I have ADHD. I was born this way. Apparently, I was also born with a predisposition for suffering depression and was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder 7 1/2 years ago.
Attention Deficit (Hyperactivity) Disorder is a crappy name. Who wants to be called Disordered? Even if we are all disordered in some way! Here’s a better name: VAS—Variable Attention Syndrome. Continue reading Battling disorder
from The Rosie Project:
“ ‘Is Gene all right?’ [Julie] asked. It was obviously a variant on that most common of formulaic interaction, ‘How are you?’
“ ‘He’s fine, thank you,’ I said, adapting the conventional reply to the third-person form.
“ ‘Oh. I thought he was ill.’
“ ‘Gene is in excellent health except for being six kilograms overweight. We went for a run this morning. He has a date tonight, and wouldn’t be able to go out if he was ill.’
“Julie seemed unimpressed, and in reviewing the interaction later, I realized that Gene must have lied to her about his reason for not being present. This was presumably to protect Julie from feeling that her lecture was unimportant to Gene and to provide a justification for a less prestigious speaker being sent as a substitute. It seems hardly possible to analyze such a complex situation involving deceit and supposition of another person’s emotional response, and then prepare your own plausible lie, all while someone is waiting for you to reply to a question. Yet that is exactly what people expect you to be able to do.”
(The Rosie Project, p. 8)
Adapting those last lines to my life would read thus: It hardly seems possible to keep track of and complete in a timely, consistent manner all that needs to be accomplished daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly. Yet that is exactly what people expect you to do.
Continue reading ADHD: Grieving for the person I wish I was
[March 11, 2014: I plan to write more on this topic as medication has played an important role in keeping the depression beast dormant.]
Depression is a beast within. Years ago in the midst of a depressive episode I sat on the living room couch during the twilight of the day. Outside, the trees were silhouetted against an indigo sky. The depression beast ate away at where emotion and purpose should have been found within me. On my lap lay my Bible, which I was reluctant to open. How can mere words on a page help? I wondered.
Continue reading The depression beast