration shrouds my head, making it almost impossible to breathe, see or hear.  The fabric starts to move, and slowly begins snaking in and out of my eyes, ears, nose and mouth, before settling heavily in my brain.  Immediately, my senses begin to fade, and my vision is replaced with the mottled, gray-brown color of the fabric.  My stomach jerks as I gag from the sickly sweet smell of it.  Pain makes me recoil from the accusing heat of it burning my skin.  I gag again as my mouth fills with the sharp, metallic taste of it.

Confused, angry, embarrassed & hurt, I begin to mentally disconnect and disengage from the other voices, and their judgments. Doing so will prevent this pain in the future.  Afraid of suffocating, and as the feeling of shame becomes unbearable, I turn slowly back to face the dead place.  Sadly, I realize I am more comfortable down here than balancing up on the cliff constantly surrounded by the other voices.  I sigh, accepting the familiar sense of defeat and begin to listen to the unthinkable words of the voice from the dead place.  I begin to forget about my “other life”, balancing on the edge of the cliff, and look for somewhere to rest my eyes.  My energy is depleted, and it is too hard to stay awake.

As the dead place senses its victory, it begins to whisper wickedly about hopelessness, loneliness, shame, guilt and defeat.  An old movie projector noisily jumps to life.  I watch with dread as images of every failed job, business, friendship, relationship, etc. begin to flicker by on the wall.  On another wall, I watch a parade of faces of the people I’ve let down in my lifetime.  I feel ashamed, and cry out from the sharp stab of hate I have for myself.  Like a broken record, I begin to attack myself.

If I love them, why do I let them down?  Why am I like this?  Why can’t I be normal?  Why is this so hard for me?  I realize with panic, I don’t have the answers.  I’ll never have the answers.  My throat tightens with pain, and I can’t breathe.  My heart responds by beating frantically.  My stomachs pinches with tension and my hands start to shake.  Gasping to get a breath, every movement becomes a struggle.

Remembering the words of the voice from the dead place, I slowly realize that I’m not strong enough (I must have been tricking myself into thinking I ever was strong) to endure this mental & physical torture for another second, let alone a lifetime.

At this point, I have two choices.  I can either climb, bloody fingernail by bloody fingernail, back to the top of the cliff to my designated post of teetering on the edge, (knowing full well that I’ll fall to the dead place again soon, and go through the nightmare again), or I can just kill myself…I know, it sounds pretty dramatic, but think about it…if I killed myself, I would never have to wobble on the edge of the cliff OR endure the eternal suffering of the dead place again.

My only problem with that scenario is that I just can’t imagine that my purpose in this world is to live a constant, daily struggle for a lifetime of years just to end it by gagging down some pain pills and crapping my pants while the bodily gasses escape from my butt like loud popping noises.  That’s not really what I had in mind by “going out with a bang”.  I want to see what this was all for.  I want to see it through till the end.  It’s the only way I’ll ever know how strong I truly am.

So, from now on, whenever I find myself in the dead place, I am going to choose the bloody fingernail route.  When it comes down to it, I have decided I would rather go through a lifetime of my own torture than to put those that  I love through the pain of a self-inflicted “going out with a fart instead of a bang”.

See?  Isn’t the river analogy better?  Instead of standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting with dread to lose my balance, I am floating down the river drinking a cold beer.  Yes, I know there will be some crazy-ass rapids hidden around the bend in the river, but I’m not putting this beer down until I’m drinking gallons of that river water.


Get your A-Team together!

I’ve found delegating to be a real key when it comes to happy wife, happy life.  It took some training, but my husband and I have definitely found our groove when it comes to doing tasks that we are strong in, versus doing tasks that the “woman” or “man” typically does, but there definitely has to be an agreement in place, rather than just telling someone to do something.  I can’t stand to do laundry or dishes (thank you sensory issues), and he can’t stand to do home improvements, so we switched tasks.

Unfortunately, I have absolutely zero executive-function skills, and most of the time, can’t even get my brain together enough to prioritize items to even get a to-do list started, so he moonlights as my ADD coach, and works me through all of it, instead of belittling me.  The key is having someone on your team that wants you to succeed instead of just reminding you how often you fail.


AVOID THE S.P.I.N. CYCLE OF ADD

By Dr. Ned Hallowell

Source – http://www.drhallowell.com/blog/avoid-spinning-in-add/

I often compare the ADD mind to Niagara Falls, both wonders of gargantuan movement and energy.  The trick to making use of the energy in Niagara Falls, and to doing well in life with ADD, is building a hydroelectric plant.  You need to hook the energy up to some contraption that can turn it into a useful product.

Whoever makes your diagnosis could say to you what might have been said to someone who lived next to Niagara Falls all her life but never understood how to deal best with a waterfall.  “This waterfall is an insurmountable obstacle if your goal is to paddle.  But, if you will change your plan, I can show you how you can turn this waterfall into something wonderful.  This waterfall can generate enough energy to light up millions of homes.  People will pay you for all that electricity.  You just need to throw away your paddle and build a hydroelectric plant.”

When treatment begins, you are on your way to building that plant.  Treating ADD may seem as difficult as building a hydroelectric plant—but it can be just as successful.  You need to know some of the major pitfalls.  This chapter and the next address two of the most common.

After an initial burst of improvement at the beginning of treatment of ADD, there is usually a leveling off.  This may be followed by long, frustrating periods during which the person with ADD—or the entire family—feels stuck, as if they are simply spinning their wheels instead of making the kind of progress they should be making.  Such spinning happens in people of all ages, but it is especially a problem in older adolescents and adults.  With children, the natural forces of development, coupled with the influence of parents and school, usually prevail and the child progresses.

However, when the diagnosis is not made until late adolescence or adulthood, prolonged periods of going nowhere can stultify treatment.  As one woman wrote to me, “I know you know this already, but there are some people who stubbornly resist help, who are caught in patterns too deeply rooted in the subconscious to be freed from.  Sometimes I wonder if I am one of those.  So don’t bet your money on this horse.  Remember, you can’t save everyone, kid.”

I call these periods of being stuck “spinning,” based on an acronym, S.P.I.N.  The term sums up the usual causes of getting stuck:

  “S” stands for Shame.

  “P” stands for Pessimism and Negativity.

  “I” stands for Isolation.

  “N” stands for No Creative, Productive Outlet.

Getting un-stuck often depends on reversing the influence of some or all of the components of SPIN.  You can do this with a therapist, a coach, a spouse, a support group, a friend, a pastor, a relative, or all of the above.  Let me offer some suggestions on each element of SPIN.

Shame:  The older you get, the more shame you are apt to feel if your ADD is undiagnosed.  You feel ashamed of what a mess your pocketbook always is in.  You feel ashamed of how late you usually are, no matter how hard you try not to be.  You feel ashamed that you haven’t made more of the abilities you were born with.

The shame may penetrate to deeper levels.  You may feel ashamed of your thoughts, desires, and predilections. You may feel the only way you can be accepted is by putting on a mask, and that the real you is fundamentally flawed.

Such shame is toxic.  It is also traumatic.  It raises your stress hormone levels and eventually corrodes your memory and executive functions.  While your fifth grade school teacher may have planted the roots of that shame, you are now the one who intensifies it.  You imagine harsh judges everywhere, as if the world were swarming with strict fifth grade school teachers.  You project the harsh judgments you are making of yourself out onto everyone you meet.  Soon the world becomes like a huge set of judgmental eyes, looming down on you, and your only option is to hide.

With a therapist, with a friend, with a spouse—with someone, because it is all but impossible to do this alone—you need to talk through or “confess” what you take to be your sins.  As you do this, you will discover that they are not nearly as bad in the eyes of others as they are in your eyes.  It is all right that you have messes.  People enjoy your unpredictable remarks, and those who don’t can look elsewhere for friends.  It is all right that you are late.  Sure, it would be good to try to be on time, but as long as people know you are not just blowing them off, they can forgive lateness.  If they can’t, you don’t need them as friends, either.  How boring it would be if everyone were “normal.”  Where would Monty Python or Mel Brooks have come from?  Remember, what is strange today becomes truth or art tomorrow.

Not only does shame hurt, it also is the chief cause of a huge problem in adults who have ADD, namely, the inability to feel good about their achievements.  It is common for ADD adults to be all but impervious to positive remarks.  Whatever they have legitimately achieved they feel must have been done by someone else, or by accident.  One of the main reasons adults with ADD can’t take pleasure in their own successes and creations is, simply, shame.  They feel too ashamed to feel good.  They feel too defective to feel nourished.  They feel it is practically immoral to feel proud of themselves.  Healthy pride is such an alien emotion that they have to look back into the dim recesses of their childhoods to find the last time they felt proud of themselves, if they can find an instance even then.

Shame prevents you from allowing your best self to emerge.  Shame gets in the way of every forward step you try to take.  You call a business and instead of asking to speak to the president or person in charge, you figure you’re too small potatoes for them, so you speak to an underling who can do nothing for you.  You apply for a job, but instead of making a strong case for what you can do for the company, you present a self-effacing persona that is charming, but uninspiring.  You go shopping for clothes and pick outfits that allow you to recede into the background as much as possible.  You shake hands, but have trouble making strong eye contact.  You want to ask a question at a lecture, but you fear that your question is a stupid one.  You have a bright idea, but you don’t do anything with it because you figure it must not be that good if you thought of it.  You do all the work on a project, then don’t speak up when someone else gets credit for what you’ve done.  When someone doesn’t call you back, you assume it was because they found you lacking in some way.  And on, and on.

Try as best you can to override your feelings of shame.  When you shake hands, make eye contact and give a strong handshake, even if you feel second-rate.  When someone doesn’t call you back, assume they’re simply too busy and give them a call.  If, indeed, they do find you lacking and reject you, don’t internalize their judgment.  Look elsewhere.  You don’t want someone who rejects you, anyway.  And remember, rejection in one place is just the first step on the way to acceptance somewhere else, unless you let that first rejection stop you.

It is heartbreaking to watch an adult contribute wonderfully to the world, only to feel every day as if she hadn’t.  It is painful to watch an adult work hard and do much good, only to feel as if someone else had done it.

To allow the adult who has ADD to take deserved pleasure and pride in what he has done, he needs to detoxify the shame that has plagued him for years.

To detoxify his shame, he needs to engage in a deliberate, prolonged process.  It will take some time.  But it can and should be done.  As long as he feels intense shame, he will never feel the kind of joy in life that he has every right to feel.  He will stay stuck in a painful place. Instead, with someone else’s help, he can work toward accepting and enjoying his true self.

If you struggle with this issue, you should try to get rid of the people in your life who disapprove of you or don’t like or love you for who you are.  Get rid of or avoid the people who are overly critical of you rather than accepting of you.  Get rid of the harsh fifth grade school teachers in your life—and within yourself.

Getting rid of that which within you will be a lot easier if you get rid of the ones who surround you.  Your shame has allowed them to stay.  You have felt that’s what you need—daily reprimands, daily belittlements, daily control.  But that’s the opposite of what you need.  It’s your shame that’s let those people into your life.  Your determination not to be ruled by shame any longer will send them away.

You need acceptance.  You need people who see the best in you and want to help you develop that.  As you surround yourself more and more with people who see more good in you than you see in yourself, the frightened, ashamed you will start to feel less afraid, less ashamed, and you will dare to feel proud, a little bit at a time.

Pessimism and Negativity:  Pessimism and negative thinking create a roadblock that conscious intent can actually dislodge like a battering ram if properly aimed.  Pessimism and negativity—which may be boulder-sized due to years of failure and frustration—block your growth at every turn.  If every time you have a new idea or go to meet a new person or begin to play a game you feel, “Why bother? This won’t work out well,” you constantly reduce the chances that anything will work out well.

One remedy for pessimism is to achieve some successes, but in order to gain those successes you may need to overcome your pessimism.  Sounds like a Catch-22, doesn’t it?  But there is a way out of the Catch-22.  You can control what you think, to a certain degree.  You need to work on dismantling your pessimism.  That does not mean you should become a foolish, empty-headed Pollyanna.  However, it does mean you should escape the embrace of Cassandra, the doom-sayer inside of you.

Controlling what you think is the domain of what is currently called cognitive therapy.  Aaron Beck, and his student David Burns, have written superb, practical manuals on how to break the shackles of negative thinking.  Also, Martin Seligman describes a method for achieving optimism in his book, Learned Optimism.

My favorite book on this topic for the ADD audience  is The Art of Living, by the Roman philosopher Epictetus, as translated and put into a modern idiom by Sharon Lebell. One reason I like to recommend it to people who have ADD is that it is short—under 100 pages.  Another reason is that it has stood the test of time, and then some.  Epictetus lived over 2000 years ago.  He is the true father of cognitive therapy.  His basic, guiding principle is that a person should determine what he can control and what he can’t and then work on what he can control—similar to the serenity prayer used in Alcoholics Anonymous.

One element of life we can control, at least somewhat, is how we think.  Epictetus began his life as a slave.  Ordered around every day, poorly fed, beaten, and abused as a slave, he evolved a way of thinking that refused to intensify his suffering by adding to it with wretched thoughts.  He was so persuasive in teaching others his methods that he was released from slavery and became renowned as a great philosopher.  His words were written down by his students and compiled into one of the first and best “self-help” books ever, a book that was so useful in dealing with difficult situations that Roman soldiers often carried copies of it as they marched off into battle.

It worked for Roman soldiers, and it can work today.  I highly recommend this slim volume if you suffer from excessive pessimism or persistently negative thinking.

Isolation:  Isolation is often the by-product of shame, pessimism, and negativity.  It intensifies the shame and negativity, and can lead to depression, toxic anxiety, drug and alcohol abuse, and generally poor performance in all aspects of life.

Staying connected with others is the most important life line any of us has.  And yet, as naturally inclined to connect as most people with ADD are, their shame and negativity can grow so intense as to lead them to cut themselves off.

If you feel this happening to you, do all you can to counteract it.  You may feel that all you want to do is to hide.  Try as hard as you can not to let yourself do that.  Talk to a friend.  Go see a therapist.  Pick up the telephone and call someone you trust.

Isolation develops gradually, almost imperceptibly, and you justify it to yourself as it happens.  “Those people are just a bunch of hypocrites.”  “They don’t really want me there.”  “I’m too tired.”  “I just want to stay at home and relax.”  “I need my down time.”  “My doctor told me to avoid stressful situations.”

Of course, isolation is better than the company of nasty, disapproving, shame-inducing witches and warlocks.  So, as you try to reconnect, do so judiciously.  One friend makes for a good start.  Have a regular lunch date.  Or a weekly squash game!

No Creative, Productive Outlet:  All of us do better when we are creatively and productively engaged in some activity. It doesn’t have to be overtly creative, like writing a poem or painting a portrait.  Almost any activity can become a productive outlet that you feel good about.  Cooking a meal certainly can be.  Even doing laundry can be.

How can doing laundry be fulfilling?  By turning it into a form of play, by turning it into a game.  Children show us how to do this all the time.  My 8-year-old son, Tucker, turns his bath into a creative activity every time he takes one.  He adds a few action figures and the game is on.

If you are willing to be a little silly and let yourself go, you can turn doing your laundry—or anything else for that matter—into a playful, creative activity.

The more you can do that the more likely the activity will turn into flow, a psychological term invented by the great pioneer of the psychology of happiness, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi.  Flow is the state of mind in which you lose awareness of time, of place, even of yourself, and you become one with what you’re doing.  In these states we are at our happiest as well as at our most effective.

The doorway to flow is play. You can play at anything you do. If you have ADD, play comes naturally to you.  So do it!

Play is deep.  Play changes the world.  Play can turn the most mundane of tasks into an activity you lose yourself in.  Play is not a silly, superficial activity.  By play, I mean creative engagement with whatever it is you are doing.  The opposite of play is doing exactly what you are told to do; that is the refuge of people who have attention surplus disorder.  For people who have ADD, play should come easily.  You just have to get shame, pessimism, and negativity out of the way and make sure you’re not so isolated that you get too depressed to play.

To get out of S.P.I.N., play.  As you play, you will find something you like to play at over and over again.  With any luck, it will have value to others.  That is called a great career: some form of play that someone else is willing to pay you to do.

At core, being stuck means not having a creative, productive outlet.  If you hook up to a creative outlet you can’t stay stuck.  Oh, sure, you can get blocked.  You can have periods of inactivity or frustration.  But then you will start to fiddle around—to play—and you will dislodge the block.

Adults with ADD who stagnate after starting treatment need to find some creative outlet to get going again. Everyone does better with such outlets, but for people with ADD they are essential for a fulfilling life.

Once you find a creative outlet, or several, you will be much more able to hook your waterfall up to a hydroelectric plant.  Don’t say you can’t find it.  That’s negativity speaking.  Get with someone who believes in you, or listen to the part of yourself that believes in you.  Brainstorm.  Try this. Try that.  You’ll find your hydroelectric plant.


ADHD – Disordered Minds or Old Souls?

ADHD – Disordered Minds or Old Souls?                 

By Thom Hartmann

Source – http://www.thomhartmann.com/forum/2010/07/adhd-disordered-minds-or-old-souls

This is such a cool story and fresh change of perspective!  I have to admit that I tried levitating after I read it.  I’m sorry to report I wasn’t able to.

I was in India in 1993 to help manage a community for orphans and blind children on behalf of a German charity. During the monsoon season, the week of the big Hyderabad earthquake, I took an all-day train ride almost all the way across the subcontinent (from Bombay through Hyderabad to Rajamundri) to visit an obscure town near the Bay of Bengal. In the train compartment with me were several Indian businessmen and a physician, and we had plenty of time to talk as the countryside flew by from sunrise to sunset.

Curious about how they viewed our children diagnosed as having Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), I asked, “Are you familiar with those types of people who seem to crave stimulation, yet have a hard time staying with any one focus for a period of time? They may hop from career to career and sometimes even from relationship to relationship, never seeming to settle into one job or into a life with one person — but the whole time they remain incredibly creative and inventive.”

“Ah, we know this type well,” one of the men said, the other three nodding in agreement.

“What do you call this personality type?” I asked.

“Very holy,” he said. “These are old souls, near the end of their karmic cycle.”

Again, the other three nodded agreement, perhaps a bit more vigorously in response to my startled look.

“Old souls?” I questioned, thinking that a very odd description for those whom American psychiatrists have diagnosed as having a particular disorder.

“Yes,” the physician said. “In our religion, we believe that the purpose of reincarnation is to eventually free oneself from worldly entanglement and desire. In each lifetime we experience certain lessons, until finally we are free of this earth and can merge into the oneness of God. When a soul is very close to the end of those thousands of incarnations, he must take a few lifetimes to do many, many things — to clean up the little threads left over from his previous lives.”

“This is a man very close to becoming enlightened,” a businessman added. “We have great respect for such individuals, although their lives may be difficult.”

Another businessman raised a finger and interjected. “But it is through the difficulties of such lives that the soul is purified.”

The others nodded agreement.

“In America they consider this behavior indicative of a psychiatric disorder,” I said.

All three looked startled, then laughed.

“In America you consider our most holy men, our yogis and swamis, to be crazy people as well,” said the physician with a touch of sadness in his voice. “So it is with different cultures. We live in different worlds.”