The Story Of A Girl

I think I have finally figured out what is wrong with me;  not just the ADHD, not just the mild depression symptoms, not even the occasional bout with anxiety, but what is really wrong with me.  I believe I have found the reasons for WHY I behave the way I do, WHY I feel the way I do, even WHY I struggle the way I do.  Because isn’t that all we really want;  an explanation for our shortcomings, a reason for our bad behavior, or maybe just somewhere to place blame.  Regardless, an explanation is long overdue.  And digging deep into my past, I just may have found one!

Inconsistent doesn’t even begin to describe my up-bringing.  To say that I had NO idea what I was walking into, on a daily basis, would be an understatement!  Don’t get me wrong;  I grew up in a clean, calm, financially sound environment. And everything tangible was good;  plenty of food in the fridge, a new car to ride in, and all the playthings I could ever ask for… BUT, emotionally, I was completely and absolutely neglected.  At pivotal points in my childhood, where caring, understanding, an nurturing should have been ever-present, I faced loneliness, heartache, and fear.  When I was a  very young girl, about 3 or 4,  I remember all I ever wanted her to do was wake up.  My fragile mind just couldn’t understand why she wasn’t like other moms.  I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t stay awake for me, I spent my days watching her sleep, and wondering why I wasn’t important enough to her… Deep feelings of loneliness, fear and insecurities began to develop.  Extreme bouts of sadness and crying spells became who I was;  an innocent, yet very damaged child.   I had no one else to care for me, as my only siblings were much, much older.   My father was always gone on business trips, or on a golf outing.  As an adult, I realize what he was running from.

Believe me, there were good days, and this is where the inconsistencies really show up.  On good days, mom was awake.  I’d walk in the door from grammar school and there she’d be, awake, alert and wonderful.  The mom I always wanted, we’d talk and laugh and go to the local 5 and dime store.  I really cherished the good days and I  looked forward to them as they were few and far between.  Most days, though, she was in her own world.  Her escape from reality was a comfort for her, I suppose.  And it wasn’t until I was an adult, that I realized her sleepiness was due to benzodiazipine abuse.  When she’d use, she’d  pass out, and I’d be left all alone.  Fear and emotional neglect is what I faced, constantly.  I craved companionship with her, I just wanted her to wake up!  As she’d snooze, I’d practice taking her earrings in and out of her ears, she wouldn’t even stir.  Those were the days when I’d be locked out of the house, crying on the back porch, because she couldn’t hear me knocking.  Those were the days when the prescription of pills would run out, now the only way she can cope is to drink.  The thing is…. what couldn’t she cope with?  In my childs’ mind I knew it must be my fault.  Maybe if i could be a really, really good girlI’d be worth staying awake for.  No such luck, her addiction to alcohol and benzos spanned her whole lifetime; absolutely and definitely affecting mine.

Some days, however, she wasn’t there at all. You see, years and years (even before I was born) had caused irreversible damage to my mothers intestines, and every 4-6 weeks she’d be in the hospital for 5 or so days.  It was horrible!  Those were the days when I’d come home from school and my older sister would be there at my house waiting for me. As, soon as I’d see her, I’d instantaneously feel my throat close up and my eyes start to tear.  I just knew her presence meant that my mom was in the hospital, again and that I’d be staying at her house.  Even now, it’s hard for me to describe the feelings I had when she was gone.  Neglectful, or not, she was my beloved mommy and  she was my world.  I would be completely devastated each and every time her health drove her to hospitalization and I had to stay at my sisters house. I would sit for hours, just inside the threshold of her house, with my heavy, winter coat on.  I would refuse to take it off cause then that would mean that I was comfortable with staying there, and I absolutely was NOT.  The feelings were mutual, I was nothing more than an inconvenience to my sister and her new family. That was evident in the was I was treated.  I was a little girl, whose mom was in the hospital.  Did I get hugged, held and reassured?  Um, no.  In fact, I was teased and ridiculed.  My feelings were never validated, just brushed off like I was a bratty, crybaby.   And so I hoped, in my little head, that if I kept my coat on, I’d be going home soon.  My coat and my belongings became my only link to my home and my mom, so I guarded them, viciously.  All I wanted was my mommy, and I  cried for her relentlessly.  wp-image-772939006

So, in considering all this trauma, and very deep seeded emotional damage, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am incapable of deep, bonded, long lasting relationships.  I am forever in self-protect mode. My heart was broken long before I even understood what love was.  I was broken, emotionally, by those who were supposed to love me the most.  What exactly does that do to a person you ask?  Well, it breeds a fear of intimacy, it causes an intense craving for attention and validation, it harbors insecurity, and it destroys any feeling of self worth.  How could my only mother intentionally sleep through my entire childhood, and be so oblivious to the pain she was causing her little girl?  Why didn’t anyone see what was going on? Why wasn’t I worth more? Why is that the hand life dealt me? Why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t you love me enough?

I could ask questions all day and it doesn’t matter now, the damage has been done.  I’m just sorry to all the wonderful people in my life who have tried to love me, yet got nothing in return.  My heart is buried somewhere inside me, I don’t wear it on my sleeve.  It was broken a long, long time ago and I don’t know if it will ever be whole again. Those who reared me, failed me.  I cry for the little girl inside me, and I protect her with all that I am because no one else did.

I never learned how to love, how to show love.  A hug, to you,  may feel like a warm, loving, reassuring embrace.  To me, a hug is an uncomfortable invasion of personal space.  Sad, isn’t it?  This comes from an adult that wasn’t loved on or hugged as a child. This also comes from an adult that is tired of all the failed relationships in her life and tired of not feeling worthy.  I have learned to live in self-protect mode, and that is a very shallow existence. It’s a very lonely place to be.    Thanks for your interest. God Bless!

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The Story Of A Girl

I think I have finally figured out what is wrong with me;  not just the ADHD, not just the mild depression symptoms, not even the occasional bout with anxiety, but what is really wrong with me.  I believe I have found the reasons for WHY I behave the way I do, WHY I feel the way I do, even WHY I struggle the way I do.  Because isn’t that all we really want;  an explanation for our shortcomings, a reason for our bad behavior, or maybe just somewhere to place blame.  Regardless, an explanation is long overdue.  And digging deep into my past, I just may have found one!

Inconsistent doesn’t even begin to describe my up-bringing.  To say that I had NO idea what I was walking into, on a daily basis, would be an understatement!  Don’t get me wrong;  I grew up in a clean, calm, financially sound environment. And everything tangible was good;  plenty of food in the fridge, a new car to ride in, and all the playthings I could ever ask for… BUT, emotionally, I was completely and absolutely neglected.  At pivotal points in my childhood, where caring, understanding, an nurturing should have been ever-present, I faced loneliness, heartache, and fear.  When I was a  very young girl, about 3 or 4,  I remember all I ever wanted her to do was wake up.  My fragile mind just couldn’t understand why she wasn’t like other moms.  I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t stay awake for me, I spent my days watching her sleep, and wondering why I wasn’t important enough to her… Deep feelings of loneliness, fear and insecurities began to develop.  Extreme bouts of sadness and crying spells became who I was;  an innocent, yet very damaged child.   I had no one else to care for me, as my only siblings were much, much older.   My father was always gone on business trips, or on a golf outing.  As an adult, I realize what he was running from.

Believe me, there were good days, and this is where the inconsistencies really show up.  On good days, mom was awake.  I’d walk in the door from grammar school and there she’d be, awake, alert and wonderful.  The mom I always wanted, we’d talk and laugh and go to the local 5 and dime store.  I really cherished the good days and I  looked forward to them as they were few and far between.  Most days, though, she was in her own world.  Her escape from reality was a comfort for her, I suppose.  And it wasn’t until I was an adult, that I realized her sleepiness was due to benzodiazipine abuse.  When she’d use, she’d  pass out, and I’d be left all alone.  Fear and emotional neglect is what I faced, constantly.  I craved companionship with her, I just wanted her to wake up!  As she’d snooze, I’d practice taking her earrings in and out of her ears, she wouldn’t even stir.  Those were the days when I’d be locked out of the house, crying on the back porch, because she couldn’t hear me knocking.  Those were the days when the prescription of pills would run out, now the only way she can cope is to drink.  The thing is…. what couldn’t she cope with?  In my childs’ mind I knew it must be my fault.  Maybe if i could be a really, really good girlI’d be worth staying awake for.  No such luck, her addiction to alcohol and benzos spanned her whole lifetime; absolutely and definitely affecting mine.

Some days, however, she wasn’t there at all. You see, years and years (even before I was born) had caused irreversible damage to my mothers intestines, and every 4-6 weeks she’d be in the hospital for 5 or so days.  It was horrible!  Those were the days when I’d come home from school and my older sister would be there at my house waiting for me. As, soon as I’d see her, I’d instantaneously feel my throat close up and my eyes start to tear.  I just knew her presence meant that my mom was in the hospital, again and that I’d be staying at her house.  Even now, it’s hard for me to describe the feelings I had when she was gone.  Neglectful, or not, she was my beloved mommy and  she was my world.  I would be completely devastated each and every time her health drove her to hospitalization and I had to stay at my sisters house. I would sit for hours, just inside the threshold of her house, with my heavy, winter coat on.  I would refuse to take it off cause then that would mean that I was comfortable with staying there, and I absolutely was NOT.  The feelings were mutual, I was nothing more than an inconvenience to my sister and her new family. That was evident in the was I was treated.  I was a little girl, whose mom was in the hospital.  Did I get hugged, held and reassured?  Um, no.  In fact, I was teased and ridiculed.  My feelings were never validated, just brushed off like I was a bratty, crybaby.   And so I hoped, in my little head, that if I kept my coat on, I’d be going home soon.  My coat and my belongings became my only link to my home and my mom, so I guarded them, viciously.  All I wanted was my mommy, and I  cried for her relentlessly.  wp-image-772939006

So, in considering all this trauma, and very deep seeded emotional damage, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am incapable of deep, bonded, long lasting relationships.  I am forever in self-protect mode. My heart was broken long before I even understood what love was.  I was broken, emotionally, by those who were supposed to love me the most.  What exactly does that do to a person you ask?  Well, it breeds a fear of intimacy, it causes an intense craving for attention and validation, it harbors insecurity, and it destroys any feeling of self worth.  How could my only mother intentionally sleep through my entire childhood, and be so oblivious to the pain she was causing her little girl?  Why didn’t anyone see what was going on? Why wasn’t I worth more? Why is that the hand life dealt me? Why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t you love me enough?

I could ask questions all day and it doesn’t matter now, the damage has been done.  I’m just sorry to all the wonderful people in my life who have tried to love me, yet got nothing in return.  My heart is buried somewhere inside me, I don’t wear it on my sleeve.  It was broken a long, long time ago and I don’t know if it will ever be whole again. Those who reared me, failed me.  I cry for the little girl inside me, and I protect her with all that I am because no one else did.

I never learned how to love, how to show love.  A hug, to you,  may feel like a warm, loving, reassuring embrace.  To me, a hug is an uncomfortable invasion of personal space.  Sad, isn’t it?  This comes from an adult that wasn’t loved on or hugged as a child. This also comes from an adult that is tired of all the failed relationships in her life and tired of not feeling worthy.  I have learned to live in self-protect mode, and that is a very shallow existence. It’s a very lonely place to be.    Thanks for your interest. God Bless!

The Only One

I haven’t written for a while. I’ve actually had a lot going on in my life to blog about, I just haven’t had the motivation.  And what is my motivation now, you wonder… I wonder too. Is it my ever-present need for validation of my feelings, or is it just my need to connect with others out there, like me, who have ADHD and feel like they are THE ONLY ONE..  The Only One to have feelings of emptiness that nothing can fill, the need to escape reality by any means necessary because that’s what you were taught.  The Only One who feels that they are totally unworthy of the love that those around them give.  The Only One who feels that a bad relationship is better than no relationship at all; or that ,once again, reality is just too painful too bear.  The Only One who decides what is right and what is wrong in their life.  The Only One who is left in the dark much of the time; The Only One who thinks everything is okay amidst a world of chaos.  And The Only One who feels these feelings is me; because here, in my world, I AM THE ONLY ONE.

Impending Doom: What Anxiety Feels Like To Me

It starts with a thought, a small worry, a slight gesture or change in mood or emotion.  It all begins innocently enough.  Then, the small fluttering in my stomach starts to happen.  The slight shakiness starts way down deep in my core, then radiates out to the tips of my fingers.  As the grave thoughts and feelings get more unavoidable, the fluttering in my stomach turns into a feeling of strong vibration.  Unlike nausea, this feeling is unwavering.  The shaking is getting worse and the sweating begins.  My pupils are now dilated as I am completely, physically, terrified.  The emotions  that accompany these intense physical symptoms are terrifying in themselves.  Every irrational fear is amplified as thoughts of dying are now consuming me.  I must be dying, I feel so out-of-control, detached, alone, AFRAID!  If I’m not dying, I must, because these feelings are now too much to bear!  I have ENORMOUS amounts of empathy for anyone who suffers from anxiety attacks.  They are HELL.

My Reality

I don’t even have the attention span to keep this blog going! LOL   Since I have so much trouble writing in this blog consistantly, I’m letting my son stand in for a featured post.

 

Salutations! My name is Chaisten and I’m kid #3 (but really I’m #1 because let’s be real). Anyway, I’m 17 years old and I just recently moved back in with my Mother. Moving back in with my Mom has shown me a lot about my own ADHD. I was just recently diagnosed because it hasn’t really been a problem for me until my recent years. When I was younger I was very high functioning and because of my intelligence I made up for my focus issues in my ability to understand and comprehend. Now being in highschool, it takes longer to be able to understand the topics and I can’t focus for long enough to do it.

Something I’ve learned that I don’t think too many people understand is how severely ADHD can affect people. “Well it’s just a focus issue it doesn’t really do too much.” Well actually it does. Not having an ability to keep focus on something spans deeper than just not focusing on a project or a conversation. It can affect serious things like your mental sanity and decision making. Making important life decisions can be devastating with severe ADHD because you can’t focus on any decision enough to fully comprehend it. It goes back to understanding concepts and ideas. To truly take in something, I feel, takes some time. With ADHD your time you have to focus is ridiculously divided so it takes ten times longer. With your focus jumping to every object in a visual radius there’s nothing you can do but go with it. You are forced to take breaks and come back, your focus won’t have it any other way. It’s kind of like your focus is out to get you. People could tell you to get back to it and remind you all they want but if your focus isn’t there you really can’t chase it down.

Relaxation. Time everyone needs at least a little bit of. Just some time to yourself so you can clear your mind and focus on your thoughts. Oh wait, we have ADHD. Finding the time to align your focus and your conscience thought process enough to actually enjoy the serenity is close to impossible. It’s part of the battle between what you want to focus on and what you are able to focus on. The relationship between your conscience thought and your focus is like a spectrum. 0 – 100. 100 being optimum level. Reaching 100 is when your focus is fully agreeing and working with your conscience thought. Hitting 0 is when you can’t focus at all. Either it’s too busy bouncing around to settle somewhere or you just can’t find it, your focus is just shit. I’d say, but I’m no doctor or anything so don’t quote me, most people stay around 85-100. With ADHD the whole spectrum is visible and we are constantly bouncing around it.

So those were both just little focus blots I thought of. I hope this helps someone understand just a little bit more about the realness of ADHD. Let me know if you liked this blog maybe I’ll write some things of my own?

Sincerely,

Chaisten

 

 

Kindness Matters

If you’re in a crappy mood, keep it to yourself. Don’t be the dark cloud  over everyones sunshine!  Attempt to shed some of your bad attitude by feeling the warmth of someone close. Quit pushing them away or away they’ll stay.  Be nice even if you don’t feel like it, kindness is contagious.   And always remember the golden rule! Treat people with kindness and warmth. Respect is earned, be fair. And, above all, never judge anyone, your opinion is not their fate! 

BPD And Me? 

I have been doing a lot of self evaluating lately resulting from another huge mistake made by me. Mistakes are common in the life of an ADDer, but the risky behaviors I display are not. Oh, don’t get me wrong, my diagnosis of ADHD is accurate, bit I truly believe there is something more.

Due to my traumatic childhood and my inability to communicate my feelings accurately, I think I may be struggling with BPD.  I will be seeking a professional dx next week.

Thanks for reading, God bless!

Defining Diagnosis

I am the face of adult ADHD.  I am defined by my diagnosis.  My whole personality and outlook comes from an exhausting list of symptoms and shortcomings.  ADHD is funny like that, the symptom list describes sufferers to a tee.  I’m not nice, thoughtful, and caring; instead, I’m disorganized, impulsive, and inattentive.

Why does it have to be this way?  Is it that I really am just a walking disorder?  Too many times I’ve tried to be “better”, I just can’t.  This is me, a tangled up mess of issues and complications.  Quirky and funny at times, but always anxious about “blowing it” in front of people.  I try to hide my ADHD, try to pay attention when someone is talking, and try to be a good friend.  It just doesn’t work out for me.  My inability to stay focused has ruined a lot, of what could have been, good friendships.  I like people, I’m just not well liked in return.  Breaks my heart and causes me great angst.

I want to be defined for who I am, not for my disability.

…and who I am is an adult with ADHD.Snapchat-1178210889

My Day

Hello readers!  Hope everyone is well, cause, thank goodness, I am.  I was having some bouts of extreme anxiety,  For now, the hell of it has subsided.  Plus, I have been trying to be more productive the last few days.  And even though, I’ve not gotten a lot done, I’ve accomplished some.  That makes me proud of myself, which seems to help the anxiety.  I also started using a vape pen.  I know it may not be the best thing for me but it seems to take the edge off my nerves.  Buying the JUUL was kind of an impulsive purchase but I like it.  Thanks ADHD!

I am also excited tonight as my family will be getting together with some friends we haven’t seen for a while.  A campfire, Seagram’s, and good friends! Priceless!

Writing Woes

I’ve been absent from here for a bit because I’m in a writing rut again.  I was very excited about my last post, but since then, I’m having writers block again.  So, I just thought I’d start typing and just see what comes out.  I have been really struggling with anxiety lately.  It is horrible, it reminds me of that quote that says, “depression is when you care about nothing, anxiety is where you care too much about everything, and having both is hell”.  I feel as if I am writing in a diary for everyone too see, maybe that is why it is hard for me to get my feelings out effectively.  Or maybe its because I’m misunderstood so often that I’ve decided to clam up.  Regardless, I know that it is better for me to talk and write about my feelings than to keep them bottled up. This blog should be my therapy. I should just start pouring my heart out.  If I only knew where to start…