oh, that i were a phoenix... (trying to sleep is an exercise in futility)
i'm sitting here, glaring at the little bottle of amphetamines that's supposed to make me like all the other happy little good christian wheaton students, and it's pissing me off. i remind myself that many of the students are not happy, certainly many are not little, the good i cannot speak to, but some of them are--in all likelihood--not even christians. and that just pisses me off more, because i feel like i'm being held to an imaginary standard that no one meets anyway, but i'm being punished for being farthest out in left field. tallest nail gets hammered down, something like that. except i'm not even the tallest. i feel out of place. perpetually out of place.
they might help, my little pills, but i don't want to take them. part of me is afraid i'll lose something, even though what i've read suggests that the positive aspects of ADD (which, the ADD author notes, are often not mentioned) are not affected. in theory, i can still daydream when i want to, i just won't be trapped in them, like the happiest butterfly in the most beautiful web, oblivious to the spider. then again, the medicine only works for something like 85% of the people who take it, so this particular aspect of my indignation may all be a moot point, anyway.
i'm stuck, because i keep making the same mistakes over and over and over again, and on one side i have people telling me that there's nothing wrong with me, on another i have people telling me that there is something wrong with me but it's not my fault (like being nearsighted), and on yet another side i have people telling me i'd be fine if only i would "apply myself more." and, being the way that i am, i wonder at times if they aren't all right. i'm pretty sure they can't be, at least not all at the same time, which is exactly when they all claim to be true, and this puzzles me.
this semester was supposed to be a chance to show that i've changed, and sometimes i really, really believe that i have. i know more, about myself. most of the time, i actually like myself. then, at other times, i fall back into the same mistakes. i think i'm a dualist, not in religeon but in nature. example:
1) "oh, that i were a phoenix! i would know that i can change, that i can start again, that i can sing amidst my own destruction; i would know that after the fire dies i will rise up, renewed!"
2) "oh, that i were a phoenix, i could wander through my daily failures into night, set my bed on fire with a song on my lips, nero-like, and start the process over again in the morning."
i hold both of these ideas to be true. i'm not sure if i'm a pessimist or an optimist, i've never been sure, but i've been called both in the same day. gah. everything i try works! until it doesn't anymore. maybe i should just start taking the medicine; it probably won't work in six months anyway.
which reminds me. i've been realizing lately (read: the past two years, but today especially) that i get very, very angry, but it's all reactive. well, i guess most anger is reactive, so let me try to expand. i get angry, then i'm not anymore. it's like flashflooding. i'll get overwhelmingly frustrated, but not for long. if i'm lucky, i get a good story or a drawing out of it. usually, i just need to either tell someone about it, or wait till it passes, and then i'm not angry anymore, but if someone brings it up--BAM!--i'm angry again. stupid things, years later, things that shouldn't make me angry anymore. a word, a tone of voice, a look, can just... set me off, but usually i internalize it. at worst, i get--oh no!--snippy. real intimidating, i know, but it also doesn't provide much of a release. now, the exception to a lot of this, is if i have some sort of closure involved with the inciteful incident. example: this kid who made fun of me through most of school told me he was sorry one day. i've never been mad about it since. bring up some of the other kids, even ones who weren't as bad as he was, and if you keep me on the topic long enough you might actually see me hit something. i don't think i've explained this well. maybe if i remember (HAAA!) i'll work on it the next time i have an insomnia-induced rant.
i've been told i'm the most grounded person people know. i've also been called the flightiest. if i am to believe those who know me best, i'm brilliant, i'm idiotic, i'm devoted, hardworking, but i'm also lazy, i'm selfish, i'm not worth fighting for but i only wanted to be worth saving. i'm crazy, but i'm stable, and sometimes i get so angry because everything's so beautifully fucked up, and then i laugh and i cry until i don't really know the difference anymore. maybe it's because i'm ADD, maybe it's because i've had this obnoxious cold for four weeks and i can't get two decent night's sleep in a row and i'm too damned introspective for my own good, or maybe i'm just human.
i hate that answer, "i'm just human." i have for a very long time. i guess i keep wishing i was something better.
-lauren
post script--i hope noone is overly concerned by this, to some extent i need to bleed words onto paper once in awhile (even if, as in this case, those "words" on "paper" are pixels on a screen).
post post script--before anyone makes some obnoxious comment about ADD/ADHD being something "everyone" has, let me tell you in the most polite words i can manage that you are so very, very wrong and you need to do some more research. "driven to distraction," by edward m. hallowell, M.D., and john j. ratey, M.D., might be a good place to start. it's a book on ADD written by two doctors with ADD, so if that doesn't qualify them to talk about it, what will?
post post post script--(i know why the phoenix sings as it dies. the phoenix sings for love.)
they might help, my little pills, but i don't want to take them. part of me is afraid i'll lose something, even though what i've read suggests that the positive aspects of ADD (which, the ADD author notes, are often not mentioned) are not affected. in theory, i can still daydream when i want to, i just won't be trapped in them, like the happiest butterfly in the most beautiful web, oblivious to the spider. then again, the medicine only works for something like 85% of the people who take it, so this particular aspect of my indignation may all be a moot point, anyway.
i'm stuck, because i keep making the same mistakes over and over and over again, and on one side i have people telling me that there's nothing wrong with me, on another i have people telling me that there is something wrong with me but it's not my fault (like being nearsighted), and on yet another side i have people telling me i'd be fine if only i would "apply myself more." and, being the way that i am, i wonder at times if they aren't all right. i'm pretty sure they can't be, at least not all at the same time, which is exactly when they all claim to be true, and this puzzles me.
this semester was supposed to be a chance to show that i've changed, and sometimes i really, really believe that i have. i know more, about myself. most of the time, i actually like myself. then, at other times, i fall back into the same mistakes. i think i'm a dualist, not in religeon but in nature. example:
1) "oh, that i were a phoenix! i would know that i can change, that i can start again, that i can sing amidst my own destruction; i would know that after the fire dies i will rise up, renewed!"
2) "oh, that i were a phoenix, i could wander through my daily failures into night, set my bed on fire with a song on my lips, nero-like, and start the process over again in the morning."
i hold both of these ideas to be true. i'm not sure if i'm a pessimist or an optimist, i've never been sure, but i've been called both in the same day. gah. everything i try works! until it doesn't anymore. maybe i should just start taking the medicine; it probably won't work in six months anyway.
which reminds me. i've been realizing lately (read: the past two years, but today especially) that i get very, very angry, but it's all reactive. well, i guess most anger is reactive, so let me try to expand. i get angry, then i'm not anymore. it's like flashflooding. i'll get overwhelmingly frustrated, but not for long. if i'm lucky, i get a good story or a drawing out of it. usually, i just need to either tell someone about it, or wait till it passes, and then i'm not angry anymore, but if someone brings it up--BAM!--i'm angry again. stupid things, years later, things that shouldn't make me angry anymore. a word, a tone of voice, a look, can just... set me off, but usually i internalize it. at worst, i get--oh no!--snippy. real intimidating, i know, but it also doesn't provide much of a release. now, the exception to a lot of this, is if i have some sort of closure involved with the inciteful incident. example: this kid who made fun of me through most of school told me he was sorry one day. i've never been mad about it since. bring up some of the other kids, even ones who weren't as bad as he was, and if you keep me on the topic long enough you might actually see me hit something. i don't think i've explained this well. maybe if i remember (HAAA!) i'll work on it the next time i have an insomnia-induced rant.
i've been told i'm the most grounded person people know. i've also been called the flightiest. if i am to believe those who know me best, i'm brilliant, i'm idiotic, i'm devoted, hardworking, but i'm also lazy, i'm selfish, i'm not worth fighting for but i only wanted to be worth saving. i'm crazy, but i'm stable, and sometimes i get so angry because everything's so beautifully fucked up, and then i laugh and i cry until i don't really know the difference anymore. maybe it's because i'm ADD, maybe it's because i've had this obnoxious cold for four weeks and i can't get two decent night's sleep in a row and i'm too damned introspective for my own good, or maybe i'm just human.
i hate that answer, "i'm just human." i have for a very long time. i guess i keep wishing i was something better.
-lauren
post script--i hope noone is overly concerned by this, to some extent i need to bleed words onto paper once in awhile (even if, as in this case, those "words" on "paper" are pixels on a screen).
post post script--before anyone makes some obnoxious comment about ADD/ADHD being something "everyone" has, let me tell you in the most polite words i can manage that you are so very, very wrong and you need to do some more research. "driven to distraction," by edward m. hallowell, M.D., and john j. ratey, M.D., might be a good place to start. it's a book on ADD written by two doctors with ADD, so if that doesn't qualify them to talk about it, what will?
post post post script--(i know why the phoenix sings as it dies. the phoenix sings for love.)