And sometimes they just hurt...

Last night, my daughter broke my heart.  As we walked upstairs to bed, she said, "Mommy, I wish I were normal like all the other kids. I don't want to have ADHD. I am the only kid in my class that has to leave to take a pill in the afternoon.  I want to be like everyone else. I don't want to have a disorder."  I stifled my urge to cry, and explained to her that she IS normal, she just has ADHD.  Some kids have diabetes, some have allergies, and there are probably other kids in her class that have ADHD as well, but perhaps only take a pill in the morning.  She then said, "But you're normal, Mommy.  You don't have anything."  I told her about a few of my health conditions, as well as my Bipolar 2 disorder.  I most likely also have adult ADHD.  Though I have never been diagnosed, I have all the symptoms, and had the same issues that she had when I was a child.  It was near impossible for me to concentrate in class, I was hyperactive, and I was labeled as a "classic underachiever".  I cannot recall how many times my parents were told that I wasn't living up to my potential.  We just didn't have Ritalin or Concerta.  Luckily, she does.

By the time our daughter was diagnosed, it was merely a formality.  I knew she was different from infancy.  She cried louder, was more restless than most babies, and, when she was around other children as a toddler, the differences seemed profound.  We could not turn our backs for one moment, and, though I have philosophical issues with "helicoptering", the few times I decided to relax and give her some space, she ended up in Urgent Care, even the ER.  She tested for ADHD when she was 6, and pretty much scored at the top of the charts.  Though we were nervous about medicating her, we knew it was the right thing to do, as she was struggling in school and was not happy that she couldn't focus and was getting in trouble.  One day, Redmond forgot to give her morning pill, and ran back home to pick it up.  When he arrived back at school, she was on the floor tearing little strips of paper and acting out.  The teacher said, "I know that sometimes kids are medicated who don't really need it, but your daughter is not one of those kids."  She has to take a pill in the morning, and one in the afternoon, which means she is called out to see the nurse while still at school.  This is humiliating to her, as she doesn't like calling attention to her differences.

I tried to explain to her that one day, she will relish being unique, and that children with ADHD are often extremely creative, as she is.  I believe that for every disadvantage we have, there is a gift that comes with it.  I struggle with depression and hypomania, but I believe my struggles make me more intuitive and compassionate with others, and I believe my ability to write poetry and to create music is somehow tied up with my disorder.  I am also grateful that I am largely controlled by medication and can live a reasonably stable life.  I know many bipolar folks who are deeply ashamed of their condition, but I am almost proud of mine.  I wouldn't be the person I am if I hadn't struggled with bipolar; nor would be I be the person I am if I hadn't experienced bullying as a child.  I don't see the need in looking back with bitterness or regrets.  In fact, if I was offered the opportunity to be "cured" of my BPD, I would turn it down, as I have no idea what gifts I would lose in the process.

Still, an 8 year old is not going to see the silver lining in a diagnosis that ends with the word "Disorder". I like to think of ADHD as a certain kind of temperament, albeit one that presents problems in our modern world, but perhaps a temperament that might have served humans well at some point in history. I would much prefer ADHD to be called something different- to jettison the word "disorder", but that's probably too much to ask our psychiatric community.  Fact is, because of our lifestyles, our educational system, and the way our society is structured, it is difficult to manage the world around us with ADHD.  I often lament that homeschooling isn't really an option for us, but, then again, she will have to live in a world I cannot control or manage for her, so perhaps it's best for her to learn how to live in the same kind of environment in which she will ultimately be living and working. 

I can try to soothe her hurt and pain as best I can, to try to help her understand that she is a special and worthy human being just as she is, but an 8 year old is only going to see that she is Different with a capital D, and it will probably take years before she can embrace her differences.  I only hope she'll carry my words with her, even if she can't accept them now.