And so this is Christmas...and what have you done...

I have a lot of things to say about Christmas and none of them have anything to do with one another, but the element of holy day. Holly day. Jolly day.

First, Christmas freaks me out. It's a big ol' clusterfuck of all the things that make people with ADHD (okay, perhaps I shouldn't generalize and we'll just apply this to my situation) freak out. Too much to do, too little money to do it, which requires extra time and money management, comes right at the time of year when heating prices go up (for those of us in northern, freezing-ass cold climates), it's an assault of the spiritual senses as we have to digest a multitude of equally baffling versions of what people think "it" means, crowds of people (families) get together and make lots of noise in one place and demand each others attention from 5 sides of the room at once, people who don't give a crap about charity the whole rest of the year can suddenly tell you what the world needs now...wow. It hurts my brain.

Last night I had a nice night with mom, dad, sis, sis's boyfriend, and my husband and the kids. It was really a great night but I will say this, holidays are simply overstimulating for me. Sonny commented that I seemed a little off. Correct on two counts. One, I am still recovering from a horrific version of the stomach flu that required me to be hopsitalized overnight last weekend and two, there was way too much going on. People talking everywhere, too loud, 800 kinds of food, moving mechanical dolls, children yelling and playing and laughing, two dogs running around like maniacs. I DID enjoy myself, but I am always aware, in situations like this, that I am overstimulated. Well now wait...I wasn't ALWAYS aware, I used to just feel weird and not understand why and it freaked me out. Now I get it, so even if I'm overstimulated, I'm not freaking out. If it's too much I go lay down for a bit.

Here's what I like about holidays:

Working retail. I love being busy and thinking on my feet. Voila...you have the retail holiday season. I'm speedy at the register and don't mind running from one end of the store to the other looking for ridiculous last minute shit.

Big hunks of meat and fatty cheese from faraway lands (or local, equally smelly versions). I used to be a vegetarian, but I'm hypoglycemic. Hypoglycemia plus ADHD=moody bitch. Big meat and cheeses=I can think, and my taste buds are happy.

Olives and pickles.

Those little, weird, almost unnoticed sad moments that most people gloss over. I feel weird ignoring them, so I don't. I say hello to homeless people. Melancholy is part of reality, even at the "happiest" time of the year. Someday I would like to do away, altogether, with the "Christmas Magic". It feels like we ignore what's really important for 11 months, and then we really REALLY ignore it for the month of December in the name of being jolly. Weird.

That said, Sonny bought me a gorgeous original painting. I love it. It was my favorite painting from an exhibit of a man who lives here in town. He moved here with his wife and children, from Iraq. They left because their oldest son was kidnapped and they'd given their life savings to buy his freedom...if he was taken again they would not be able to afford his freedom and he would likely have been killed, so they left. The father and the other son are truly gifted painters. The painting is called "The Seamstress". A beautiful woman, rendered in vibrant color, holds a sewing machine over her head. She's strong, she's empowered...she embodies everything I love about sewing.

Sonny also showed that he pays attention to his lady's ridiculous culinary and spiritual peculiarities with the following stocking stuffers:

lemon curd
OLIVES
chocolate-covered Spanish almonds
an orange

There's a Christmas story from the Little House on the Prairie book series, where the Ingalls family gets a visit from their friend, Mr. Edwards. The visit itself was a big deal in those days, because travel was such an ordeal, especially in the midwestern winter. But he brought an orange and a penny for each of the children and they were ecstatic! My mother pointed out, when I was a child, that the value of things can change depending on your situation...but that it's important to be grateful for even the little things. When I was a little girl, we always had an orange in the bottom of our stocking as a reminder. Orange: check!

And...I got a remote control helicopter from the kids. Superficially, this may seem like a cute gift that THEY really perhaps wanted for themselves, but no...no my friends...this was a special request. I wanted one bad. I crashed it about 12 times out in the yard before admitting that I really need to read the directions.

So it was a nice holiday. Step-daughter suggested that we have a food drive. I'm going to help her make that happen. What with the "Christmas Magic" out of the way for the year we can get around to making the kind of magic that the world really needs. And, as I've said throughout this economic downturn, you never know when YOU might be the person that needs the magic helping hand...

My cats thought I was a total asshole 'til I found that can of tuna...

I left the house for the specific purpose of buying cat food.

I returned with a remote control tarantula, night-vision spy binoculars, boys socks, a bag of bows, a sack of oranges and a roll of ribbon.

I got home and was very annoyed by the cats, spooling their way through my legs and trying to throw me down the basement stairs.

Suddenly I remembered what I'd forgotten. I pulled out my shopping list to compare intent to result. It read:

wrapping paper
bows

Sonny had mentioned the oranges on his way out the door.

Earlier today, when the two of us went out shopping together, I actually made a long, detailed list, we stuck to it, and we got a lot done, despite the asskicked state of my immune system (more on that later).

100% perfection is just not a realistic expectation.

I clawed my way through the cupboard and dug out a last can of tuna. I put it on a really nice gold-edged saucer to let them know I really cared.

Then I told Sonny that I'd left the remainder of our master to-do list on his sweater pile, so he wouldn't miss it. We both glanced to the sweater pile...where he'd just put his pants, right on top of the list, totally obscuring it. He pulled out the list...and we'll have to add "cat food" to it...

We all survived Day One of the great Adderall experiment.

I read a lot about ADHD, and even though I, myself, take the medication, I have read so many weird stories that other people have written that...well...I wasn't sure what to expect.

What I did not expect were tears of joy. (From the grownups, lol...)

The medication did not make her robotic...it did not make her anxious...it did not make her seem doped up...it did not kill her.

We first noticed that something different was happening when Sonny asked her to please turn the television down a couple of clicks in the middle of a Christmas movie and she simply reached forward and did it. Which means two things...one, that she HEARD him. Two that she didn't fight about it. One stone, two small miracles.

As the morning and day progressed, we witnessed some shocking things:

Our little girl played with her brothers.
She made her bed and lined her stuffed animals up arm in arm on the bed together.
She wrote a play about "emajunashun". It was a musical.
She heard us when we spoke and often smiled big when she did.
She actively engaged in conversation instead of argument.
She respected other people's personal space.
She smiled. She smiled.
She noticed when she could "do better" and seemed content to try again instead of freak out and deny caring.
She NOTICED other people instead of colliding with them at hyperspeed. And she looked delighted by it.

And for the first time since I met this child...she relaxed. The whole energy of her body changed. The whole energy of our home changed. It made me very reflective about the usual level of chaos we live with.

She does not usually play with her brothers...not for very long anyway. What starts as play often devolves into badgering, bossing, insulting, yelling and "accidentally" hurting people.

Cleaning her room is something we generally do together, she and I, and we have a system, and it works...but it's very stressful for her. On that day, she needed guidance because she was 8, not because she was overwhelmed.

She was not at war with her environment. She was comfortable in her body.

She kept saying "I feel good. I feel happy.".
She said "I feel happy. I feel calm. Is this how your medicine makes you feel too?".
I said "When I don't take it, I feel like the whole world is screaming at me. When I do take it, I feel much better.".
She exclaimed "Now you know what I feel like ALL THE TIME!".

Both myself and Sonny were moved immensely by watching a child, maybe for the first time in her life, spend a whole day not feeling like she's under attack.

And it was moving as well, to witness it from the outside, after experiencing it from the inside.

We got to experience the "her" that we only experience about 20% of the time...on that day, those wonderful parts were 80% of her, because her personality was no longer obscured by fear, overwhelm, and inability to hear the world around her.

I already knew that something was wrong with the logic of the MEDICATION WILL RUIN YOUR LIFE AND YOUR CHILD people. Now...a part of me is genuinely angry with that perspective, because I really and truly feel that not trying every tool that may help is child abuse.

This was only day one. We have a lot to learn and so does our wee girl. But for her to not have had this chance, even just for one day, to see that life doesn't have to be such a struggle...would be shameful.

The experiment begins...

...stepdaughter starts medication for ADHD tomorrow. She's been genuinely struggling in keeping up at school and her bio-parents really just want to see if this will be a useful tool for her. In third grade you're really starting to learn a lot of important basics that are building blocks for other things, and if you miss them then, you struggle to catch up later. I know this from personal experience...not saddling the kid with my baggage, just demonstrating that these things DO happen...

She's starting a teeeeeeny weeeeeeny dose. Her dad is VERY med sensitive like I am, so they want to try her on it very gradually. Can't remember which drug (go figure). She's a little nervous about it (she's working on managing her anxiety too, lol, although non-medication strategies seem to work well for her there...sorry, I shouldn't lol about that but it's funny to have so many people with similar issues in one house)...so I showed her my methylphenidate and explained that I take it for MY ADHD symptoms. And assured her that if it makes her feel bad, that nobody will make her keep taking it...that her parents just want to see if it's a tool that will help her feel a little better and feel a little better at school. She told me recently that she has to "sit at the back of the room to finish her schoolwork with the other stupid kids" so she's clearly already aware of her differences, but not in a good way.

She also said "WHAT IF IT MAKES ME MORE ANXIOUS!!!" and I said "maybe it will, maybe it won't, if it does, I can't imagine anyone will make you keep taking it". She said "BUT YOU DON'T HAVE ANXIETYYYYYY!!!". I said oh yes...yes, I do. (I don't generally dwell on my ADHD treatment with the kids...that would just be weird and inappropriate, but at this moment, sharing seemed helpful.) She said, "oh". Told her how I tried some medications for ADHD that DID make me feel more anxious, but that now I take one that does not. And that the only way to find out is to try it. She seemed okay with that...and willing to try. Honestly, her biggest concern, when I showed her my pills seemed to be "DO THEY TASTE BAD!?".

So I thought it was important for her to understand that a) she's not stupid b) someone she looks up to take medication for their ADHD c) nobody will make her do something that will make her feel bad and d) if it works, it might be a very good tool for her.

We'll see how it goes :)

Pray for me...

...I'm creating a bill paying schedule for the Rollins Household.

Stop laughing. I'm not terrible with money, and it makes me feel good to "get things on track".

I think this will make our lives a lot easier actually. And thanks to my iPhone and its handy alerts, technology will actively remind me to make sure the bills get paid.

There's always a little excitement for the ADHDer embarking on a new organizational project though, isn't there? And a percentage of that excitement is best described as nervousness :)

So...just a wee prayer (there are way bigger problems in the world that need bigger prayers) ...and I'll let you all know how it turns out!

Sometimes Success is Scarier Than Failure...

Some issues that may ring "real" to my fellow ADHDers:

1) Fear of failure.

We have trouble trusting ourselves sometimes don't we? Especially when we want something very badly...especially when we have disappointed ourselves before (even when this disappointment bears no relations to how others actually viewed our performance).

2) Fear of success...

If you succeed, by really throwing yourself into something and putting yourself out there, then people will see who you REALLY are...and maybe when they do, they won't LIKE YOU. Ouch. This possibility is scarier than failing.

3) Fear of being "found out".

Despite my intelligence, achievement, and resourcefulness, I often feel that I am a fraud, that I am not smart, not capable, not intelligent, and when "they" all find out (I have no idea who "they" are, of course), that'll be it. EVERYONE will know...my house of cards will fall...even though nobody else really gives a crap or even feels this way, at least not about MY house of cards.

I identify and tear at the roots of my anxiety. It's dirty work...and it's the kind of dirt you can't just wash off easily. It takes work to really get it out from under your nails. And it's not the kind of thing that nortriptyline can just cart away the whole of. Anxiety winds through the deepest folds of my brain, spider-webbing dreams and memories and worries together, and leading them to the surface. Nortriptyline allows mental effort the chance to interfere, and redirect the energy.

I rip a weed out with an emphatic affirmation of my intelligence...but the dirt discolors my fingers, despite the relief in my mind. And you know how weeds are...if you miss a bit, they may grow back, and you may have to try again, but if you're paying attention, it won't be so big the next time (hopefully) and it's easier to manage. You seen it before, you know what it is...perhaps you've named it "that fucker with the big fat leaves, with the large middle root" or "oh, I remember this one, it wasn't so bad, the roots are shallow". It can seem that the pulling is the important part, but I find that the remembering and the naming are the most critical task...THAT information is what tells you your best approach, how hard to pull, if you may need additional tools.

Sometimes it's hard to think of it all that way...as ongoing work. But any halfway civilized garden requires work. And the work creates space for pretty things to grow.

Jenny Lewis and Fear of Failure

Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins' song, Rise Up With Fists has rallied me many a morning, comforted and inspired me in many a humble moment, lit a fire under many a project.

I used to torture myself every morning with The Smiths' "You Just Haven't Earned It Yet Baby". But it didn't feel like torture...it motivated me to keep going, to move past whatever was bothering me, with the hope that with just a little more persistence, I could rally and eventually win. Says a lot about my frame of mind, that I had to hit myself over the head like that...

Rise Up With Fists is a different experience. Several experiences, really. "...there but for the Grace of God go I", although I'm not religious, reminds me that none of us is perfect, nobody is perfectly lucky, and that any of us could find ourselves in the throes of those unfortunate moments and circumstances that nobody can control. Even our best grasp on control is limited to that which is in our hands at a given moment, and snakish issues writhe from our hands anyway.

However, toward the end of the song, Jenny turns a corner with "...but I still believe...and I will rise up with fists...and I will take what's mine, mine, mine...". As a response to the entire rest of the song, it's clear that this is not a declaration of selfish greed, but one of realization...that despite all this, we can and should still act to better our lives, make better choices, and give ourselves fully to life in a spirit of imperfect but inspired action.

Mmmmm, inspired action. Inspired action eats false prophets for dinner without leaving the bones of the soul behind. And I think my new soundtrack is a better choice...