I wish that they sold courage. It is one thing that I find myself running short on quite frequently. My kids and husband with ADD/ADHD don’t seem to have that problem. I think that their impulsiveness works faster than they register fear. By the time their fear registers they’re already half way through the action and it’s too late for it to dominate the day.
I’ve really enjoyed writing the blog, sharing these experiences, our experiences with the world. I have seen how it has helped my family; I have seen how it has helped others who are dealing with similar issues. I’m not ADD/ADHD and what was a little bit of fear when I started the blog turned into a tornado when one day I started thinking about where I was headed with the blog and our plans for a book and documentary on ADD/ADHD and its multitude of co-occurring conditions.
I was paralyzed at the fork in the road. Do I continue with things as they are? Do I step it up and take things to the next level; write the book, make the documentary, go from a simple blogspot page to a website? Believe me when I say that I’ve really given it a lot of thought, too much thought. I think I’ve looked at it from every angle, picked it up, turned it over and over, and examined every possible outcome. I lined up an impressive number of “what ifs.”
“What ifs” feed on fear, my fear was never hungry. My fear was an over-eater. In fact, I went from do I keep things the same or do I press forward with the book and documentary to a third option. I could just walk away.
I kept thinking, and to be totally candid, I kept praying and searching.
As seems to be the case the answer came not in the wind, or in the earthquake, or in the fire. It came in simple everyday experiences and by a much quieter guide that is hard to hear or see over the loud voice of fear. (1 kings 19:11-12)
I wish I could share every story that made up my decision but I can’t – in part, they are not mine to share. The fact is, they are different circumstances but the experiences are the same. We are parents who feel overwhelmed, lost, and alone in our day to day struggle to help a child who is different. We are broken hearted as we watch our children compare themselves to kids who get it faster, focus easier, perform better in the scholastic world. We feel their pain as they compare themselves and in their eyes come up short over and over again. We fight that sense of failure, frustration, and pain trying desperately to help that child see what we have no problem seeing. We want the world to see this child the one that we know and love. But the world gets the over stimulated, frustrated, volatile child with insufficient social skills.
We don’t want to be chased down in the parking lot by the irate 1st grade teacher daily. We don’t want to be called by the principle over and over again. We don’t want to be looked at with disdain, implying we are negligent parents. Especially, because in reality we are doing all that we know how to do while searching desperately for the something more that might tip the scales in our favor for once.
The answer was I didn’t like feeling alone. I don’t want others to feel alone either. I feel it strongly enough to put my fear on a starvation diet. I feel it strongly enough to try and learn from my courageous impulsive family.
It is time to leap before I look.