The following is a facebook post I wrote on January 20, 2009:
It is awkward to sit in a class on exceptionalities discussing things that I have been diagnosed with.
To hear people make ignorant comments and speak without knowledge. Perhaps I should not be writing this on here, but I don't feel up to curbing my inclination to wear my heart on my sleeve. It's just my style. So be it.
Sometimes I think I might be on a mission--in my classroom someday, certainly, but maybe something bigger as well. I have always prayed that God would use all of my pain, every hurtful thing I've dealt with, to help someone else. He has given me a lot of those opportunities already and will continue to do so. I know that, but something within me calls me to something bigger that I don't really understand. It has to do with the following:
1. I have been diagnosed with OCD, Anxiety, Depression, and AD-ADHD. A little PTSD as well, if you want some more letters.
2. Other people struggle with these things too, starting at a very young age.
3. These things are not easy to talk about and bring on feelings of humiliation.
4. Many children have families who won't know what is happening as they struggle with these issues.
5. There are a lot of haters out there.
I had help dealing with OCD from the time I was five years old. No one told me I had OCD. No one threw medicine at me. I had someone who guided me through it and taught me how to combat it. She saw me for ten years. I don't know where I'd be without her, actually. I had parents who knew what was wrong, and an extended family that supported me. I didn't tell anyone at school. I didn't tell anyone until I was about ten, actually. I struggled with thoughts and worries that at times completely consumed me. I was embarrassed. I felt guilty. I felt things that no child should ever feel. Yet, I will tell you today that I had the most perfect childhood in the world. I was struggling a lot, but I was in the best possible situation for that struggling. If I had not been, if I had been in a family that didn't know anything about mental illness; a family that thought therapy was a crock; a family that thought I was crazy, I never would have made it. I'm not trying to be dramatic, but it is the truth. I never could have had success.
The children in the families who don't know as much about these problems are the ones I worry about. The children who think they are insane. It's such an overwhelming problem to me. I don't know how to handle it, but I hope I can make a difference through teaching and through writing.
In dealing with depression, I have had people tell me that it is my fault for holding on to the sadness. I should just give it to God, and if I really meant it, it would be gone. (Like I hadn't tried a hundred times.) I have been told I should not take medicine. I talked to a member of my family who has also battled depression. He said that there was nothing in his life he couldn't beat. Nothing that was stronger than his will...until he dealt with depression. He had to get medicine. He's perfectly fine, now.
No one tells a diabetic to go off their insulin and give their diabetes (or diabeetuhs, Doug) over to the Lord. I can't help that the chemicals in my brain aren't right. So I take medicine to fix that. It seems simple enough. But there is so much shame that can accompany that. How will people see me? I think it is ridiculous that people with no experience or expertise feel the right to sit and judge how something should be treated and if it is or is not real. How arrogant to think they know better. How arrogant to say they could just give it to God when they've never dealt with it. Someone wise told me the story of the man stranded at sea. Rescuers sent a boat to save him, but he said, "No! God will save me!" They sent a helicopter, but the man refused, "No! My God will save me!" And so on. The man drowned. He asked God why he hadn't saved him. God said, "I sent the boat, I sent the helicopter, etc."
As far as AD-ADHD goes, I don't know that anything has knocked my self-esteem like this has. I did not get diagnosed until 2007. Twenty years old. After a lifetime of forgetting. Being told I had no common sense. Knowing I was intelligent but feeling like an idiot. Getting my first B because I'd forgotten homework. Getting my conduct grade docked because I left things in my backpack. Forgetting my books at school. Setting my alarm clock wrong. Being late for work.
What people have discovered is that a lot of people (particularly girls) don't get diagnosed until their twenties or when they hit college because they don't disrupt class or act up. Kids with really involved parents often go under the radar because their parents are helping them remember everything. That would be me. Then college hit. As my old roommates can tell you, it was not easy. Between that and the other things I dealt with, I had a hard time. I am so grateful for the people that helped me when I wouldn't help myself. How blessed I am to have friends who were willing to get me up in the morning and drag me out of bed to class when I overslept or set my alarm wrong. The same friends who never judged me when I was dealing with some pretty tough things. They were just there. And for that, I hope they know I am eternally grateful.
I suppose I am writing this because I had to get some help this week from my school. I am really having a hard time with this. It's a pride thing I guess. Ha! Pride, says the girl who writes an expose on her mental malfunctions! Really, though, I was doing my very best. It wasn't enough. I still forget where my classrooms are (this is only acceptable freshman year). I run late. I forget to do assignments. Pretty humiliating, really. Then to go to a class and hear people talk about ADHD...especially knowing that one of the people in that class explicity said she didn't believe in ADHD...well, it wasn't easy.
To top it off, I'm having a bit of a senior breakdown. I am, in a word, scared. I am happier than I've ever been, completely in love with my best friend, and ready for the next chapter of my life. I want to get O-U-T of U-.S-.I. and move on. I want my own classroom and my own students. But, I'm scared. Scared because my friends are moving all over the place. It was one thing to go to college all over Indiana. Quite another to move away and get a big girl job. I've heard that you find friends in high school but your bridesmaids in college. Nice little sentiment but completely untrue for both Matt and me. I have probably met only two people that will be lifelong friends from college. I had the best friends anyone could ask for before I ever came to U.S.I. I had all my bridesmaids, Caty being the exception, of course. Now my bridesmaids may be scattered across the four corners of the earth when I get married (that expression makes no sense, being that the earth is round).
I'm scared because I don't feel ready for Student Teaching. I hear this is common. My dad says that Student Teaching will be what prepares me for teaching. He laughed when I said, "So, basically, nothing prepares you for Student Teaching." He called it a trial by fire. I guess that's life, really. One big trial by fire.
Someday, maybe I will write for children who are scared. Maybe I will write to adults who are scared. Perhaps I will write a book and tell people that it is okay to talk about these things. I can attest to the fact that there is hope. I have gone through days where I thought I would not make it through the rest of my life. Days when I could not smile or get out of bed. Do I still struggle? Yes. Does depression have a hold on my life? Not anymore. Hiding from people doesn't do much good. I was reading the other day where I had written that I wanted to be "unapologetically me." Perhaps this is a critical step in that direction. This is me. Take me or leave me.
"I will exalt you, Lord, for you have lifted me out of the depths..."
Psalm 30:1
It is awkward to sit in a class on exceptionalities discussing things that I have been diagnosed with.
To hear people make ignorant comments and speak without knowledge. Perhaps I should not be writing this on here, but I don't feel up to curbing my inclination to wear my heart on my sleeve. It's just my style. So be it.
Sometimes I think I might be on a mission--in my classroom someday, certainly, but maybe something bigger as well. I have always prayed that God would use all of my pain, every hurtful thing I've dealt with, to help someone else. He has given me a lot of those opportunities already and will continue to do so. I know that, but something within me calls me to something bigger that I don't really understand. It has to do with the following:
1. I have been diagnosed with OCD, Anxiety, Depression, and AD-ADHD. A little PTSD as well, if you want some more letters.
2. Other people struggle with these things too, starting at a very young age.
3. These things are not easy to talk about and bring on feelings of humiliation.
4. Many children have families who won't know what is happening as they struggle with these issues.
5. There are a lot of haters out there.
I had help dealing with OCD from the time I was five years old. No one told me I had OCD. No one threw medicine at me. I had someone who guided me through it and taught me how to combat it. She saw me for ten years. I don't know where I'd be without her, actually. I had parents who knew what was wrong, and an extended family that supported me. I didn't tell anyone at school. I didn't tell anyone until I was about ten, actually. I struggled with thoughts and worries that at times completely consumed me. I was embarrassed. I felt guilty. I felt things that no child should ever feel. Yet, I will tell you today that I had the most perfect childhood in the world. I was struggling a lot, but I was in the best possible situation for that struggling. If I had not been, if I had been in a family that didn't know anything about mental illness; a family that thought therapy was a crock; a family that thought I was crazy, I never would have made it. I'm not trying to be dramatic, but it is the truth. I never could have had success.
The children in the families who don't know as much about these problems are the ones I worry about. The children who think they are insane. It's such an overwhelming problem to me. I don't know how to handle it, but I hope I can make a difference through teaching and through writing.
In dealing with depression, I have had people tell me that it is my fault for holding on to the sadness. I should just give it to God, and if I really meant it, it would be gone. (Like I hadn't tried a hundred times.) I have been told I should not take medicine. I talked to a member of my family who has also battled depression. He said that there was nothing in his life he couldn't beat. Nothing that was stronger than his will...until he dealt with depression. He had to get medicine. He's perfectly fine, now.
No one tells a diabetic to go off their insulin and give their diabetes (or diabeetuhs, Doug) over to the Lord. I can't help that the chemicals in my brain aren't right. So I take medicine to fix that. It seems simple enough. But there is so much shame that can accompany that. How will people see me? I think it is ridiculous that people with no experience or expertise feel the right to sit and judge how something should be treated and if it is or is not real. How arrogant to think they know better. How arrogant to say they could just give it to God when they've never dealt with it. Someone wise told me the story of the man stranded at sea. Rescuers sent a boat to save him, but he said, "No! God will save me!" They sent a helicopter, but the man refused, "No! My God will save me!" And so on. The man drowned. He asked God why he hadn't saved him. God said, "I sent the boat, I sent the helicopter, etc."
As far as AD-ADHD goes, I don't know that anything has knocked my self-esteem like this has. I did not get diagnosed until 2007. Twenty years old. After a lifetime of forgetting. Being told I had no common sense. Knowing I was intelligent but feeling like an idiot. Getting my first B because I'd forgotten homework. Getting my conduct grade docked because I left things in my backpack. Forgetting my books at school. Setting my alarm clock wrong. Being late for work.
What people have discovered is that a lot of people (particularly girls) don't get diagnosed until their twenties or when they hit college because they don't disrupt class or act up. Kids with really involved parents often go under the radar because their parents are helping them remember everything. That would be me. Then college hit. As my old roommates can tell you, it was not easy. Between that and the other things I dealt with, I had a hard time. I am so grateful for the people that helped me when I wouldn't help myself. How blessed I am to have friends who were willing to get me up in the morning and drag me out of bed to class when I overslept or set my alarm wrong. The same friends who never judged me when I was dealing with some pretty tough things. They were just there. And for that, I hope they know I am eternally grateful.
I suppose I am writing this because I had to get some help this week from my school. I am really having a hard time with this. It's a pride thing I guess. Ha! Pride, says the girl who writes an expose on her mental malfunctions! Really, though, I was doing my very best. It wasn't enough. I still forget where my classrooms are (this is only acceptable freshman year). I run late. I forget to do assignments. Pretty humiliating, really. Then to go to a class and hear people talk about ADHD...especially knowing that one of the people in that class explicity said she didn't believe in ADHD...well, it wasn't easy.
To top it off, I'm having a bit of a senior breakdown. I am, in a word, scared. I am happier than I've ever been, completely in love with my best friend, and ready for the next chapter of my life. I want to get O-U-T of U-.S-.I. and move on. I want my own classroom and my own students. But, I'm scared. Scared because my friends are moving all over the place. It was one thing to go to college all over Indiana. Quite another to move away and get a big girl job. I've heard that you find friends in high school but your bridesmaids in college. Nice little sentiment but completely untrue for both Matt and me. I have probably met only two people that will be lifelong friends from college. I had the best friends anyone could ask for before I ever came to U.S.I. I had all my bridesmaids, Caty being the exception, of course. Now my bridesmaids may be scattered across the four corners of the earth when I get married (that expression makes no sense, being that the earth is round).
I'm scared because I don't feel ready for Student Teaching. I hear this is common. My dad says that Student Teaching will be what prepares me for teaching. He laughed when I said, "So, basically, nothing prepares you for Student Teaching." He called it a trial by fire. I guess that's life, really. One big trial by fire.
Someday, maybe I will write for children who are scared. Maybe I will write to adults who are scared. Perhaps I will write a book and tell people that it is okay to talk about these things. I can attest to the fact that there is hope. I have gone through days where I thought I would not make it through the rest of my life. Days when I could not smile or get out of bed. Do I still struggle? Yes. Does depression have a hold on my life? Not anymore. Hiding from people doesn't do much good. I was reading the other day where I had written that I wanted to be "unapologetically me." Perhaps this is a critical step in that direction. This is me. Take me or leave me.
"I will exalt you, Lord, for you have lifted me out of the depths..."
Psalm 30:1
Comments