You are critical because I am critical. I will be criticized as I hear your thoughts with so few follows. We all have so much to tell that our stories often feel tedious and mundane. Nothing original going on in our head. Is originality truly possible? Hasn’t it all been said before so perhaps we look for new ways to describe the original. Make it seem new again. Hold it up to the light to see a new fascet that illuminates our mind for a brief moment. Reminding us of essential truths. We matter even if we walk alone.
It took me eight years to realize my son and daughter had ADHD. Up until that point, I was an insane person and a terrible mother, so I told myself. We love to inflict pain upon ourselves when it seems there are no logical answers. I was a bad mother because I had two toddlers that never stopped talking, moving and destroying items. I was legit legally insane by the time I sought medical attention for my children. My husband was on a boat all the time so I was on my own with the crack head toddlers. My life consisted of waking exhausted to a day where little would get done because of the demands on my attention. I was lucky to take a shower much less empty the dishwasher. All of us passing out by eight at night was the only solace my soul had in my Alice in Wonderland world. I felt like a child abuser worthy of prison when I would occasionally give my children Benadryl so I could watch a movie or do anything for myself. That is why it took so long to get help because the voice inside me told me that I was a horrible mom and I was terrified a medical professional would verify my fears. We are a different family now with medication and behavioral modification counseling. Mom gets to rest and is happy to see the day and my children are doing well in school and succeeding which has done wonders for their confidence and mine. So please if this sounds familiar say to yourself “Self, I am not insane nor a nightmare mother and I need help!” And if the first doctor tells you they are just rambunctious and its hard to be a mom (true story) go find another that will talk some sanity to you.
It is 3 am, and I have insomnia again. I sometimes wonder if I am supposed to sleep four hours a night. Maybe my brain is special, and sleep deprivation does not affect it. Although I am sure, this blog post proves that wrong. Sleep is as elusive as a wisp of smoke. We have an abusive relationship as it bullies me with exhaustion during the day while leaving my brain teeming with words all night. The words are so loud at night they demand to be heard.