Sunday, January 25, 2009

Turning point.

I recently went to a doctor in Portland and was diagnosed with ADD. Did you know that it’s more inheritable than height? My sister’s got it, and chances are (from what I know of her) our birth mother has it, too. My one goal tomorrow is to call and make an appointment with a doctor (thank gad for health insurance) so I can get started on medication. I have never been a supporter of meds, aside from all the ibuprofen I eat to get through life with the dry twist. I was on Zoloft about seven years ago but it did nothing for me. That was, according to the doctor, a good indication that I’d been misdiagnosed as having panic disorder/depression. However, there is something wrong with my brain, and if medication can help me, I am all for it.

I had a bit of a cry afterward; nobody likes to hear there’s something wrong with their brain. But I was also relieved. All these years I thought I was stupid and crazy. All these years of beating myself up for not being able to figure out the simple stuff. And hey, I didn’t get fired from my last job for being forgetful - I got fired for having a disability. (ADHD is recognized as a disability under federal legislation -the Rehabilitation Act of 1973; the Americans With Disabilities Act; and the Individuals With Disabilities Education Act). And these last three months at my new job, driving home every night feeling like the dumbest person on the planet, not being able to remember codes and procedures two seconds after they’ve been explained to me. Sometimes I’ll get a sample that I’ve done a hundred times before and I’ll have absolutely no idea what to do with it. Nothing on the req form makes sense. I honestly thought I was stupid. The simplest things are so hard, so what other explanation can there be? I’ll leave a load of laundry in the dryer for a week instead of folding it and putting it away. I’ll walk past a fork on the kitchen floor ten times and it’ll never occur to me to pick it up and put it in the sink. My whole life is overwhelming.

But now I know it’s not my fault. My shit’s all fucked up but it’s nothing I did. It’s going to be hard, trying to figure my life out now, but at least I know what’s wrong and will soon have the tools to cope with it. Once I get it together, I'll be better able to focus on things. Which means I'll actually start running again. At this point, I'm just going to have to start all over, but that's OK. This is kind of like a new beginning, anyway.