A Sarcastic Ass and a Poet

Well I am on a spree of sleepless nights (I wasn’t on my adhd med for a week and then took it late the other night–I’m all fucked up) so I thought I’d write to you about a few things: ADHD, a little on the moods in bipolar, a little Ptsd, destructive behavior, and sex.  Sound alright?

Well first, ADHD.  I’m in this group–it’s a totally limitless free-for-all for people with ADHD, and that is where I met the writer/blogger Tom Nardone (here’s his site, here’s his blog).  He has a hilarious view on ADHD (and it just so happens my ADHD is my only disorder I find quite funny).  If you get a chance, go read his stuff, and listen to his podcasts–total entertainment and eye-opening thoughts–he really gets you to look at yourself and think for yourself.

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But he got me thinking about how ADHD effects my life past and present.  When I was younger it wasn’t so prevalent–except I couldn’t read books/textbooks–had no clue what was going on in English and History).  It has to/had to be very stimulating to capture my attention (and what I find stimulating are things on emotional/sexual levels).  It wasn’t until my twenties that I began to chase after things I could never catch (comorbid with the PTSD), I was abusing drugs and very sexually active (way too active–even though the PtSD blocked all orgasming).  Later in my mid to late twenties I couldn’t focus or sit  still.  I was (always have been) EXTREMELY impulsive–with words, with reactions, with money, with drug, with people.  The PTSD came into effect full force in 2009 and my brain was a scramble.  I had projects all over the house, half-done, I was insatiable (and still not orgasming poor me), I was driving my then-fiance crazy.  As the illness took its toll and the hospitalizations began, I was finally treated for ADHD w/ Vyvanse.  A miracle (most of the time).  Over the  slow years I’m getting better but I still find myself obsessive with to-do lists (as Tom writes and talks about) and unpaid bills and a dirty house and all that jazz.  Not something I want my (oop hang on, facebook message) daughter to see.  I have reminder notes and bills and letters taped to my backdoor in case I forget the notes on the fridge, table, and bulletin board.  It’s ridiculous.  But as I’m becoming more in-tune with who I am becoming–a person I’ve never known–I’m waking up to how all of these illnesses effect my life.  I’ll admit it–it wasn’t fair for my fiance.  I would’ve left too.  Not at that time (when I was really sick) but some people can take it, some can’t.

The worst is when the mania mixes with the ADHD–which I didn’t really pay attention to until after discussing ADHD in that group and listening to Tom.  He by no means tells you what  to do–he tells his stories and shares his unconventional ideas.  But the mania makes me even more impulsive (and I can’t shut the fuck up) and then I tend to

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spiral (especially w/ lack of sleep) into paranoia and embarrassment.  (my laptop is filthy) It’s like I’m two extremes–way up and hyperactive, and then I’m slow and depressed and IRRITABLE.  Oh my God.  I have many fights the family but they’re pretty used to me being all over the place–and I deal with being all over the place through humor 80% of the time.  I’m a sarcastic ass or a poet, one of the two.

No love life as of yet.  No sex.  A “slight” obsession with the idea of sex though.  My passions for many things have been exploding out of me this last year–which I take as a good sign that I’m getting better.  I really am.  What a long road it is–recovery.  And it all really comes down to a man who took a young toddler of a girl and violated her and beat her.  That’s why the mess I’m cleaning up, but I declare it as my mess.  A mess sometimes I’m too lazy or too afraid (or daydreaming) to clean up.  It’s a lot of work–recovering is harder than the fall, but it’s not worse.

I’m also on unfamiliar territory with this new-found sexuality.  I’ve finally been able to open up to what I want and what I like and, essentially, what I need.  But with this comes my belief that I deserve something…not good….something less than I am (which at times doesn’t feel like much, and then it feels like too much).  What a contradiction it is.  Doesn’t worry me.  I find it incredibly interesting.  I’m fascinated by the way the mind and soul work.  I am intrigued by my want for dirty sex–it’s liberating on the one hand, and then the emotional part of me is saying “red flags! red flags!” (cigarette break)

So I’m a walking contradiction.  And that’s okay with me–gives me many opportunities on both sides of the fence, reveling in the gray area as well.  (oh let’s go delete some emails) I’ve never been so lusty before, though.  Thirsty and hungry–not for just sex (that’s a small small part of what I’m talking about), but for realizing who the fuck I am.  But maybe I don’t need to know that answer.

Thanks for reading.

Amy Jo

–and thank you, Tom Nardone, for the inspiration to write!