In case you were wondering, I never did get that yard work done. Now it's at that awkward stage: the grass is dormant, so there's no rush. At least this year it's relatively low - last year it had gotten high enough to go to seed (not high, but raggedy) and then it reached the point where it was kind of embarrassing to let it go (the grass showed through what little snow we had) but also embarrassing to mow it ("HI EVERYBODY THIS IS ME RUNNING THE LAWNMOWER IN DECEMBER"). Anyway, I should get the garden put to bed so I can actually plant stuff just as soon as the weather allows next spring. I didn't do it this year and ended up just letting it lie fallow in what would have been a really good year. The garden and I both needed a rest, though.
If it isn't obvious by now, what with my blog topics being all over the map, I have Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. Didn't really realize it until we had a son, and he was diagnosed ADHD (and, eventually ASD). I read a book on ADHD parenting and when I got to the part about girls and ADHD and went "holy wow, that was me." I grew up hearing "you're in your own little world" (I was) and "if you cared about people, you'd remember X" (promises, birthdays, whatever). I think my mother feels kind of guilty about it, because she is the opposite of ADHD and just could not comprehend that my brain doesn't work like hers. I can't exactly blame her, being as how I was almost 40 before I realized what was going on. Girls didn't get ADHD, after all, I was by no means hyperactive (and son is what they call "primarily inattentive") and mostly it took the form of me reading all the time and shutting out the world.
Then the book had a chapter on AADD, and I realized "holy wow, that's STILL me." You don't necessarily outgrow ADHD, you just learn coping mechanisms. And I hadn't, entirely, because I was convinced I should be able to keep everything in my head all organized and stuff. Like Mom. So what the hey, I visited a psychiatrist. Got a formal confirmation that I'm mildly crazy, which is kind of paradoxical: it changes nothing, but knowing that there's a DSM-IV label, an explanation, a name for it makes it feel more normal. Apart from confirming that I really didn't have any of the co-morbidities (depression, substance abuse, etc.) that often go along with it, I didn't learn too much from the doc except the obvious: I need to build coping mechanisms, and that's what I've done for the last several years. I refer to my tablet as my "brain," and feel a lot freer in telling people, "If you don't see me write it down, it's not going to happen." I try not to use it as an excuse, but I'm not shy about enlisting help in keeping myself accountable.
I feel kinda dumb, in hindsight, trying for all those years to be "normal" and not just acknowledging that mayyyybe I should try something different. So the moral of the story is: go see a mental health professional sooner, not later.
Page created: 03 November 2014