This was written six years ago I am doing fine, and do not regret having been through anything in my life Tony
I an a person who has been diagnosed with ADHD. My wife signed me up for a seminar on that subject. I was excited about going on it. Being the curious person I paid my eighteen dollars and met with a acquaintance from church. I had just been diagnosed with the illness so the doctors prescription of Welbutrin and Paxil was causing my mind too play tricks on me. The Doctor before my nervous breakdown prescribed Ritalin, buts that's another story.
When I was taking Ritalin I could climb mountains, walk on water, not task couldn't be accomplished. I would drive down the highway to Ludington, Michigan,cranking up too Led Zeppelin. I would gaze at the trees as they told me their secrets in my mind. The problem with the pre-breakdown state was I lived for Ritalin:it was my synthetic Jesus. I could walk and talk and listen at the same time. My personal life was great, for I could paint the bathroom and clean the garage in one day. I was a racehorse going around the track in first place, ahead of my old self. For my new shell was invincible, reckless in my world complete. Then its effects would not last long, my mind would go up and down, like a ship in a spring storm.
The day I sank was an overwhelming experience. Driving my white Service van, on the job, it hit me. The old habits were coming back, forgetfulness,anxiety, and scatterbrain. The boss and the workers were frustrated with me that I could not be the person they wanted me to be.I just wanted to be my own self something with character and individuality. Tired of the shame of failure, I wept. The tears of pain and all those years of failing, and getting backed up, dusting off my pride. I could not remove this dirt though; it was scalded on my forehead.
Snapping as a small child whose dog was ran over, I pouted and sobbed. People at work witnessed my breakdown. Giving up all responsibility to authority was a relief. Driving to the therapist, I sobbed. Talking to Wesley was a relief. Explaining to him all of my fears and doubts about today's society lightened my load. For I was helping my son Andrew with homework the day before, I was seeing a reflection of my childhood. The images were in my mind grinding my spine.
I was in third grade, and all I wanted to do was look out the window. Seeing the dust float in the room, like snowflakes in a blizzard. The round glass clocks back then had a second hand. The fluorescent lights would hum and every time the clock would click a nail would be hammered in my brain. The windows resembled bars in a juvenile prison, steel and safety glass. My desk was an electric chair, I felt strapped down, helpless. The teacher would write on the board, and the chalk on slate sounded like morbid Violin music. All I could think about was recess,riding home on the bus for lunch.
The bell would ring and we would go on the Yellow bus number five. Mrs. Mylenick was a young lady then and she was my bus driver. Dropped of a bloc from my house, the dead end road was a path to Mom's Mecca. Mother would have lunch for us. Carl Oches with his big teeth would eat lunch with us. His mother worked, so mom would feed him, somethings she's good at. Angie's food was not good enough for him though, I would cringe, as Mom would open a can of Campbell's pea soup into a old copper cauldron, simmering. He would slurp down the murky pea soup, and would refuse to eat mother's oatmeal cookies; I was insulted by his behavior, for mom's cooking is the best. After eating I would walk down to the bus stop and go back to school.School was painful for me and the memories were coming back through my son Andrew.
Falling to my knees weeping in front of Wesley, I told him about High School. I had fooled them til tenth grade. The high school counselor thought I was the same bloodline of my sisters, they had a preconceived notion of me. Assuming school was easier for me they assigned Geometry and German. Those painful G's would torture my mind. The teachers tried their best, but I could not stay focused and dropped out of college prep classed. School was something I could deal with,for it was simplified. Mother told me "I did my best and that's what matters." I have no regrets about High School.
After I gained my composure, I recalled the days of college. Those days were overwhelming, I , was a short kid with acne, but cute. The first day of college was tough, and it became tougher. Working thirty-five hours a week at Mc Donalds was overwhelming. Stressed out I contracted Mono and forgot to drop my classes. Eight weeks later I received a bill and all F's on my report card.
Getting back up is a trait of mine, for I am stubborn. The call to serve was my last chance. Leaving my Mother's skirt, I was determined to be a soldier. I barely survived, twelve years later, I married Sue, and we have three children. My life is good, but something was ticking in my brain,(Failure)-(Scatterbrain)-(Idiot) authority is something I do not like. Worked crashed down on me, and I am ready to explain later. After talking with Wesly three times, I thought I was "Cured". Having a polite conversation with my Boss, I had a list of complaints about my work conditions, demanding retribution. Assuming that my demand would be met, I Anthony D Moulds, was yelled at and told that I had a problem. Being in that position before, this meant it was time to get into fight mode. How dare this normal "prick" judge me for something I can't be, a "normal Prick." Since taking medications I can write proficiently, but you can't my mind away from me. Life is strange;for all I want to do is write down thoughts and emotions, words come at me as rapid machine gun fire, and I just try to catch the bullets in my pen as superman.
I'm sitting in a room full of ADHD ADULTS, doesn't this sound like the beginning of a tasteless joke. The Shrink tells examples of her ADHD Nephew, and the simple task of taking out the garbage. What's trash anyway, I think "Standardization is trash", we all cannot be the same. The doting Spinster Aunt explains that she has to give four steps to get the task done, or it will not be accomplished. "Take the trash out of the can and tie it up,put it in the can,roll it out to the curb, past the Mailbox." Raising my branded hand I tell her " Maybe your Nephew has different priorities than you." Then she talks about the three types of ADHD,by now I am in the third grade again, I hear the water fountain humming, the footsteps in the hallway. Rudely I ask her"Why do I have to take medications for this dis-order, I have lived with it for thirty -eight years." She has her own ADHD episode of selective hearing and doesn't answer my question.
Oh yes there are four women in this class and two men, one has his supportive wife, and I am with some friend at church . This class should be called, "How others should deal with the rarity of ADHD a gift from God." The World thinks we all should be standardized, I do not think so. What is going on in the other clinically labeled humans? I could feel the emotional fusion of brains as this Psychologist babbled about her previous Clients and how she handled them. I think she's the one with a problem. Where was I?
Tony Moulds
I an a person who has been diagnosed with ADHD. My wife signed me up for a seminar on that subject. I was excited about going on it. Being the curious person I paid my eighteen dollars and met with a acquaintance from church. I had just been diagnosed with the illness so the doctors prescription of Welbutrin and Paxil was causing my mind too play tricks on me. The Doctor before my nervous breakdown prescribed Ritalin, buts that's another story.
When I was taking Ritalin I could climb mountains, walk on water, not task couldn't be accomplished. I would drive down the highway to Ludington, Michigan,cranking up too Led Zeppelin. I would gaze at the trees as they told me their secrets in my mind. The problem with the pre-breakdown state was I lived for Ritalin:it was my synthetic Jesus. I could walk and talk and listen at the same time. My personal life was great, for I could paint the bathroom and clean the garage in one day. I was a racehorse going around the track in first place, ahead of my old self. For my new shell was invincible, reckless in my world complete. Then its effects would not last long, my mind would go up and down, like a ship in a spring storm.
The day I sank was an overwhelming experience. Driving my white Service van, on the job, it hit me. The old habits were coming back, forgetfulness,anxiety, and scatterbrain. The boss and the workers were frustrated with me that I could not be the person they wanted me to be.I just wanted to be my own self something with character and individuality. Tired of the shame of failure, I wept. The tears of pain and all those years of failing, and getting backed up, dusting off my pride. I could not remove this dirt though; it was scalded on my forehead.
Snapping as a small child whose dog was ran over, I pouted and sobbed. People at work witnessed my breakdown. Giving up all responsibility to authority was a relief. Driving to the therapist, I sobbed. Talking to Wesley was a relief. Explaining to him all of my fears and doubts about today's society lightened my load. For I was helping my son Andrew with homework the day before, I was seeing a reflection of my childhood. The images were in my mind grinding my spine.
I was in third grade, and all I wanted to do was look out the window. Seeing the dust float in the room, like snowflakes in a blizzard. The round glass clocks back then had a second hand. The fluorescent lights would hum and every time the clock would click a nail would be hammered in my brain. The windows resembled bars in a juvenile prison, steel and safety glass. My desk was an electric chair, I felt strapped down, helpless. The teacher would write on the board, and the chalk on slate sounded like morbid Violin music. All I could think about was recess,riding home on the bus for lunch.
The bell would ring and we would go on the Yellow bus number five. Mrs. Mylenick was a young lady then and she was my bus driver. Dropped of a bloc from my house, the dead end road was a path to Mom's Mecca. Mother would have lunch for us. Carl Oches with his big teeth would eat lunch with us. His mother worked, so mom would feed him, somethings she's good at. Angie's food was not good enough for him though, I would cringe, as Mom would open a can of Campbell's pea soup into a old copper cauldron, simmering. He would slurp down the murky pea soup, and would refuse to eat mother's oatmeal cookies; I was insulted by his behavior, for mom's cooking is the best. After eating I would walk down to the bus stop and go back to school.School was painful for me and the memories were coming back through my son Andrew.
Falling to my knees weeping in front of Wesley, I told him about High School. I had fooled them til tenth grade. The high school counselor thought I was the same bloodline of my sisters, they had a preconceived notion of me. Assuming school was easier for me they assigned Geometry and German. Those painful G's would torture my mind. The teachers tried their best, but I could not stay focused and dropped out of college prep classed. School was something I could deal with,for it was simplified. Mother told me "I did my best and that's what matters." I have no regrets about High School.
After I gained my composure, I recalled the days of college. Those days were overwhelming, I , was a short kid with acne, but cute. The first day of college was tough, and it became tougher. Working thirty-five hours a week at Mc Donalds was overwhelming. Stressed out I contracted Mono and forgot to drop my classes. Eight weeks later I received a bill and all F's on my report card.
Getting back up is a trait of mine, for I am stubborn. The call to serve was my last chance. Leaving my Mother's skirt, I was determined to be a soldier. I barely survived, twelve years later, I married Sue, and we have three children. My life is good, but something was ticking in my brain,(Failure)-(Scatterbrain)-(Idiot) authority is something I do not like. Worked crashed down on me, and I am ready to explain later. After talking with Wesly three times, I thought I was "Cured". Having a polite conversation with my Boss, I had a list of complaints about my work conditions, demanding retribution. Assuming that my demand would be met, I Anthony D Moulds, was yelled at and told that I had a problem. Being in that position before, this meant it was time to get into fight mode. How dare this normal "prick" judge me for something I can't be, a "normal Prick." Since taking medications I can write proficiently, but you can't my mind away from me. Life is strange;for all I want to do is write down thoughts and emotions, words come at me as rapid machine gun fire, and I just try to catch the bullets in my pen as superman.
I'm sitting in a room full of ADHD ADULTS, doesn't this sound like the beginning of a tasteless joke. The Shrink tells examples of her ADHD Nephew, and the simple task of taking out the garbage. What's trash anyway, I think "Standardization is trash", we all cannot be the same. The doting Spinster Aunt explains that she has to give four steps to get the task done, or it will not be accomplished. "Take the trash out of the can and tie it up,put it in the can,roll it out to the curb, past the Mailbox." Raising my branded hand I tell her " Maybe your Nephew has different priorities than you." Then she talks about the three types of ADHD,by now I am in the third grade again, I hear the water fountain humming, the footsteps in the hallway. Rudely I ask her"Why do I have to take medications for this dis-order, I have lived with it for thirty -eight years." She has her own ADHD episode of selective hearing and doesn't answer my question.
Oh yes there are four women in this class and two men, one has his supportive wife, and I am with some friend at church . This class should be called, "How others should deal with the rarity of ADHD a gift from God." The World thinks we all should be standardized, I do not think so. What is going on in the other clinically labeled humans? I could feel the emotional fusion of brains as this Psychologist babbled about her previous Clients and how she handled them. I think she's the one with a problem. Where was I?
Tony Moulds
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