ADHD: adventure, debacle, hysteria, delight

Okay so I've already mentioned that I was literally confused as a child...traumatized by my own literal interpretations of the world around me. I was the only one who never saw the fork in the road and was convinced it was a conspiracy!

So how did I get around this language barrier? I studied...I studied people. I watched their facial expressions and studied their movements, always on the lookout for a telling sign, or a clue, any clue to signify that what they were saying, was or wasn't, really what they were saying.

I remember once when I was quite young, 4 or 5 or so...my mother laying face down on her bed, covering her face with her arms...and she was crying. My mother never cried! I remember climbing up onto my mother's bed and asking her why she was crying?
"I was fired..." she said and then garbled out a bunch of other words, but I don't know what else she was saying because the word "fired" was pounding in my ears!
"What does that mean?!" I had visuals of my mother being lit on fire and burned at the stake. Can you imagine the terror this could spark in a child, a mother who never cries...sobbing with the news that she was fired?! The sad thing is, you probably can't imagine...because...well...I was just a weird child. I had my own unique interpretation of this language that everyone else spoke...everyone but me that is. I was always a few moments behind everyone else...delayed by the interpretation process or because I had completely misinterpreted what was being said and was imagining some sort of imminent disaster...a child left up to the mercy of their own imagination...is not always a good thing! I had determined that my mother was going to be lit on fire?! I started to cry too. I remember my mother rolling over slightly and lifting her head from her arms, she gave me a curious look and asked me why I was crying?
"Oh mummy, I don't want them to fire you, I don't want you to die!" I threw myself onto her, hugging her for dear life, wondering when they were going to come and get her and take her away. I remember my mother laughing and wiping her face with her hands, as she explained to me what "fired" really meant. I remember still feeling a little frightened even after she had explained it...most likely from the adrenalin rush, but I also remember feeling happy and proud that I had made my mother feel better...now she was laughing instead of crying. Later, much later in life I found laughter to be key in coping with stress, as well as, being able to laugh at myself for my wild imagination!

I remember the morning my father died. We were at my memere's and pepere's house. All of us children had spent the night there. I remember watching Underdog on TV while I ate my raisin bran. I remember the telephone ringing. Memere and Pepere started to speak in french and their voices were getting louder and louder. I'd never heard them raises their voices ever! Soon after the phone call, I remember my mother coming to pick us up...but first she said she had something to tell us. She took us into the spare bedroom and told us that, "daddy had passed away." Bonnie and Kenny started to cry. Why were they crying? Passed away didn't sound scary? It sounded soothing...maybe it meant they had switched his hospital room or something? No, if that was all it meant than why were Bonnie and Kenny crying? My mind wasn't able to make sense of what I was hearing...the words, "passed away" plus the emotion I was witnessing. The two were not adding up.
"What does that mean?" I barely whispered. My mother was consoling us and saying things but I couldn't hear her. My mind was still trying to make sense of what "passed away" meant.
"What does that mean?!" I asked again a little louder this time. "Mumma, what does passed away mean?!" this time I was yelling. Demanding an answer, because my mind had started to do that thing again, of imagining the worst & scariest thing possible. But it wasn't just my imagination this time, this time it really was bad. It really did mean something scary. It meant he had died. Daddy had died.

But there were good "code" phrases too, such as "mailing a letter!" Growing up, "mailing letter" meant we were going for ice cream! This was one of the more fantastic type of misinterpretations until that is...we actually mailed a letter instead of getting ice cream! Then I was even more confused than ever.

I suppose my confusing childhood is why I remember my life so vividly. I was constantly sleuthing out the clues like a hound dog on the trail. Everything leading up to, whatever the incident was, and everything after, and everything in between! I suppose that is why I can describe a person's facial expressions and their movements in such detail and why I remember the most arbitrary things. They are lodged there in my memory recall just waiting to be called upon for assistance in translation.

Even still as an adult I struggle with my literal, visual brain and putting it all into the correct context. Once I remember sitting in a meeting with our SPED team discussing dressing up for the harvest parade, just biding our time until the BIG Boss Lady arrived. She was running late. Once she arrived she apologized and began pulling jewelery out of her purse and putting it on...explaining that she had not had the time to finish getting ready for the day. My eyes locked onto her brightly colored bracelets...watching them slide up and down her arms as she retrieved her notebook and pen. She was talking now and had started to say,
"...so you all should have read..."
I don't know what she said after that, because my mind had instantly attached to the word "read" and had put into the context of what I was seeing...her "bracelets" and to what we had just been talking about prior to her entrance into the meeting, "costumes." I instantly thought..."I didn't know we were supposed to wear red today? My eyes did a quick scan and realized no one was wearing red today, except for one person? I had learned as an adult, not to tune out for too long, in an attempt to translate...and entered my head back into what she was saying,
"...okay then...sooo...I assume everyone took time to read it?"
I chuckled out loud at my own ridiculousness. Once she said "read" with the "long E" sound, I understood what she was saying. I put it all into the correct context and could make sense of it. We were supposed to have read the new policies! The BIG Boss-lady, stopped talking and cocked her head to the side and with a helpless grin she asked "...what's so funny?" and despite herself she began chuckling too. My co-worker/direct supervisor, who knew me all too well, said "I'm sure you don't want to know...that's just Chris." and she began to chuckle too. But we all worked for Special Ed...I knew they would "get it"...so I explained and we all had a good laugh about it...and were jokingly told to wear red to the next meeting. It's not really one of those crack-me-up...laugh-so-hard kind of stories. It's just one of those, I can laugh at myself in a good-natured, I have ADHD, sort of way, stories. That's just me! Thanks Irene for getting me!

So yeah, that's just me! I have ADHD and that's okay because it has brought such thrilling mystery and adventure, instead of what could have been the most boring and humdrum of memories, into my life.

© Copyright 2010 Christine Maxwell