To medicate or not to medicate...

I wish it were as simple as me being able to look at someone and tell them exactly what I think... but, you and I both know that there exist layer upon layer of social "rules of order" that do not allow for this kind of forthright verisimilitude.  However, as one who has not always followed the rules, I am inclined to think that a straight forward approach is apropos in many cases and albeit, this could mean that I lose someone's respect or friendship, well, then that will just have to be a chance that I am willing to take.  Educating someone who chooses to remain ignorant about a topic let's say and then turns around to publicly denounce and/or humiliate another person based on said ignorance, well, let's just agree that if it were appropriate to hit people in public, then I would be the most appropriate person on the planet...

I'm speaking in riddles I know, but, if I disclose everything in one place, then there is no mystery, there is no foreplay.  It just simply is, she said this, I said that and BAM, done.  I always got the impression that you wanted me to tease you a bit before I revealed all, but then again, sometimes it is good to just get right to it.  Either way, I have to say, I am enjoying this little one sided back and forth if you will.  Or not, maybe I'm just deliriously tired and ashamed of some of the things that I am thinking at this particular moment in time.

SO, having said, well, nothing important or of any particular interest, let's move on to something else: medication.  Now I have your attention. Since I first posted several months ago about being diagnosed with ADD, many people have asked me about my course of action or, in layman's terms "What drugs did you get?" Pause for reaction... There is a politically correct discussion that looms around the prescription of medication for those who suffer from Attention Deficit issues and, in my case, that are primarily paired with Mood issues/disorders.  See, in the course of my research and in continuing to see my therapist (who, incidentally, I LOVE, for a variety of reasons), I have found that there are not only "types" of ADD but levels as well; the symptoms and the treatments are has varied as the patients themselves.  At one point, the prescriber wanted me to try Depakote which is actually used in patients who have seizures (this after a long discussion of my migraine headaches and my often severe mood swings), but the more I read up on the side effects and the dosage and my overall "goals" for taking medication in the first place, the more quickly I learned that all Depakote would do, and after taking it twice, was make me feel "nothing." And, my friends, nothing is not something that I want to refer to in terms of how I "feel" about anything.  It drugged me.  Trite I know, but that is how I felt, like I wasn't emoting at all.  Needless to say, two pills in and those went the way of "back to the pharmacy."  In conjunction with Depakote, I was and have been taking for almost two months now, wait for it... Adderall.  Well, a generic.  It's cheaper, but, yes, Adderall, a low dosage, but, let me just say, one that is working the way that she said that it would. 

Now, here is where all of the "hacks" and the anti-med people jump on the bandwagon or create a completely valid argument for why I feel "better" when taking amphetamines... just wait a second, OF COUSE I'm going to feel better - they are DRUGS.  They are giving me DRUGS... wait, I'm laughing hysterically.  Ok, I'm calm now.  But, I think if you allow me to pontificate momentarily, I can explain the difference between being "wasted" and being "medicated."  Splitting hairs for some of you, but, have you met me, like I give a Rat's ass about splitting hairs.  So, back to the drugs, ok MEDS...

I have learned that there are frontloading medications as opposed to a twice daily routine and I prefer the frontloading ones although they are more expensive because this particular one doesn't come in generic form, but it works for me because I only have to take it once a day and by the time that it seems to wear off, I feel like I might be able to fall asleep and, BIG side effect, one that I am not all that happy about is trouble sleeping.  This doesn't seem to be the case with the time release meds as much as the twice daily because I felt like they were still working when I went to pass out at 9 or 10; now, I just stay up a little later and that seems to do the trick.  But, overall, my body seems to be adjusting.  So, I take one pill in the morning after breakfast and, well, there you go, that's it.  CURED!  Just kidding... that's just the beginning.

If I could describe the feeling, I would simply say, it feels like my brain got plugged in.  Like someone literally grabbed a hold of the loose wires in my brain and re-connected them.  I do not get hyper or jittery or spastic.  I do not mumble incoherently or move faster than a speeding bullet.  Instead, it is just the opposite, I feel... calm.  Now, when this happened, this feeling, it was immediate and it was on the first day and since then, she has adjusted the dosage a bit so now I feel "just right."  Also, my brain seems to work in accordance with the meds now rather than seemingly fighting against them as I have heard some people describe it.  I mean, Adderall is Speed.  I suppose I could snort Coke and get the same effect but, not having ever used cocaine nor having the financial means to do so and also the fact that it too is a drug, I think I may stick with the prescription for now.  I know splitting hairs... fuck you.  Anyway, so during the time that my brain is on "drugs," I feel hard wired for peace.  I can focus better and longer, but no I am not instantly OFFICE MANAGER supreme; I didn't suddenly gain the ability to become organized and super efficient, BUT the two main keys are these: I can sustain my attention for longer with one particular activity so, by virtue of that, I am able to complete more tasks and, at the same time, to be less distracted and impulsive.  In addition, when I don't finish something or I lose something or I am running behind, I am calmer about the end result.  I am finding ways to work around the issues as they come up rather than ram through them like the Bulls running in Pamplona... There is an ease that comes over my brain, my being, my self, that makes me not so volatile, so emotional, so quick to act, which is a major factor in ADD.  Impulsivity, inability to focus and mood swings/quick to anger/judgment... all factors that have impeded my ability to be successful in many relationships and jobs.  People don't understand why I've taken jobs that pay me 10 or 12 dollars an hour because I have a Master's Degree. What they don't understand is, it isn't that I'm not capable of doing any job or going back to school or getting a Ph.d. Of course I am and of course I could, but when you struggle with the follow through, when you battle every single day with the question of "Will I get this done?" or even, "Will I do it right?" it's extremely hard to put yourself in a position where you know that you will fail.  I don't mind failing and I have numerous times, but when the pressure is so intense and it resonates from a place where other people are relying on you, well, let's just say that I'd rather have some flexibility and less pressure than money or prestige.  I enjoy tasks that have an expiration date and I love being productive.  I try very hard to set smaller goals for myself like weeding the garden instead of, this summer I think I'll go to Tanzania... how am I going to save the money.  The thing is, I still want to go to Tanzania, that Yvette hasn't changed and I hope to get there, but by saying I'm going to weed the garden and then by getting out there and finishing it for the day, I feel like I can now sit back and work on the bigger task of getting to Tanzania.  The medication makes me less willing to go to that dark place of tears and subterfuge that has often derailed my ability to function.  I have spent many nights curled up on the kitchen floor sobbing, not understanding why things are the way they are and why I am the way I am.  In this respect, Nick and I have a lot in common.  He doesn't exhibit these outpourings of emotion, but he often describes it as though he has two brains and he sometimes cannot understand why he does things in a certain way when he would like to do them in another way.  I am identical to him in that respect.  But overall, the medication is re-connecting the shorted wires.

In conjunction with the meds, I go to therapy regularly and I am exercising again.  I miss Bikram and I will get back to it, it is really expensive, but those with attention deficit issues have to do HARD exercise:  running, weights, martial arts, yoga... activities that exhaust their bodies and simultaneously help them to focus.  When the brain is exhausted and willing, clarity comes and that is when people with ADD are the most productive.  I don't really drink alcohol anymore either.  I will have a drink now and then; I had one the other night with my friends, but usually I have a drink maybe once every couple of weeks.  I also try to sit quietly at the end of the day for a few minutes to think about what could have been done differently that day and then I remind myself not to beat myself up.  I try to focus on what I did right because for too long I focused on what I did wrong.

My diet has been better too; another side effect to the meds can be killing of the appetite, but unfortunately for me, that has yet to happen, but I am trying to be more mindful of what I eat and how much water I drink.  As a result, my migraines are fewer and further between so I am thankful for that.  I guess in the long run, I can say that I don't think I will take medication for ever, but now that I have been officially diagnosed and I have gone through the proper channels, including having a complete physical and an EKG, I can wholeheartedly say that I am relieved to know that there is something there that I can try to manage, with help and that my overall level of empathy for those and with those who have learning differences or challenges has multiplied extensively.  I'm an average person who has worked hard to accomplish the goals that I set for myself but I also have a strong support system including friends who don't judge me and my former mistakes.  Those who did judge, I kicked to the curb.  No time for that nonsense.  And for what it's worth, if you struggle with an issue, know that it isn't something that WEB MD is going to provide an answer for nor is the issue going to have one solution.  Rather, there will be many components to the solution that require longevity and trial and error and that a huge part of the battle is finding the "right" system of components, including professionals and friends who will be there with you when you turn right on the wrong street and instead of laughing at you, they will shield you from the consequences so that the next time, you will turn the way that you were supposed to.  There is nothing wrong with me.  I am simply an Yvette with quirks that require some tweaking, not to function mind you, but to be better, for myself, for my children, for my husband and for those who choose to remain in my world and in everything around me. 

There is no cure, there are only gradients in the path that we each are on.  Lately, mine had been riddles with gravel and I fell often.  Now I have a good set of knee pads.  And, that has made all the difference... be well.

Catharsis...

I've been crying a lot recently; sometimes it comes out of nowhere and sometimes it comes at really inconvenient times, like when I am driving. And, unfortunately, I am an ugly crier. I have friends who cry beautifully, but not me. Nope. My face gets bright red and I scrunch up eyes like a seriously old woman and then I make this half wheezing, half snorting sound that seems to frighten people, at least that has been my experience in the past. I'm always in admiration of those actors on television who can cry with just tears rolling down their cheeks. Now, THAT is a real skill. You can look good, keep most of your make-up in tact and yet, you can participate in the moments that make you want to send drops rolling effortlessly down your grief stricken face. I guess I thought on some level that life would get a bit easier and simpler as the kids got older, well, Jake and Nick anyway. Ty is still the "little" of the house so I am not going to include him, but, recently, especially with Nick's diagnosis, preparing him for his future independent life has become a full time job. I am emotionally exhausted right now and I have been looking for a way to channel those feelings into something positive; I have been looking for activities or hobbies or a job that will allow me to be productive and that will belong just to me for now. Something that will introduce me to a new facet of life, maybe even something that I hadn't previously considered. Whatever it is, I have to find a way to disconnect myself from the level of involvement that being the mom of an Aspie requires. That is the terminology that we use to describe our wonderful yet challenging children, a phrase that was coined and has been used in every single parenting manual that you will find on Special Education "types" at Barnes and Noble. Regardless of the term, having a teenager is challenging anyway, but throw in some obstacles for which you aren't prepared and, well, you'd be looking for a change in your life too. I try to remind myself everyday that the reasons why Nick is so great, and he is: smart, sensitive, loving, funny as all hell are part of the Asperger's too. The syndrome has shaped him into who he is and although there are symptoms and there are quite a few, Nick would not be Nick without it. And for that reason, I keep pushing forward. Sometimes the tears come when I think about all of the hard times that Nick will face and although I hope and pray that those are few and far between, I know, for a fact, that there will be many. And, that it is my job to prepare him for those. Sometimes I cry when I think about all of the other teenagers out there who are Nick's age who are hanging out with friends on the weekends and who play sports like I did when I was his age and he is content, reading a book or playing a video game. I try very hard not to project my ideas of what and who he should be onto him, but it's really difficult not to do that sometimes. And so I cry more. Sometimes I cry when I think about Nick being on his own and how I won't get to reassure him or check on him or tell him that I love him every single day. I believe that he will have his own life, his own career and his own relationships, but it will be challenging. Lastly, I cry when I think that one day I won't be here for him anymore and as long as I know that he has a solid system in place, I won't worry, but I will still be sad, sad at the knowledge that I won't get to see him live out his entire life. No parent wants to do that, that would mean, clearly, that we outlived them, but I would very much like to know that he is ok and that my greatest gift in life will be the knowledge that the three of them no longer "need" me, that they can survive and thrive on their own. I look forward to the day that I will miss my children; I don't want it to come too soon, but when it does, it will mean that I've fulfilled my goal of helping them to become the men that they set out to be. Asperger's, like any other affliction or gift or challenge that we all have to individually face, has robbed my son of opportunities; he is not able to fully participate in the same kinds of life activities that his peers do. Sometimes I am sad for that, but more often than not, I am glad that he doesn't. It presents a challenge, but it also forces Nick and our family to find, to create, to examine opportunities that we might not have otherwise considered. My Nick is a trained teen volunteer and he takes Sign Language classes. He reads a book a week and he adores animals. He finds joy in the simple things like pumping gas, grocery shopping and taking walks in the neighborhood. Simple. Nick is simple. Sometimes I cry because I worry that he won't find someone who appreciates that simplicity, even when it does come wrapped with intelligence and humor. I've cried a lot in the last month at the realization that there are wonderful schools out there with programs that would afford Nick the kind of education that could change his life and that we cannot afford to send him to them. This last one has been the most difficult, especially for me. You always want to give your kids what they need, but it is hard to know when and how and if you can even attempt to do it. When you have other children too, your whole life cannot revolve around one child's needs and lately it seems that is the case in my house. Maybe the tears come when I find myself unable to share the exact sentiment that concerns these issues and problems. No one understands exactly what I 'm going through although there are many friends who have similar experiences and those who care and listen because they are friends. I try not to think too much that if I feel this way, then what must Nick be going through? I think that, and then he comes around the corner and hugs me or he starts dancing in the hallway or he tells me a blonde joke. He loves those the most... all three of the boys do, "Mom is having a blonde moment." Yes she is children and you are the cause of it. I think pregnancy kills brain cells and I know I'm not the first to make that claim... I haven't been so proud of myself or my behavior lately. I think I was getting so far removed from the reality of situations because of the demands on me at home that I let things go that I shouldn't have and I neglected the people and events that I should have given my attention to more regularly. I haven't been completely honest with people nor have I begun to get back to the routine that I desperately need to regain my foothold outside of this house. I know what a lot of my friends would say, "You need to go for a run." Yes, that is very true. And I need to, and I need to and the list goes on until it falls down the front of the refrigerator and gently folds itself onto the floor. The list is endless and it changes everyday and while I love that change, I also long for some peace and an opportunity to reinvent myself so that I can be more for my family, especially my children. It's excruciatingly painful when you are the role model for them and you feel like you're failing on multiple levels. And then they hug you and tell you that you are a badass and it gets better again. In my dictionary, there is only one word that appropriately describes parenting and that is unpredictable... alarmingly unpredictable. That's two words. Maybe it would be easier if I were a worrier, but, excluding any evidence here to the contrary, I am not. I don't worry about what will happen tomorrow; I think about it, I consider it, I feel it but rarely do I worry about it. I can't change what is coming, not for Nick, not for Jake, not for Ty, but I can help them to be ready for it and if I fail to do that, then I will have failed us all. It is a heavy responsibility raising children, an endeavor unlike anything else that I've ever taken on in my life and the one "job" that I've managed to stick with for the longest. Nick told me the other day that he is noticing things about his peers that he never noticed before and he was stuck on one idea in particular and that was the notion that a lot of the kids his age seemed to think that life "sucks." When we discussed it, he said he understood whey they might think that, but that he didn't think that. For him, the idea that someone would want to dramatize something is difficult to comprehend. Making a big deal out of something insignificant is pointless. So when he does it and I point it out, then he sees what those kids mean, yet he still doesn't agree. He can't understand why they want to waste their time on social media or whey they talk about each other in such a way one day and then in another way the next day. A rather mature assessment I think, but also one that sets him apart again. Maybe it is because we spend so much time together that I notice more and more how hard Nick is trying to "be like everyone else" and yet, deep down, I hope on some level that he doesn't succeed. Nick is a lot like those boxes that contain another box and so on... there are many levels to discover and by which to be challenged... I don't really believe in self-pity. I know it exists and I understand why, but, to me, it's a lot like worry, pointless. I don't have a single thing to feel sorry for myself about. Yes, we had to sell our house, yes, we have a son with special needs, yes, we have financial challenges, yes, we are dealing with issues that surround middle age and yes, God yes, we continue to face our own demons. But when I look in the mirror in the morning, if I can tell myself that I did the best I could the day before even if that only meant that I swept the living room, then that will have to be enough. It is enough. I don't expect people to understand me or my life or my situation, but I like to think that they try. I use that same approach with Nick. I don't pretend to understand him or the way that he thinks because I can't, all I can do is love him and accept him and keep wanting more for him than he got the day before. Most parents I know say the exact same thing about their kids. On the days that I cry, when I feel like I'm losing my focus and I can't seem to snap out of it, I let myself go there. I feel it, embrace it and then I try to move forward. Nick, of all of the people in my life, has taught me that. His innate ability to "forget" what just happened, especially if it was negative, has been the greatest gift of all. I doubt that he will be able to hold on to that perpetual feeling of "it's over, let it go," but for now, I hope that he continues to embrace things slowly, at his own pace, even if the world around him is moving twice as fast. That's my Nick. I think I could probably learn to appreciate a life without failure; I like to think that I would still appreciate the people and things in my life, but, let's face it, failure just gives us perspective and, really, hope that the next time we try, we will succeed. So in catharsis then, when the tears come, we shouldn't hold them in and we shouldn't be ashamed of their presence because the feelings behind them remind us that there is good in the pain and that pain reminds us that we are alive and here and still trying to make the best of things. When my boys fall down, literally, or have in the past, I don't run right at them and yell "What's wrong? Are you ok? Are you hurt? Don't cry." and that doesn't make me a candidate for a Social Services visit. Instead, I try to stay calm, minimize the "hurt" and if they cry, and they do, I simply let them. And if they need me to hold them then I do. Sometimes I just say, "Take your time, when you're ready." And you know what, they always are ready, eventually. So Nick, take your time and when you're ready, we will face the challenges as they come, hopefully one at a time and not in tandem and maybe we should all remember that, very much like the Little League Pledge, life really is just one big game with pitfalls and windfalls, despair and hope, suffering and redemption and that by "striving to win" we really do win. So, let the tears come and when they stop, dry your eyes, remember why they came, file it away and get back in the game. But I don't tell Nick that because he looks at me funny and asks, "What game Mom?" and then shakes his head, blonde moment indeed...

Gaining more than I've lost...

An excellent composition student of mine this past term wrote a research paper on Factory Farming and much can be gained directly from reading the information and there is much that is to be inferred. After finishing the paper, I watched two separate documentaries about factory farms and then I did some research of my own. It is not as though this subject or GMO's or starting your own garden are new topics per se, but after reading her research and her view point, I decided that it was time that I applied the data to myself, to my family and to my life as an educator. What I discovered was revelatory. As a cheeseburger consuming, ketchup wielding, bacon frying kind of girl, I had always just kind of operated with the philosophy that the food chain exists for a reason and we, at the top, have an inalienable right to consume everything that falls below us, even if we didn't hunt, fish or kill it ourselves. I was raised on hot dogs, burgers, eggs, turkey sandwiches and so on and even when we started having kids, I never really thought about the implications of "meat" consumption because what I really started to think about these past couple of months was not "meat," but, really, animal consumption. Even as I type this, the pug is staring at me, knowing what I've done to his distant relatives, in the broadest terms. In conjunction with my research and film viewing, I also read Michael Pollan's The Ominivore's Dilemma and I read a transcript of a documentary in which a middle aged man from Australia documented a trip across the United States while consuming nothing but freshly blended juice from real fruit and veggies, but more on that later. When I sat down to think about the potential impact of all of this information, not just on the public, but on society, I have to admit, it frightened me. It made me step back and think about the notion of paying it forward. It's illogical to think that each of us can help everyone change their lives, but it is logical to think that if our example influences one and our kindness changes another and our awareness causes yet another to consider an idea then, it was worth putting it out there. And so, the 30 day Vegan challenge arose... Truthfully, I also had an ulterior motive, a new year, new challenges, a time to rethink my health regimen and, possibly, to get back into the routine that I had successfully carved out for myself the year before last. Honestly, I wasn't feeling well: tired, cranky, sluggish, achy. Yes, I am cranky very often, but the others applied on a really regular basis, even rivaling the others. Imagine. So, I went online, found the challenge, took Jake with me to Sprouts and the challenge began... In all, I went completely Vegan for 25 days and Vegetarian for the last 5. I had egg whites and dairy during the last 5 days. I lost 4 pounds and I gained a deep appreciation for my body and the choice, the action of every piece of food that enters into my system. More than that though, I gained a deeper understanding of how very little effort it takes to impart an idea, to share a new way of thinking, to help others feel that way too. I'm not going to lie. There were days when I wondered what the hell I was doing. I bought a juicer, I invested in a recipe book (anyone who knows me knows that it will just collect dust on my shelf), I registered for an online chat group with other "Veganites" and I started to talk to my family about the impact of their barbarism on the planet. They basically chastised me and told me to "Pass the Bacon." That's just the norm around here. There are 5 of us in my family and, given the research, if 2 of us change our patterns, or, if 50% of the number in your household (we aren't going to chop Ty in half, well, not today anyway) change the amount of meat products consumed in their families, eventually the shortages and the animal cruelty and the corn fed beef as opposed to natural grass fed beef, would wane. Interesting given the fact that most of the reading material that I came across did not patronize meat eaters, but instead, discussed in an informative and rather non-biased way the subject of how MUCH meat and egg and dairy products were are consuming and how that is contributing to a potential shortage in the near future; who are we kidding? There already is a shortage. We are consuming meat, including poultry and fish at such an alarming rate that the farms cannot keep up and, in turn, the practices that they are utilizing are barbaric, unsanitary and frankly, unsettling, to say the least. When I decided to change my diet, I thought about the contribution of cutting out all meat and dairy and instead, I realized that just by cutting out some, a significant difference could be made. That sounds so trite, but, again, as someone who was raised on meat, this is a profound alteration in the way that I had thought about food. In addition, I realized, as soon as I began this regimen, that the amount of chemicals and antibiotics and other ingredients in food products were affecting my system, including, my sight, my skin and, although I'm no longer using them for their intended purpose, my reproductive organs. I started to think about meat as not the pure product that I once thought it was; that is what really changed for me. It has been 10 days since the "end" of the challenge and since then, I've had eggs, turkey bacon and tilapia, but I have yet to have beef or pork and, without shooting myself in the foot, I can put out into the universe that there is a better than great chance that I will not eat those two ever again. I will limit my consumption of poultry and that includes eggs and I no longer drink "dairy" milk. I now use soy products only. While I did not extend my Vegan challenge into my household products, I am more mindful of the products that I do buy and that I use in our home and I am also on a mission to get my family to be more aware of what and how much they eat of something, but I do not deprive them of something if they want it. Jake just ate two cheeseburgers and Nick had a turkey sandwich for lunch. I think the turning point for me was when I really thought about all of the animals and how horribly they are treated in factory farms because of the production rate that has to be kept up. If people did not want to cut down by half, they could consider replacing certain products or even, just substituting something else for animal meals once in a while. This was my 30 day journey and this is what I've learned so far. I bought a new juicer. I had one years ago, but, alas, it was lost by the wayside. After reading this man's journey back to health based solely on 3 months of juicing, I was inspired to think about fruits and veggies in another way. While I had been a bacon girl, I am an avid veggie and fruit eater and so are my kids, well, more fruits than veggies but that is changing day by day. Even Ty has gotten on board with Kale, Apple, Carrot, Broccoli juice. I would have never imagined. Again, the main discovery for me has been how well I feel when I am consuming natural, whole, sometimes organic products. This sounds childish to me, not revelatory, but it wasn't the knowledge, it was the act of making a conscious choice to eat this not that or to drink that not this. And then, looking at the bigger picture which involves how my body is functioning. I sleep better, I'm calmer, I have more energy, these are given, BUT I began to think more clearly, at least that is what it seemed like. My focus was sharper when it came to certain activities and I didn't have to think about them repeatedly. This is revelatory for someone who wasn't raised to think about food as a mechanism by which to function more efficiently; I was raised to think of food as pleasure more than as fuel. And yes, a kale smoothie isn't going to substitute for a piece of cheesecake all the time, but it is going to make me feel like going for a walk or a swim so that I can later have that piece of cheesecake. I realize all of this has been said before but I guess I wanted to put it down in a context that was mine, a lesson that I learned. I try never to hate my body; it pisses me off sometimes, unknowingly of course, but whatever ails it, it is because of the choices that I have made. When I treat it well, it returns the favor and this 30 day challenge gave me some valuable insight into what it means to be kind to oneself. I have some really great friends who have also committed to adding in facets of health: drinking more water, daily activity, veggies galore, planking... and all of this, combined with a desire to be mobile in my later years has helped me to begin to heal again. I'm not going to make something up, but I stopped running when Coach Scott died. It's not a viable reason; his family goes on every day and they are an amazing group of people. I don't know what it was, I just kind of got lost again, fell out of touch with that girl that I was a long time ago. And I needed to think about the whole picture in another way and I really felt, when I read Tailyr's paper for the first time, that it was time to start thinking about the whole picture again, not just a fraction of the piece. I miss him. But I know what he'd say and for anyone else who knew him, they know too. I guess overall, when I hear people say, well, you only live once, I never really think that they are referring to the NY steak that they are going to eat or the vodka martini that they just threw down, oh, incidentally, no alcohol either on the Vegan plan... wait for reaction. Ok, continuing on, I guess I think that means that they are doing something dangerous, something that may compromise their health, their sanity, their fidelity and THAT is why they are doing it. But in my journey, that NY steak is indeed, one of those compromises. I suppose in a broader way, it is more fair to say I will try than to say I will, but let's face it, do we ever really get anywhere when we say we will try? We try, yes, but when we say we will, then we try in conjunction with succeeding. So, I will no longer eat red meat or pork. And I will try to be ever mindful of the reasons behind why I choose to do that. And those people are right, you only live once and I want that once to continue to be a journey of health, mobility and longevity. I want that for you too.

Finally... a new year

I don't know about you, I hope for you it was different, but for me, 2013 was a shitty year. I mean, my kids are healthy, my husband pretends to still love me and I have a few friends left, but overall, I was extremely glad to see 2013 go the way of the dumpster... I realize that a year is just a year, another year is just another year, but, I think that could be said for so many things. We always associate a newness with January 1st, but really, it's just a day in the pantheon of days, of weeks of years. My sons turn 17, 14 and 8 this year, I turn 45 and our marriage turns 21... just numbers, experiences, lives wrapped up in one seemingly endless turn of a sunset into a sunrise into a sunset. I'm not someone who is as hung up on age as other people are and I am definitely not someone who sits around and wonders how I can look "younger." I did get my hair colored today and I noticed, not for the first time, that the gray hair has now begun to invite friends to the party, but I told Erin, my friend and my long time hair "manager" that I actually liked the gray. She laughed right before she colored it away, but I secretly like it; it is my own personal tribute to the nights I lay awake worrying about my children or the culmination of tears I've shed, many of them this past year. A badge of honor if you will, maybe I will let it go gray eventually. Or, maybe not. 2013 began with the death of a very loved and very respected man. As the anniversary of his death fast approaches, I am deeply saddened again by the recurring thought that I won't see him again. I think of him often and I feel his presence sometimes when I am remembering an anecdote about running or I picture a training in Griffith park or whenever I get a message from someone who was associated with APLA, but it makes me really sad when I think back a year ago to the day when we all sat in the Temple to pay tribute to him and, tragically, to say goodbye. I knew it was happening while it was happening, but it wasn't until a couple of months ago that I faced it again, with the help of two very good friends. I hadn't run in almost a year. I stopped. I did nothing. I gained 25 pounds back. I didn't want to acknowledge it let alone admit it. I felt tired and weak, sad and unfocused. More than anything though, I felt really lost again. When the December running challenge came, run at least 1 mile every day for the month of December, track it and hold yourself accountable, I reluctantly agreed. As the days went on and the month closed out, I only missed two days. Now my girls did it every day, as did many other people nationwide, but instead of kicking myself for those two days, I celebrated the fact that I was back on track and that I needed to work through the issues that had kept me from continuing my physical and psychological, to some degree, success(es). I needed to step back in order to move forward and so this month, it's 30 minutes of cardio a day, minimum, for the entire month. And, in addition to my girls, two more of the girls have joined in and today, on Day 4, I'm 3 for 3, going on 4 in just awhile. I'm trying to remember how I felt before Scott died, about running, about life, about all of it. I let myself down this year, in more ways than one and I know for a fact that a lot of it was in tandem with letting go of running. I know that now. Tim told me about a week ago that my being judgmental usually leads to my overreacting to things and to people. He's said similar things over the years, but he said it in a way, this time, that really gave me pause. Maybe because it came at a time when I needed to hear it and could hear it objectively, but maybe moreso because it came from him and I value his opinion. I respect it. And so I thought about it and I realized that, like many times throughout our marriage, it wasn't so much that he was right and I was wrong, it was that it was the truth. I've let my judgmental nature serve as a shield to what's really going on, much of which isn't what I thought it was. I mean, there are times when I read people spot on, but there are other times when I am completely off base. I try to apologize and there have been times when it has been too late and the relationship is ruined. And, I have to live with that. Being "older" has given me some much needed perspective on this issue. Although I am impulsive, I have also come to understand that the people who know me the best, understand this about me and they try to accept it. They don't always like it, but they try. And so, I am hoping for more objectivity in my life, this year, this week, in the next few hours... I can't give people what they need or want from me when they do. I can only give when I am able to; this is a short sided view I realize but it's also the only way that I know how to operate. It comes across as extremely selfish and vain at times, but really, it's simply just an inability to be what everyone needs me to be, in that moment. If I'm mad then I can't pretend that I'm not. If you've pissed me off, then I'm going to act pissed off. I can't disguise my feelings and many people can't relate to that; they want you to plaster a smile on your face and wave as though you are driving in a convertible, down the Esplanade on a warm summer day. I lack the ability to do that, sure, people pretend, but I don't want to pretend anymore. I want to be straight with you and have you either accept it or not, but I want to know that when my head hits the pillow that my conscience is clear. And ultimately, that is my goal for the upcoming year - a clear conscience, maybe even a clean slate. Several friends lost loved ones this year and my Grandpa Donald passed away as well. I saw him on a Friday and he passed on a Tuesday. It was sad and it is sad, especially for my Mom and her sisters, but, it was time. He went downhill rather quickly, but to me, it seemed like a natural progression. When I saw him on Friday, he told me, "Why does everyone keep asking me how I am? I'm old that's how I am." I laughed and said I understood. I just sat there for a little while, talked about the kids, held his hand, listened - he was having a hard time talking due to all the medication, but I understood him. I didn't stay too long because he was getting tired, but when I left, I kissed his cheek and told him that I loved him and I said goodbye. I got to say Goodbye. Sure, I didn't know that he was going to pass the next Tuesday, but I got to look at his face and say goodbye. I loved my Grandpa very much. I didn't go to see him as often as I should have, but whenever I did see him, it was like very little time had passed. He was a lovely man, genial, kind, smiling and funny. He and my Grandma were quite a pair; this was the first Christmas without both of them and although I didn't give it too much thought on the day, I'm sitting here now, thinking about him and wishing that both of them were still here. Pieces of my childhood; that's what my grandparents were. Good memories, laughter, joy, family and although we continue the traditions, a part of me died when each of them did. I am no longer the granddaughter. Now, as I have been, I am a mother and a wife and one day, God willing, I will be a Grandmother. My mortality stares at me more with each relative that passes and I move into the upper echelon of remaining family members. Scott's death reminded me of that as well. And for the friends who lost dear ones, I was reminded yet again... My Grandpa left this year and a new baby entered. No, not me. That ship has sailed my friends although from time to time, Ty asks me for a sister. I just ignore him like I didn't hear his question. It has worked so far... my brother and his wife Erin welcomed their third child, my niece, into 2013. Her birth is not counted as part of the year that went awry, in fact, it was one of the brighter moments in many years past. I am glad for them and for their kids that they have another sibling. I don't usually make New Year's resolutions, but I have, in my mind, thought of a few things that I am going to work on this year and I am hoping to work on my relationship with Erin. She probably doesn't know that; I don't think that she reads this blog, but if on some off chance that she does, I am going to try to be there for her and for her family more and to try to be kinder and more willing to be open, less judgmental as the theme continues. I want her to know that. As for all of the other crap that continued to pile up in 2013, there were some lovely moments as well; time spent with my family, generosity, a continued job that I love and a lot of funny stories, some too personal to mention here. If they were just my stories I'd mention them, but they involve other people and I am not so sure I can afford any more casualties in the friend department at the moment. I take a moment to post this rants on Facebook although I am not on FB anymore, meaning, I don't read postings or respond to them regularly anymore. I told myself that I was going to work on my "real" relationships with people rather than my virtual ones and I got tired of all of the stupid things that many people post on a daily basis. And yes, you read that right... STUPID. I'm not going to give an example, I'm not out to hurt anyone's feelings today. Many people think this blog is stupid and that's fine with me. Touche... I really liked Facebook for the keeping in touch with people who I don't see often factor, but after awhile, it got old, trying to keep up with everyone and everything and liking things and not liking things and sharing things and photos and... that's when I gave up on it. I do miss those people though and I am trying to keep up with them outside of social media, but when you don't Instagram or Twitter or Snapchat or whatever else the fuck that people are doing instead of talking to each other, it gets harder to do so. The wedge gets wider. Cest la vie, I guess I will just go back to the old fashioned way of communicating, a la eye contact and hugs and meeting for coffee. I miss mail and postcards and my Grandma's Christmas and Birthday cards. They were an ever present reminder that someone was thinking about me. Many friends are running the New Year's half tonight including my beloved The Rosh. To all of you, I hope that you have a great run and that every step brings you toward the promise of a blessed, happy and healthy year. Running really is a metaphor for life. Every step counts and you are constantly moving forward, hopefully toward a goal, but at 44, hopefully not the finish line... at least not yet. Be kind to each other and when you can't, when you feel the bile coming up into your throat, remind yourself that at least you are here and that you have a chance to try again. And I promise to try to do the same... Happy New Year.

Not dicking around...

I really don't care too much for that expression, for more than one reason. Regardless though, it seems appropriate for today. I'm not dicking around, fucking around, messing around; take whichever "rated" version you are in the mood for today... I was grading papers today for the better part of the afternoon and I was thinking about writing as a "hobby." While my students have to write under the tyrannical oppressive classroom like atmosphere that I create and the assignments that also match that foreboding description, I, on the other hand, have free reign and total autonomy over the ideas that I choose to contemplate and then deliver. I parent in much the same way although there is a lot of laughter mixed with the dictatorial comments that I spew randomly at the three minors who cavort daily in my home. Writing certainly is cathartic although if you think TOO much about what you want to say, then you are just editing your thoughts and then one has to ask, "Does that really help my mental state?" Writing as a hobby implies a certain amount of creativity, speculation and articulation that is equivalent to the level of understanding of which your audience is capable. Use a word that you know they aren't going to recognize or "Google" at their leisure and they may miss the point entirely. By the same token, repeat the same sentiment more than once and you may lose the gnat like attention span of the current members of Generation "Y" as I have heard them referred to in recent days. When I am grading papers, whenever I am grading papers, I give much consideration to how the student arrived at the thoughts that he chooses to share on the paper in front of me. Sometimes I sit for quite awhile and try to imagine the process that brought him to "this" idea or "that" conclusion. I know that I've said this before, but writing is such an intimate activity as it brings to the surface those pieces of you that may have been repressed or just hidden away for a long time. The process of grading a paper is much like being re-introduced to the writer himself; he is showing me a part of him that I may have never considered and that act, in that second, when the words cross over from the page into my brain, I make a real connection with that student, whether he realizes it or not. And that connection, that moment of synchronicity between our minds is, for me, what makes the act of writing so personal, volatile and highly provocative. Even when people are discussing an idea, there is often a lack of depth to the dialogue because when we speak to someone else, we are immediately responding to the most current idea in a timely fashion. We tend to discourage long pauses in conversation, at least in our U.S culture. We speak instantly and sometimes we start speaking even before the other person has had an opportunity to finish speaking. Thus, a lack of depth, clearly not always, but for me, it seems to occur more often than not. Unlike in writing, where one has the opportunity to expand on some ideas and to minimize others, with editing tools... I am pontificating on the artistic merits of composition. My mom told me not long ago that I was a "good" writer; that meant a great deal to me coming from her and then she added that I should do something with my writing skills. I smiled and then laughed, adding, "Mom, I am a writing teacher." She laughed too. So as to not "dicking around," well, I can honestly add, as it relates to the notion of writing as a hobby, I don't have much time these days to do said "dicking." Time and thoughts are often limited to packing lunches, walking the Pug, doing laundry and running kids all over town in the Tahoe. I am lucky if I have a few minutes to sit and ponder an idea that initially sounded like a good writing topic but that then ultimately goes nowhere. Tomorrow night my students will give their presentations on their research papers and hopefully they will discuss the process that they took in arriving at their final product, but my experience tells me that most of them will just choose a solid section from their papers and they will summarize what they've written. Often it's boring, but every once in awhile, there is a group of students who collectively seems to enjoy the process from inception to presentation. I am hopeful that this will be the case tomorrow. I always look forward to hearing their ideas and strangely, to reading the papers, strangely only because they are the longest product of the term and they usurp quite a chunk of my non-existent "free" time in the grading of them. But in the end, I learn several things, many of which are ideas with which I am unfamiliar. I never claimed to know anything let alone everything. I feel enlightened after I read most of them and with some, I drop my head and shake it slowly wondering how a student could hand such a pathetic product in after 8 weeks, but there are almost always 2 or 3 that end up with a sub-standard grade due to apathy or "personal" issues or just plain poor planning. Regardless, I will hold them in my hands tomorrow night and until I am ready to delve into the minds of the students, those papers will sit on my dining room table, taunting me, teasing me, even trying to solicit me... well, maybe not solicit. We will make that determination after I read some of the titles of the essays. I actually wish that I had more time to "dick" around; I long for the days when I could just sit on the porch and do nothing and when I could say, "I'm so bored." I do get bored, but I never have more than a few minutes to feel that before the dog needs to go out or Ty can't find his backpack or Jake needs to go to CVS for a posterboard at 10:00 at night. Maybe "dicking" around will just have to be reserved for those few days in my life when there will be no pile of papers looming at the end of the table or when the kids no longer want me to go anywhere with them or when it's hockey season and I lose Tim anyway. Maybe "dicking" around is reserved for those times in our lives when we just put aside all grown up things and allow ourselves to just not care about that pile of bills or the dentist appointment. Ah, I got distracted. Tim just came up and rubbed my shoulders for 10 minutes - all the tension has dissipated. All of life's dilemmas can be solved much easier after a few minutes of back rubbing. At least that's my opinion. Time for bed. Time to stop "dicking" around on the computer... Goodnight.

Enough...

There are few things harder in life than watching your child make a decision that you know is simultaneously excruciating and yet, wholly necessary; ironically, it could ultimately be the best decision that he or she ever made, despite the pain that caused it to happen in the first place. Tonight, Jake quit the West High Soccer team. It was a decision that was over a year in the making, but after the first pre-season game, he knew that he could no longer endure what had become an exercise in humiliation for him. My first reaction to his decision was a mixture of anger and disappointment and this didn't bode well with him. He needed me to be instantly supportive and, after some discussion, I think we both understand from where the other was coming. But, I'm not going to lie, when I heard the decision, I was conflicted; I was relieved that he would no longer have to suffer under the tyranny that Mike Shimizu has established at West High, but I was deeply saddened to know that he would no longer play a sport that he loves so much, for his school and with his friends. A decision was made in the summer of 2011, one that affected our family in a difficult way. As a result, Jake did not participate in the voluntary soccer program at West. When he returned to join the class in the Fall as a potential player, he was denied entry by Shimizu. I tried to address the issue head on, but when dealing with a human being who sees no side but his own, it is impossible to make a point. As a result of his blatant disregard for my explanation combined with the denial of Jake's entry into the program, I wrote an email in which I both explained the situation and also where I asked that Jake be given a chance to try out, along with everyone else in a "fair" capacity. I should have known after speaking with Mike Shimizu for a mere 5 minutes that "fair" was not, nor does it continue to be a part of his vocabulary. As a result of the distribution of that email and a subsequent visit to the Athletic Director, Shimizu has since disregarded my son altogether. And, although I make my case for Jake; it is clear, based on the number of boys who have voluntarily left the program, that it is not mere coincidence that the reason why these kids no longer play, is because Mike Shimizu is the coach. Despite their love for the game and their desire to play with their friends and for their school, they left nonetheless. Certainly one might argue that any disgruntled parent can write a diatribe against a coach who doesn't "play" her kid, but, for anyone who knows Jake and, who knows me, you would be hard pressed to make that argument. Jake has done everything "right" during the past year. He regrouped, joined a club team, put in 3-4 extra goalie trainings a week and trained on his own, topping out this past summer in the best shape of his life. And all he wanted was a chance; a chance to compete for the Varsity Goalie spot this season. As a junior and as someone who did everything humanly possible to put himself in the best position possible, he deserved that chance. He even approached the coach just for an opportunity to practice with the varsity given all of the effort and work that he put in. Shimizu simply told him that that was Jake's "opinion" that he should have a chance. Despite that, Jake attended the pre-season banquet and the first pre-season game a few nights ago when he was told that he would have to compete with a freshman for the JV goalie spot. Neither Jake nor I are the kind of people to ever deny someone the right to something that they deserve, but when Jake was told that, it was the last straw. It was clear that not only had he been disregarded, but that he was never going to have a chance to move forward. That sentiment was confirmed when he approached Shimizu that night and again the following day and Shimizu did not try to encourage him to continue nor did he offer any words of comfort to a kid that just put in two soccer seasons at West and a year of additional work, just to earn a chance. When Jake approached Shimizu yesterday to be signed out of soccer, Jake simply told Shimizu that he would no longer play for a coach who he didn't respect and then he left. I would never disparage the West High Soccer program; I am, after all, an alumnus of both the school and the program, but I will take an opportunity to voice my disappointment in and criticism of a coach who runs that program. Shimizu is the type of coach who shows extreme favoritism. In addition, he discards players for a variety of reasons, many of which are not legitimate. He claims that he allows so many boys into the program so that they can be a part of something their freshman year, knowing full well that almost half of them will see no real playing time. But when it comes to earning that $250 dollars that will go to the program, well, there is no problem with that, playing time allotted or not. In addition to that, there has never been a definitive breakdown of where that money goes. Several of the boys played with uniforms that had numbers taped on last season? Shimizu demands extra time yet his only interest is in the few players who he deems "ready" to play Varsity. The ironic notion about that is, as a club soccer coach, he must know that recruiting rarely happens at the high school level any more; it happens mostly at events where club players compete or at showcases. High school soccer has become a program where kids from all walks can play yet he does not develop these kids; he is only interested in the players who he decides, without other input, meet his criteria and some of that criteria is not based on skill or ability or attitude. Mike Shimizu has been at West for 17 seasons. Even the most liberal of programs would realize that the program needs some fresh input, some coaches who are more in touch with the sport in a current framework. The boys need coaches who are role models and who they would like to be when they play and as they grow. Mike Shimizu is not one of those coaches. Clearly, one might argue that I am attacking Mike Shimizu personally, his character really and well, I don't even know him. One could make that argument, but hasn't he done the same thing with my son? As a parent, if the blend of personalities does not mix in a classroom between student and teacher, the parent has some recourse. There might be a discussion with the Principal, the counselor and some meetings to resolve the issue between the two. However, if no resolution can be reached, quite often, the student is taken out of one teacher's class and put into another's. While soccer is an extracurricular activity, high school sports are crucial for so many students; they keep them focused and disciplined while at the same time, allowing them the opportunity to feel as though they belong to something bigger, a brother or sisterhood if you will. Mike Shimizu does not foster that unity. Showing extreme favoritism does not foster unity. Rather, it has the opposite effect; those who are in favor, continue on as they always have, but those who do not, or even those who feel as though they do not, lose in more ways than one. A negative experience, a negative influence, even one time, can change the course of a student's life. The damage that can be done with a few words or a lack of leadership can devastate someone. Mike Shimizu has a responsibility to all of the boys in the soccer program, mostly to be someone who they respect and look up to, but even some of the best players who have played in the program have left, for a variety of reasons, one of which was because they no longer wanted to play for Shimizu. I've been an educator for over 20 years and I know the importance of guiding and building strong students. I've also been a coach and a tutor and I never claim to do anything right, but I lead by example and when I make a mistake, and I do, I admit it and I try to move forward. I also know what my weaknesses are and I compensate by listening to those around me who can help, support and guide me to be a better leader and role model for young people. What bothers me the most is that Mike Shimizu runs the West High Soccer program devoid of a sensitivity to the fact that he is in a position to change the lives of these boys, particularly in a positive way. It is a responsibility that he has failed to live up to, at least in the time that I have witnessed it. It is far more realistic to tell a player that he will never move up or that his chances are very slim or even to cut him than to give him false hope and then treat him poorly. What does that teach him? What kind of men are going to be produced from a program that fails to uphold the one quality that I have been lucky enough to have in the coaches of my youth, respect. If players don't respect their coaches, then there is no program. I think that Mike Everson, Zack Williams and Herb are examples of the kind of coaches who can help the boys really develop, but, in all, Mike Shimizu is not and I feel very badly for those young boys who will suffer under his so called "leadership." I'd like to think that the pen is mightier than the sword and ultimately that this writing will lead to something bigger but I doubt that. I know what will happen; people will have their opinions and that is fine, but in the end, I wrote this for Jake and for our family and to put out into the universe the notion that if something doesn't feel right and it doesn't sit well with you, even if you can't wholly identify why, then it's still fine to say it, to do something about it, to know that in your heart that you said what you needed to say and you moved on. I also feel like I can say this because I have a great son; Jake is a kind, loving, loyal young man who will grow up to be a wonderful man. It shameful that Mike Shimizu didn't recognize all of the good in Jake, the potential, the talent and it saddens me that he won't get the opportunity to continue on with his friends. But, at the end of the day, I can honestly say that while Jake has always had my love and my loyalty, with this decision and with the integrity and dignity with which he handled the situation, he will forever have my respect. Mike Shimizu should be so lucky...

A consideration...

It's impossible to know what to do sometimes. You sit there, you ponder, you even discuss ideas with loved ones, yet, ultimately, you feel like you are right back where you started. I often wonder about people who say that they have "revelations" or "epiphanies," although I myself may have made such a claim on occasion, but I wonder because if you have a revelation and you change your life, your focus, your "whatever," but then, eventually, you fall... back into the pattern, the lifestyle, the addiction, can you then really call it a revelatory experience? Is "revelation" momentary or is it just a word that means we know what we need to do, but whether we succeed or not? That remains to be seen. I'm back in therapy; it's evident from the opening paragraph of this monologue, is it not? And the more I go, the more I question... myself, others, life, but, not always in a healthy way. I don't see therapy as revelatory, rather, I see it as an opportunity to examine those thoughts in a non-linear type of way. I examine them as they come; I don't plan a course of action and for those of you who really know me, you can vouch for this statement. I go in to the office, I sit, I usually begin with some anecdote that has nothing to do with anything of importance and then, it spirals into something else. An hour of therapy is a true parallel for what happens in my daily life, regardless of whether I am the cause or something else is, some bigger force that I cannot understand. As the weeks pass, I am learning new ways to "set" my mind and approaches to understanding why what I have been doing in the past to try and cope just isn't working. It's interesting to be the subject of your own examination, kind of like taking all of your clothes off and scrutinizing every aspect of your body from head to toe. Who does that? We tend to look at some things: fine lines, cellulite, our best feature, but then, we zip the jacket, pull down the hat, dim the light and move on. To say that it's hard to self examine is an understatement; it requires a level of philosphical objectivity that I just don't have and so, the therapist... I haven't written in a couple of months although there have been many topics about which I would have liked to express my point of view. I just haven't been in the right frame of mine, no pun intended. And upon revealing that I do indeed have a diagnosis of ADD, I have delved into the world of self-help books and clinical material that is intended to help me work my way through the maze that is my brain. The more I read, in this particular case, the more I really am beginning to understand my entire personality and life thus far. So much is making sense now and, in addition to that, I have become hyper aware of others who suffer, and, I use that term with trepidation, because the condition creates a kind of havoc and chaos that you really have to have explained to you. That may be through literature, by a doctor or in the deep self examination that not many people really do in their lifetimes. Think about the naked mirror thing again. We tend to concentrate on the pieces and not the whole. Brain circuitry or an examination of, is the same. I'm not a neurologist, but when I choose to do something or when I do it not of my own volition, it creates a ripple effect in the lives of those around me. It's been hard; this last year especially has been very hard. I wish I could say that having ADD is a negative thing overall, but really, it's not. Yes, there are issues that will never go away and those issues create other issues with my relationships, with my job, with my life. I say things and do things and am a certain way that makes life exponentially more difficult for those who know me and, that makes me feel badly. I am trying to address that now. I am trying not to spiral or to cry as much or to think about what I'm not instead of what I am. I'm learning to "try" to see this as an opportunity for what makes me unique, not special, but unique in the way that no two stones are alike or stars or fingerprints. Many people will say that I should concentrate on the good; think good thoughts, be happy and everything will be okay. I think that's a crock of shit but if it works for some people then I can't really criticize, but that hasn't and won't work for me. Trying to focus on what makes me unique helps me to see that for every problem or conflict that I cause or am engaged in, there are equal amounts of good in what I try to do. People with ADD tend to be inherently creative, spontaneous, impulsive, excitable and fun. They also lose things a lot, criticize, feel irrationally angry or judgemental. I guess overall, concentrating on what makes you YOU is a good thing, in a very simple kind of way. But if that concentration requires objectivity, well, that's where my mind straps on its boots and heads for the nearest exit. What is objective to me, what makes perfect sense to me, makes no sense to those around me. And, it's hard to have to constantly try to explain yourself; it's exhausting. In Greek mythology, Sisyphus' punishment was to push a boulder up a steep incline, but when he reached the top, the boulder would roll back down and he would have to start again, for all eternity. That is exactly what it feels like to have ADD. It might be exercise or a load of laundry, grading a stack of papers, keeping the car clean, but, no matter what it is, the boulder rolls back down and often it does so mid push... Recently I've learned that untreated ADD can have debilitating effects on the brain over time. So, I am now considering medication. Let me pause for those of you who are smiling and saying, "Amen!Why didn't she think of that sooner?" But truly, there is a lot to consider. My therapist told me that it will not radically change anything, but if it improves my life by percentages, well then, that's something. He also told me that I chose well in a husband and in a profession. Really, with all of the things that I've fucked up in my life, something was bound to work out... I feel like a video game sometimes, lots of flashing lights, sounds and multiple levels but, the really sad part is, out of those times, there are so many where I can't let anyone in to help me maneuver around. I've lost friends, opportunities, days with my family because I couldn't get a grasp on what was happening in my brain and so I just shut it off. There are times when, after I drop the kids off at school, I just lay in bed, for 6 hours and watch the t.v. without really watching the t.v.; I turn into someone who I don't know. And for that reason alone, I'm back in therapy. It really is a paradox, when you yearn for simplicity but you create complexity. I just want primary colors without all of the other possibilities. That would make life easier most days. But then again, would I really want to live in a world without a blending of those shades? I don't know. I truly don't know. Do the right thing. Be kind. Open yourself up to the universe. I will try... but on the days when I don't, be patient for, "This too shall pass..." Happy Veteran's Day. Thank you to all who serve or have served. A thousand blessings to you and your families!