Are You A Good Receiver Of Gifts? (follow up)

I realized today that sometimes a simple “thank you” IS enough.  I learned that there are some people that truly believe in paying-it-forward; folks that have been blessed and wish to be a blessing to someone else. Genuine people are so hard to find these days that we doubt their intentions when they offer help.  We (I) might feel unworthy of such gifts, but to the giver, we have enough worth to be helped.
Today I felt unworthy,but by the end of today, I felt that I was worth more than gold.

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Are You A Good Receiver Of Gifts?

My husband and I have had some financial difficulties recently.  We’re making it month to month, but just barely.  A friend of my husband’s has decided to help ease our burden this month and pay to have our car and truck plates renewed.  This is very kind of him and will help tremendously.  The problem is that I have no idea how to accept this help. Just ‘thank you’ is probably enough but, honestly, I’d rather him not help at all.  Its not his problem.  My parents help a lot and I am so thankful, but it is different when your peers want to help.
Now instead of being ‘equal’,  I feel like we’re beneath them. I already have issues with this due to my ADD.  I am in a very uncomfortable place today.  I just don’t know how to accept a gift that doesn’t have strings attached. I’m only going along with this for my husband’s sake.  I, personally, am embarrassed and humiliated that we are in a financial mess. Though out fininancial issue is because my husband got very sick and couldn’t work.
Is “thanks” enough?

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Living With And Loving My ADD

At 27 years old, I was diagnosed with ADD. I was relieved to finally know what was wrong with me. I was never able to get myself going in life; in relationships, in parenting, in college.  All that spinning-my-stationary-tires took a toll and caused me great angst.  I was depressed, to say the least, and frustrated.  Why on earth couldn’t I get it together and be a productive part of society, as it seemed all my peers were.

A moment of realization occurred when I first started taking ADD medication,  the medication made me more mainstream, but they took away some of the positives of this “disorder”.  With one swift swallow of a pill, all of my creativity and out-of-the-box thoughts and ideas were gone!  Sure the medicine did exactly what it was supposed to do, but at what cost?  Do I want to be creative or calm, sociable or quiet?  Literally it’s like one extreme or the other.

At the end of the day, I have to be able to accept myself!  That was much of the problem; I was trying so hard to be more “mainstream” like everyone else; that made self-acceptance impossible. So now I’ve learned to love ME, ADD and all!

Home Alone

I’m sharing this story because I have recently become aware that it could have something to do with my diagnosis.  Whether or not it does, it is still a childhood trauma that I ‘survived’, but not without some lasting effects.

Being home alone at night is one thing when you’re an adult, try it when you’re 4!  It was a very cold , dark night back in the winter of 1979.  I forget the exact date, sometime in January, I think.  My mother had tucked me into bed and kissed me goodnight.  A few hours later, about 2-3a.m., I awoke, as usual.  This was a common thing for me, I found myself at the foot of my parents bed quite often.  But this night was different; my parents weren’t in their bed!  I immediately began screaming for my mom. “Mommy, mommy!!”  No answer.  I was scared out of my wits! I ran around the pitch black house screaming and turning on every lamp and light switch that I could reach. I went to my older brother Greg’s bedroom door and banged and banged on it; no answer!  I remember being terrified beyond belief; I was just 4 years old and home alone in the middle of the night!

There was about 6 inches of snow on the ground and more lightly falling, it was probably 20-30 degrees outside, typical of a Michigan winters’ night.  I had rationalized in my young mind that my mom must have gone to Hamady’s (out local grocery store).  My mother practically lived there.  She ran to Hamady’s on a daily basis for bread or milk, and I always went with her.  And at that moment I decided that’s where I was going to look for her!  I frantically ran to my bedroom to get dressed.  I found a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a t-shirt, that I put on backwards.  I tried to be brave as I prepared to head out into the cold to walk the 2 mile walk to the grocery store;  all the while crying hysterically.

Just as I opened the big, heavy front door, I saw headlights coming up the driveway.  My mother flew out of the car and cradled me in her arms.  My dad, on the other hand, wanted to kill my brother!  He had been given strict orders not to shut his bedroom door just in case I woke up.  My mother had gone to the airport to pick my father up from a late night business flight.  I sobbed for most of the rest of that night and I don’t think I’ve ever been the same since.

After that incident, I became very attached to my mother; So much so that I was kicked out of preschool, because I cried for her the whole time.  When I started kindergarten, I became attached to a playmate of mine, and even though she was in kindergarten also, she was my ‘surrogate’ mom.  I used to tell my mom that when she died I’d bury her under the house so I could sleep next to her.  Needless to say, my attachment was slightly unhealthy.  I wonder if I have suffered permanent damage from that experience.  When you read this, it may not seem like a big trauma, but to a 4year old little girl, being home alone was a nightmare!