I WOULDN'T BE WHO I AM ...

As an adult ADD, and I’ve survived a lot; elementary school through graduate school; office jobs that didn’t last, and high stress construction labor. I’ve survived business on my own; struggling solo with every role; bottom to top; you name it.

You know how hard it is in third-grade, but try 1953. They didn’t know learning disabilities back then. I had to stay after school one day to finish an arithmetic test. After 10 minutes I had to take a paddling; a swat for every problem I hadn’t finished. I had 10 problems to go when the bell rang. 10 minutes later, this frightened kid had 9. When I got home Mom and Dad did nothing about it. After all, I was a bright boy, and should have done better.

There’s more; the attitudes I experienced from teachers, mob bullying, my lack of friends and fights; oh, the fights. A black eye on my high school campus was usually mine, or I probably administered it.

I survived a 30-year self-imposed “exile” from my high school community because of my pain and; yes, embarrassment at my memories; but I’m back. I’ve reconnected with my surrogate siblings. Not surprisingly; but unfortunately; some of their memories center on our fights or on how they treated me. When they apologize, I assure them that it all went together to create a very special and compassionate person; and if I have an opportunity I thank them for being a part of my life.

I wouldn’t be who I am if I hadn’t been who I was.

I was able to go back because I’ve learned to truly love myself. Without me, none of my relationships exist. What I hated before hasn’t changed, but my attitude has. Those whom I considered tormentors in my youth are now friends I look forward to seeing.

IT'S WHO I AM.

I am Adult A.D.D. 

Some would have me say I’m an adult with A.D.D., but I’ve come to view this as who I am; not what I have.

Many seem to want us A.D.D’S to have “something wrong with us,” thinking that if we would make the effort we could change. Sadly, many have bought into that, but I’m luckily rather stubborn and have lived beyond that branding iron. I’ve settled into a fuller life with many valuable lessons that might not have come if I weren’t so “obstinate.”

Here’s one lesson nearly forty years past from my eldest brother, a Chaplain in an eastern-U.S hospital. It came about three years before I was diagnosed.

“You have to learn to love that in yourself which you now hate, or it will never change.”

“What a crock,” I told him. I was angry at something I can’t remember now, but I was enraged at myself for being unable to control my emotions. My anger built into a rage that I was well aware of. To me it was vile and needed to be torn out even if it destroyed my soul. Nobody else should be subjected to it.

A few years later, I got trapped into a colleague’s personal pity-party and tried to extricate myself with my brother’s words. Another similarly trapped colleague’s response carried the cusp of the lesson. Regarding her abusive ex, she yelled that she hated him and never wanted anything more to do with him. (Neither did his own family.)

“If that S.O.B. changed,” she practically screamed, “I’d have to love him again, and I’ll never do that.”

Simply, if we hate something or someone we would rather keep them as they are. It’s easier than swallowing our hatred and pride.

GOLD ISN’T REFINED IN THE FRIDGE.

Remember; I wrote about Eddie a few days ago. 

Once he and I were going opposite directions in the middle of the Rotunda into which prison cellhouses opened. As we passed, I asked, “How’s it going, Eddie?” I still laugh at his response.

“O-o-h, I can’t complain.  …  DAMN IT!”

“Can’t complain?” Really, now, we all COULD complain, but that would entangle us in a world wide web of negativity.

There ARE times for negativity, but far fewer than we usually find. 

At the prison, it was critical to be skeptical of everything; whether from inmates or the Warden. Even prison staff has been arrested for falling into a trap when they weren’t skeptical. There were many positive points about my work, but if I hadn’t been so disbelieving even they could have turned into nightmares.

I’m negative when buying cars. I don’t want salespeople along on the test drive. I don’t want to hear THEM. I want to hear the car telling me what I would likely want to complain about if I owned it. The sales pitch will mask that story.

But, life isn’t always like that.

I have far fewer opportunities for complaint than for praise. A list of things I COULD complain about wouldn’t take 200 words; unhappy childhood, distressed family of origin, violence in the home, time and opportunities lost and/or stolen, betrayal by those I thought to be friends, a broken neck 18 years ago. I know that each item could be, and has been, cause for far more verbosity than you will read here, but no amount of bitching ever changed anything.

On the other hand, my praise opportunities would take tens of thousands of words.

I’m certainly not the first and I won’t be the last one experiencing problems. That’s nothing new, and I have no grand insight from any of it.

SO; why do I write about it?

Actually, no grand insight is part of why I want to write; to assure everyone (including myself) that when things go wrong it is literally “nothing new under the sun.” Others have been this way before, and if we choose we can learn from them; growing through our adversity.

Many will follow, and just maybe what I say will help, or comfort at least one of them.

If we persevere, we all come out the better from adversity. No one comes through without pain and cuts and bruises; and a LOT of heat; but the journey is worth it. In fact, we need to learn to rejoice when adversity comes.

When things get hot and painful, remember; 

GOLD ISN’T REFINED IN THE FRIDGE.

WHO EVER SPENT THEMSELVES RICH?

We need them, but rich folks don’t spend themselves rich. They SAVE themselves rich; banking their money or investing it so that they earn more without sweating. So, why do some politicians keep telling us that giving financial breaks to rich folks leads to financial prosperity for everyone?

If they don’t spend themselves rich, how will they spend me rich?

The math is simple. Like all of us want to do, rich guys use money in ways that benefit themselves first and foremost. Poor guys get poor by spending their money, and admit it or not rich people benefit from that. That intensifies in “bad” times. 

Rich guys get the breaks, and poor guys pay the toll.

However, if money goes to poor and working folks, most of it will quickly be in the economy benefiting everyone; often within hours. Abjectly poor folks don’t have much option to save for a rainy day. They have debts to pay. Interestingly, when poor people pay their bills, rich guys get it anyhow. So, why not benefit both at once? It’s faster and really more effective; without nearly so much record keeping for rich folks.

On the other hand, money in rich guys’ hands will take months -- often a year or more -- of planning before cycling into the economy. Then, if a plan requires a facilities expansion, many more months can be eaten up. 

Giving them the money first just isn’t as effective as “conservative” politicians would lead us to believe.

All Locked Up

The locksmith at the prison where I worked as a Drafting Instructor was possibly the most ill-tempered person I’ve ever known. Everyone relied on Eddie, but his work was often backlogged 2 to 3 months; not that he couldn’t keep up. He simply chose what he wanted to do, letting the rest pile up. Department heads who complained would almost certainly see their work orders go to the bottom of the stack. With everyone angry with him it seemed that only the Warden could move him, although that wouldn’t last. He would soon be right back to his old ways.

An expansion was planned for my department and we needed our lock work on schedule to avoid extensive delays. His name came up in a Staff Meeting – again – and I can only suggest the anger that was expressed. At length I asked, “Has anyone ever tried using a little honey? Would it be worthwhile to try a little kindness instead the rage?” but literally everyone from top to bottom believed that you couldn’t be friends with him; that he would still turn on you if you turned your back.

Well, one thing I got from my dad was that when someone says, “It can’t be done,” I get to working out how it CAN be done. I began finding honest ways to be friendly with Eddie. When he was rude I was kind. Even when he cussed the world, I tried to find something about him that I liked. When he sat isolated from others in the dining hall I would sit with him; even when he became vocally rude to the inmate who served us, even when cussed the man and called the good food in front of us “slop.”

Slowly, he began trusting me; kind of looking forward to my kindness. I thought that even complaints in Staff Meetings about Eddie subsided. One day at lunch, I asked him about the lead time and work order for a lock on my desk drawer. He told me, “Don’t bother with a (severe expletive deleted) work-order. I’ll come up after lunch to check it out.” He came in about 15 minutes after lunch, but I still figured it would take several days to get my lock, but a half an hour later my drawer was lockable.

As my department expansion approached a few weeks later, I never wrote one work-order. Eddie would show up well ahead and ask me what I needed and/or wanted to have done. When the construction began, all the lock work was in place for installation or scheduled for quick installation. It was clear that whatever I needed, it would be handled expeditiously; regardless of whether or not anyone else’s work was done. I even got things done that no one believed Eddie would do for anyone.

Did I allow my friendship gestures to be a sham? NO!
 

Before I befriended him, I committed to BEING a friend, regardless of anything else, and I found things I really liked about him. I’m confident that our friendship helped him calm down and get to other work that was needed. I cherish the memories from our relationship, and even though he is deceased, he still often teaches me a lesson of humility or of something equally important at the time.