on.the.edge
01-21-09, 08:05 PM
Hello everyone,
I am new here. I have had ADD-inattentive symptoms for a long time and have suspected that it was what I had. I was seeing a psychiatrist for depression and social anxiety, and he told me in October that he "thinks" I may have ADD, which was odd because I had never mentioned that to him. And the more time that passes the more I believe that this is what my problem has been. I called my dad and told him, and he said it doesn’t surprise him a bit. His brother had ADHD, my sister has ADD and Aspergers, and I have a cousin with ADHD, and another with mild autism. My husband, on the other hand, tells me that there’s nothing wrong with me, and that the idea that I might have ADD is “b***s***”. But then he and his family are pretty tough—I’ve had to develop slightly thicker skin since I joined the family.
<O:p</O:p
I have never felt "right", not since I was a little girl. It really started getting bad when I was in the 4th grade. Before that, I did very well in school. But that was because the work was way too easy for me. In Kindergarten, they thought I was a genius. LOL. I was very quiet but got along okay with the other kids. I grew up in a very small town, with only an elementary school - high schoolers had to be bussed to the next town. Anyway, there was only one teacher per grade at the elementary school, and the one that taught 4th grade was an old grouch and snappy--she made kids cry. My mom noticed that something was wrong and decided to move me to the elementary school in the next town, and that was where I finished the 4th grade (after that I was moved back to the original school where my “running away” set the stage for years of teasing). I didn't handle being the new girl well at all. First of all I have an unusual first name, and my maiden name started with “Dick…”, so when the teacher put my name on the board, the first thing I heard from the other kids was comments on what a weird name I had. That was when the first stages of depression set in. I was extremely shy and didn't do well in social situations. I came very close to flunking out of the 4th grade. I didn't do my work, I spent all my time thinking about what the other kids thought of me, and fantasizing about being one of those popular kids who gets along with everyone. I was a year ahead in reading, but I had trouble remembering what I’d read. You know when they’d have you read a story and then answer questions at the end? I always had to go back and reread it. And when we had to openly answer questions with the rest of the class, it was a nightmare. I had to be pushed to contribute to the conversation at all.
That continued through my sophomore year of high school. Imagine being 15 or 16 and still so shy. I felt like I had a lot to say; I was just afraid to say it, for fear of it coming out wrong, or of just being wrong. I’m sure the other kids thought there was something major wrong with me. By my senior year I’d opened up a little, but I went to the same school from Kindergarten through the end of high school, so my reputation was set. I got through and graduated somehow with a 2.8 GPA. Every one told me I was smarter than what my grades showed, that I wasn’t living up to my potential. I couldn’t figure it out. Why were other people able to get it together and pay attention in class and study, and I wasn’t? Instead of doing it, I’d be off in my own world thinking about why I had so much trouble doing it. I was officially diagnosed with depression when I was 17, but I didn’t start taking medication until I was 24. I don’t know if it would have worked because I kept forgetting to take my pills, so it was very sporadic. Right now I’m on Wellbutrin, and I’m better at remembering them but it doesn’t seem to be working.
As far as work, I’ve done mostly office work, which I’m okay at, but I’ve changed jobs too frequently to have what employers would call a “solid work history”. I’d become bored—with either the job or where I lived—and would quit. Either that, or I’d get asked to take on additional responsibility and I’d get worried I wouldn’t be able to handle it, and I’d move on to another job. So I’d end up in a perpetual cycle of entry-level jobs. It’s like I have to leave before they realize that something is not right with me. 2 ½ years ago, I decided to go back to school to become a veterinary technician—my childhood dream was to be a veterinarian, but I didn’t apply myself in my 2 attempts at community college. So I got an associate’s degree in veterinary technology. I did great in school, but once I was actually on the job, I couldn’t keep up. At my 2<SUP>nd</SUP> (and last) position in the field, my boss told me that she didn’t know what to make of me. She said that I had days where I was “right on” and others where I was way off. I made careless mistakes; I wasn’t attentive enough. And then she fired me.
I went back to office work in January of 2008 through a temp agency—I don’t do well at interviews, so working as a temp makes my life easier. When I was laid off on December 31, my co-workers all said that they didn’t want me to go, and that they would miss me. I still find that hard to believe because I was super quiet, and except for one co-worker, rarely interacted unless it was work related. The whole time I worked there, I was certain they thought I was a snob.
The last few years have been hard for me. I feel like everything that’s happened in my life, that I have refused to face, is now crashing down on me. My finances are finally getting under control, thanks to my husband who takes care of paying the bills. If he wasn’t here, I don’t think I’d have ever gotten things under control enough to have a house, or a nice car. The social situation is a different story. If I’m in a small group of people I don’t know, or rarely see, then I do well, but friends, in-laws, and co-workers are tough, because you see them all the time, and if I say too much, then they’ll eventually see the real me. The one who pretends to listen, but doesn’t, who interrupts, says things that make no sense and who has a general tendency to avoid obligations. The one that has the messy, dirty house and can never quite get it together. My in-laws come into town pretty often, and I love them dearly, but I dread going out to dinner and the conversation that goes with it. They and my husband love to talk politics, and I feel like I should be knowledgeable about this stuff, and I’m just not. So I act like I’m taking it all in, and don’t say much. I feel stupid, and like my social life is irreversibly damaged.
And the worst part is that I want to take it all in, I want to hear what other people have to say and to participate socially, I want to connect with people. I want to have friends over for a barbecue where we can share life and conversation with each other. But no matter how hard I try, it doesn’t work. In fact it seems like the harder I do try, the worse it becomes. I have a thousand thoughts in my head all the time; I’m thinking about things from my past, things that need to be done, how I need to find a job, how I need to start exercising and eating healthier, how dusty the house is and how much I wish I could get up the motivation to take care of it.
<O:p</O:pAnd the number one thing on my mind is something that I’m not even sure we should be doing—having a baby. I’m 32 and my husband is 44. He’s worried about his age, and I’m not exactly a kid myself. We’ve been trying for over a year now—we’ve been officially diagnosed with unexplained infertility. And I spend half my time upset that we haven’t be able to conceive, and the other half telling myself I shouldn’t be having a baby anyway. When I’m really down, I start thinking it would be selfish to bring a kid into the world who could inherit this from me. My husband’s side of the family is healthy as horses, physically and mentally, so it’s a 50/50 shot. Besides that, am I really fit to care for a tiny infant anyway? I’m not so sure.
Anyway, sorry this has gotten so long—I just couldn’t stop. I know that I need to go to the doctor and get an official diagnosis; I’m just dreading bringing it up to my husband again because of the way he blew it off last time. And I probably can’t take medication for it anyway, since we’re trying to get pregnant. I feel like my life is on a downward spiral and I can’t do anything to stop it. I’ve actually had dreams where I’ve left my husband, telling him that he should find someone sane and not barren. I don’t know how he takes all of it—the mood swings, the forgetfulness, and everything else. If he got sick of it and left, I wouldn’t blame him. I feel like he deserves better. I don’t know what to do. Where to I go from here?
I am new here. I have had ADD-inattentive symptoms for a long time and have suspected that it was what I had. I was seeing a psychiatrist for depression and social anxiety, and he told me in October that he "thinks" I may have ADD, which was odd because I had never mentioned that to him. And the more time that passes the more I believe that this is what my problem has been. I called my dad and told him, and he said it doesn’t surprise him a bit. His brother had ADHD, my sister has ADD and Aspergers, and I have a cousin with ADHD, and another with mild autism. My husband, on the other hand, tells me that there’s nothing wrong with me, and that the idea that I might have ADD is “b***s***”. But then he and his family are pretty tough—I’ve had to develop slightly thicker skin since I joined the family.
<O:p</O:p
I have never felt "right", not since I was a little girl. It really started getting bad when I was in the 4th grade. Before that, I did very well in school. But that was because the work was way too easy for me. In Kindergarten, they thought I was a genius. LOL. I was very quiet but got along okay with the other kids. I grew up in a very small town, with only an elementary school - high schoolers had to be bussed to the next town. Anyway, there was only one teacher per grade at the elementary school, and the one that taught 4th grade was an old grouch and snappy--she made kids cry. My mom noticed that something was wrong and decided to move me to the elementary school in the next town, and that was where I finished the 4th grade (after that I was moved back to the original school where my “running away” set the stage for years of teasing). I didn't handle being the new girl well at all. First of all I have an unusual first name, and my maiden name started with “Dick…”, so when the teacher put my name on the board, the first thing I heard from the other kids was comments on what a weird name I had. That was when the first stages of depression set in. I was extremely shy and didn't do well in social situations. I came very close to flunking out of the 4th grade. I didn't do my work, I spent all my time thinking about what the other kids thought of me, and fantasizing about being one of those popular kids who gets along with everyone. I was a year ahead in reading, but I had trouble remembering what I’d read. You know when they’d have you read a story and then answer questions at the end? I always had to go back and reread it. And when we had to openly answer questions with the rest of the class, it was a nightmare. I had to be pushed to contribute to the conversation at all.
That continued through my sophomore year of high school. Imagine being 15 or 16 and still so shy. I felt like I had a lot to say; I was just afraid to say it, for fear of it coming out wrong, or of just being wrong. I’m sure the other kids thought there was something major wrong with me. By my senior year I’d opened up a little, but I went to the same school from Kindergarten through the end of high school, so my reputation was set. I got through and graduated somehow with a 2.8 GPA. Every one told me I was smarter than what my grades showed, that I wasn’t living up to my potential. I couldn’t figure it out. Why were other people able to get it together and pay attention in class and study, and I wasn’t? Instead of doing it, I’d be off in my own world thinking about why I had so much trouble doing it. I was officially diagnosed with depression when I was 17, but I didn’t start taking medication until I was 24. I don’t know if it would have worked because I kept forgetting to take my pills, so it was very sporadic. Right now I’m on Wellbutrin, and I’m better at remembering them but it doesn’t seem to be working.
As far as work, I’ve done mostly office work, which I’m okay at, but I’ve changed jobs too frequently to have what employers would call a “solid work history”. I’d become bored—with either the job or where I lived—and would quit. Either that, or I’d get asked to take on additional responsibility and I’d get worried I wouldn’t be able to handle it, and I’d move on to another job. So I’d end up in a perpetual cycle of entry-level jobs. It’s like I have to leave before they realize that something is not right with me. 2 ½ years ago, I decided to go back to school to become a veterinary technician—my childhood dream was to be a veterinarian, but I didn’t apply myself in my 2 attempts at community college. So I got an associate’s degree in veterinary technology. I did great in school, but once I was actually on the job, I couldn’t keep up. At my 2<SUP>nd</SUP> (and last) position in the field, my boss told me that she didn’t know what to make of me. She said that I had days where I was “right on” and others where I was way off. I made careless mistakes; I wasn’t attentive enough. And then she fired me.
I went back to office work in January of 2008 through a temp agency—I don’t do well at interviews, so working as a temp makes my life easier. When I was laid off on December 31, my co-workers all said that they didn’t want me to go, and that they would miss me. I still find that hard to believe because I was super quiet, and except for one co-worker, rarely interacted unless it was work related. The whole time I worked there, I was certain they thought I was a snob.
The last few years have been hard for me. I feel like everything that’s happened in my life, that I have refused to face, is now crashing down on me. My finances are finally getting under control, thanks to my husband who takes care of paying the bills. If he wasn’t here, I don’t think I’d have ever gotten things under control enough to have a house, or a nice car. The social situation is a different story. If I’m in a small group of people I don’t know, or rarely see, then I do well, but friends, in-laws, and co-workers are tough, because you see them all the time, and if I say too much, then they’ll eventually see the real me. The one who pretends to listen, but doesn’t, who interrupts, says things that make no sense and who has a general tendency to avoid obligations. The one that has the messy, dirty house and can never quite get it together. My in-laws come into town pretty often, and I love them dearly, but I dread going out to dinner and the conversation that goes with it. They and my husband love to talk politics, and I feel like I should be knowledgeable about this stuff, and I’m just not. So I act like I’m taking it all in, and don’t say much. I feel stupid, and like my social life is irreversibly damaged.
And the worst part is that I want to take it all in, I want to hear what other people have to say and to participate socially, I want to connect with people. I want to have friends over for a barbecue where we can share life and conversation with each other. But no matter how hard I try, it doesn’t work. In fact it seems like the harder I do try, the worse it becomes. I have a thousand thoughts in my head all the time; I’m thinking about things from my past, things that need to be done, how I need to find a job, how I need to start exercising and eating healthier, how dusty the house is and how much I wish I could get up the motivation to take care of it.
<O:p</O:pAnd the number one thing on my mind is something that I’m not even sure we should be doing—having a baby. I’m 32 and my husband is 44. He’s worried about his age, and I’m not exactly a kid myself. We’ve been trying for over a year now—we’ve been officially diagnosed with unexplained infertility. And I spend half my time upset that we haven’t be able to conceive, and the other half telling myself I shouldn’t be having a baby anyway. When I’m really down, I start thinking it would be selfish to bring a kid into the world who could inherit this from me. My husband’s side of the family is healthy as horses, physically and mentally, so it’s a 50/50 shot. Besides that, am I really fit to care for a tiny infant anyway? I’m not so sure.
Anyway, sorry this has gotten so long—I just couldn’t stop. I know that I need to go to the doctor and get an official diagnosis; I’m just dreading bringing it up to my husband again because of the way he blew it off last time. And I probably can’t take medication for it anyway, since we’re trying to get pregnant. I feel like my life is on a downward spiral and I can’t do anything to stop it. I’ve actually had dreams where I’ve left my husband, telling him that he should find someone sane and not barren. I don’t know how he takes all of it—the mood swings, the forgetfulness, and everything else. If he got sick of it and left, I wouldn’t blame him. I feel like he deserves better. I don’t know what to do. Where to I go from here?