Saturday, November 19, 2011

NaBloPoMo #19 - Getting personal

Two years.

It's been almost two years of ...adjusting.  Yelling.  Crying.  Lots of understanding.  Lots.  Probably could use a lot more actually.

Two years of medication daily.

Two years of questioning why, and wishing for a healing unlike anything I've ever heard or read about.

Two years.

I haven't necessarily kept it a secret.  There are friends who know.  To everyone else around me, it's just that he has his own special set of "quirkiness" that we deal with...on a daily, on-going, continual basis.  Some days are really, really good.  And then there are days...entire weekends, when I just want to crawl back in bed and say forget the whole thing.  I quit!  Figure it out yourself.

The thing is...he's an incredibly sweet kid.  I never really understood the phrase "wearing your heart on your sleeve" until I realized, oh...that's my kid.  He has a heart so big...and emotions that are so strong, that they can't help but ride on the surface for all to see.  He can be caring and loving (like having his entire class sign a card he made for his little sister when she fell off her bike and landed face-first on the sidewalk).  There are days when he's helpful and giving (doing chores without being asked and helping his little brother).  And then there are other days...

Days like Friday when he came home from school and burst through the door in a huff, throwing his backpack on the ground, and in a tear-filled voice exclaiming that "I know you and dad are going to ground me but I failed my math test, ok?!?!"  (Ummm...hello to you too.  Bad day today?)  I've learned that when his emotions are high like that...just let him ride it out on his own.  And he did.  

As his mother, I fought the diagnosis with everything I had in me.  Okay, yes - there's an obvious lack of focus in school...but you should see him glued to his computer games!  He's focused!!  (I know...wrong kind of focus.)  And hyperactive?   I have yet to see him climb any walls, swing from any chandeliers, or swing through the air or go into a complete meltdown tantrum that involves completely losing control.  (Apparently the hyperactivity is inside his brain, not a physical kind)

Add to this his difficulty in relating one-on-one with others (which makes establishing meaningful friendships, difficult at best), his sometimes inability to maintain an intelligent conversation on topic with other people,  his uncanny ability to have an apparent conversation with himself in his head and then blurt, out-of-the-blue, what he last said to himself (often leaving me to figure out what conversation he was having in the first place and who exactly it was that he was answering!).

Sometimes we deal with the frustration together, sometimes we laugh at the apparent silliness together.  And sometimes, late at night, after he's gone to bed and I can just sit, wonder, and worry how my son will make it as a functioning adult in the world one day...I'll cry alone and just beg God to heal him now. 

ADHD ... I hate it with everything I have inside of me.

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