On top of trying for the last eight years to get answers to properly help my son I’ve been trying to get answers for myself as well.
I knew growing up that my brain was different than everyone around me, but I didn’t know how or why.
I was just as smart as everyone else in my family, but it always took me a longer time to learn the information at school, I always failed the tests, even when I knew the information. I had a teachers assistant in 5th grade (Actually my second year of 5th grade) that noticed early in the year that I was a visual and hands in learner, just hearing the information was not going to make it stick. So she helped me learn how to take notes in a way that worked for me, and I became AMAZING at it, because it was just like organizing, which was one of my favorite things to do!
Making friends was hard for me. I had a large circle of people I considered friends, but it was painfully obvious that my relationships with them was different than how they were with the rest of the friends in the group. I remember one Christmas it was really hit home how different the relationships were. I had saved up for months to make sure I could buy the perfect little gift for all the girls in my circle, there were about eight I think, and as the day went on and I handed out the gifts I kept hearing the same thing from all of them “I’m so sorry, I ran out of money before I could buy your gift.” The one person I knew had no money was the only one who got me something, and she made it. She’s been my best friends for 21 years now.
I didn’t handle change very well growing up either. If I knew something was going to be happening and all of the sudden it wasn't, I had a very hard time controlling my reactions to it. It usually resulted in me exploding because that was the only way that made sense for me to react, even though I knew as I was doing it, that it was the wrong reaction. One time, when I was 17, my mom got me a Mexican pizza on her way home from work, it had tomatoes on it, which I couldn’t stand then, and I lost it. All I could do was throw it on the floor and jump on it while screaming at my mom that she knew I hated tomatoes. As soon as I started I couldn’t stop myself and I knew it was the wrong way to react, but it was the only way I could react.
I remember always feeling like things around me were out of control, no matter what I did, and I tried to find ways to feel like I was in control. One of the only ways I was able to do that with paper. My note papers, or any other paper I had, had to stay in perfect condition. They couldn’t have an creases, folds, smudges, changed in handwriting, anything. If they did then I had to rewrite whatever was on it, even if it was multiple pages worth. Everything had to be clean, perfect, and the same. I used to drive teachers insane because of it.
I asked my mom numerous times over the years while I was growing up to have me tested, for anything, and she never did. She just told me that I needed to try hard and to focus, that there was nothing wrong with me. I got myself tested when I was 26 and trying to deal with college, but the “test” was a yes/no checklist as my primary care doctors office and according to that I was ADHD, yet the medication that was supposed to help me focus made me feel like I was on speed. I mean, I COULD focus, but I was able to focus on 3-5 things at one time. I remember sitting in my US History class, taking notes, working on Algebra homework, and writing a 3 page essay for English Lit class all at the same time, and it all made sense. That’s not a normal way to feel I would assume. The crash when the medication wore off was horrible too.
After doing research, while on this journey for my son, it’s made me wonder about myself and to take a step back and look at my childhood different.
these are just a very tiny portion of how I’ve felt different in my life. I’ll expand in different blogs later.
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