On Adhd and adulthood.

On Adhd and adulthood.

I don’t remember huge portions of my childhood. I have stronger memories from kindergarten than I do from 1st grade and up because I started Ritalin in the first grade. Apparently, my teacher didn’t like how disruptive I was, so the school got together with my parents and suggested I get help. So, I was diagnosed with Adhd and put on Ritalin. From there, its pretty hazy for a while.

Back then, it wasn’t the catch all diagnosis it is today. It hadn’t really caught on yet that so many people were affected by this. Personally, my theory is cigarettes. It hadn’t really come to light how dangerous they were, and many parents were using nicotine during the pregnancies. Logically speaking, that would mean the children in the wombs would be exposed to nicotine while in development, which could cause issues with how well their brains process dopamine. This is just my guess.

Either way, I was one of the early adopters in our state for this new treatment, and it has affected my memory.

My parents are often surprised by this when they try to talk about this time in our lives. I try to remember but our stories don’t always match up and I’m often unsure of who is misremembering, them or me. In a strange way, this issue has helped me cope with some things because I’m not holding on to the same baggage others might. But it also causes issues in my relationships because I do remember other things. Vividly. Things that had my FULL attention at times. Video games, books, movies, information; that sort of thing. I’m good with trivia and facts. It’s fun, but useless for interpersonal skills.

I struggled all through school despite being a “smart kid.”

I was put into Special Ed classes in the 9th grade because WBHS didn’t understand the idea of some kids needing a little more help or consideration, so they dumped me in the only place they could. I made it about 4 weeks before they realized I was done with all my work by about 10 am every day. I would sit in that trailer on the outskirts of the campus, and play games on the computer. This kept me from forming strong bonds with my classmates, and eventually lead to me not graduating on time because I hadn’t taken Algebra 1 like I was supposed to. This fact wasn’t fully understood until I was in the 12th grade, and severely failing Algebra 2. I had to take summer school classes, which were a joke, and I got my diploma via the mail.

When I made the choice to stop Ritalin a few times, I instead switched to Marijuana, a drug that I have been dependent on, off and on, since I was 14 years old. I’ve stopped a few times, but I have always come back. My brain just craves some sort of chemical “assistance.” Especially now that I’m an adult struggling with real life consequences and not just the stuff kids have to worry about. I feel more lost and hopeless than ever.

My whole life has been affected by my Adhd. All facets, such as, interpersonal relationships, sexual dysfunction, routine keeping, work ethic, personal philosophies, and behavior. But I’ve always just considered these things to be a part of me. It’s just who I am, and I have to apologize for it often because people just don’t understand. They don’t get my wild enthusiasm, my weird aggressive energy, my moodiness, the way I think and process information, because its not the same as they way the do it. I can come off as very off-putting and intense, which pushes people away. When in reality, I’m extremely nice person who doesn’t understand why my actions scare people off until its too late.

I want nothing more than to make a change, but nothing seems to work.

I try and I try, but I constantly slip back into old habits or cyclical thoughts that are unhealthy and often destructive. I get these huge bursts of inspiration and energy, and do great for a short while, and then one thing sets me off and I’m back where I started. It’s so hard to create healthy habits because it requires something in my brain to work correctly that doesn’t. My reward centers.

The way my brain processes dopamine is apparently different than the typical person’s brain. It’s essentially a type of brain damage.

I’ve written books, completed physical and mental challenges, dealt with the stress (poorly) of owning a business, traveled to places people only dream about, and made lifelong friendships. Yet, I still feel like I can’t get a grip. I can’t make small changes, so the big ones are even harder. I feel stuck all the time because I’m still trying to get basic things under control that most people learn as children. This is also a huge motivating factor to why I don’t want children. I do not want them to have to deal with this. Sorry, mom.

I thought things would get better as I got older. That I’d be able to get a handle on it, but that’s not the case. My Adhd has stayed the same, but the stakes of life have risen. People are tangled up in my dysfunction now that they are depending on me for money and support. It works when you are doing well, and it doesn’t when you are spiraling. I’ve done this work for most of my life, and I still have issues. It’s the only thing I truly know, and I can’t get on top of it.

My business did very well thanks to my support group. Namely Jo. Without her, it probably would have crashed and burned the first year due to me having serious anxiety issues and basically shutting down for a few months. I had something happen that spiraled me into a severe anxiety attack. I was suicidal at the time, and struggling with terrifying intrusive thoughts. The ramifications of this still affect me with unhealthy coping mechanisms. I have essentially retreated into a nihilistic world view.

I use tools to help me succeed where I can. I send scheduled text messages to myself so I remember my appointments and obligations. I set up my calendar to remind me of important dates to people around me so they understand that I care about them, or that I’m thinking about them. I make an effort to reach out to the people I care about so they know that I value their friendship. I do these things because I won’t remember or do them otherwise. It’s not because I don’t care, I really do. I just don’t. And its frustrating. Especially in my romantic relationships.

Its just more work to be in a relationship and to show them that you care because it doesn’t show like in normal relationships. It always starts the same. Hyper intense. Absolute focus. They get me 100% of the time. Its fun and magical and we get along great. It’s the best relationship you’ve ever been in. It’s not healthy, but it feels good. Or least it does until the other extreme emotions kick in like jealousy or whatever. Then, things slow down. Other obligations or interests creep in and your time and focus get allocated to these things instead. To other people, it feels like I don’t care or that I’ve lost interest, even though in my heart, I still love the person immensely. It’s a very emotionally draining situation.

But I was very lucky to find Jo. She kind of forced me to slow down and take my time. It was a hard transition, because I felt personally slighted by her controlled distance, but it was for the best. I had never had anyone put up healthy boundaries before. And we’ve been together, through thick and thin, for a very long time. I am so thankful that she’s put up with all this for as long as she has. It wasn’t easy, and unfortunately, it won’t be easy in the future either.

Whether Adhd is really affecting my life, or if its just the diagnosis and me giving into the idea of being neurodivergent, my life is still affected. And as an adult, its more of a hinderance than ever. I love people and having friends, but something keeps pushing people away the closer I try to get. And I always take it so personally. It’s emotionally devastating at times, but of course I hide it because I’ve gotten good at dealing with it. It’s happened so many times now that it’s just a matter of time. A fact of life.

I am ambitious and entrepreneurial, but my ideas never go anywhere. I have new, interesting ideas everyday almost and I don’t have the energy or the grit to stick with them. And the self-esteem issues you get from feeling like a constant failure are so hard to overcome. Everyday is a struggle if you don’t just give up. And its so hard not to give up. I do all the time. And then the voice in my head, the masochist, says, “Keep trying. You’ll get it one day.”

But I haven’t. Not yet at least. Maybe one day.

Tooth Hurty

This is a silly little short story I wrote for a competition. My guidelines were Dental Hygenist, Ransom, and Spy. It turned out pretty good and I've proud of it considering i had such a short deadline to get it out. 

Tooth Hurty.

I knew the second I walked through the door that day was going to be different. After scraping and cleaning teeth for months, he was finally giving me a real assignment. Something I could seriously sink my teeth into.

“Kathy,” my boss said. “There’s a new dentist in town. Dr. H. West. He's taken a few of our patients. Can you go over there and see what his office looks like? See if he's offering anything we aren't. We've had a few too many cancelations.”

“You want me to go undercover? Spy for you?”

“Yeah. Sure. Just don't do anything weird, okay? I don't want him knowing who we are.

“Of course,” I said. “I'll get to the bottom of this. The truth always comes out.”

He had picked the right woman for the job. All the plaque cleaning had left me anxious for something real to do. The cold, hard streets of our small town were a breeding ground for ne'er do wells that needed to be scraped clea—

“Kathy. You're doing it again. I need you out there, not spacing out in my office. What part of ‘don't be weird’ didn't you understand?”

“Sorry.” What did he know of weird? He hadn’t see the things I had.

He stopped and glanced at me over his shoulder. “Oh, and don't take Tom. He's kind of a douche. I don't want him messing this up.”

“Of course. No Tom. Got it.”

Tom and I walked down the street towards Dr. West's office. The gutters were filled with the debris of a thousand disposable lives. A waste basket for the selfish indigents these hard-suburban streets had given birth to.

We had stopped by my apartment to get a long coat and hat. Tom asked if it was going to rain. I pulled out a bent cigarette I kept in the jacket for this sort of occasion.

“No, kid,” I said, lighting it up. “We gotta keep ourselves incognito. On the down low. In disguise.”

I pulled a hard drag on the stale cancer stick and coughed until I almost barfed. Life as a dental hygienist had made me soft. Maybe too soft. Could I pull off one more mission?

“What should I wear? You got a cool coat for me?”

“Nah kid. This is my only one. Let’s kick rocks.”

“I don't know what that means.”

Poor Tom. Pretty as a nice smile of straight white teeth, but as many mental molars as a new born baby.

“Stick with me, kid.”

As we got to the office, a little white dog trotted up towards us from around the corner. It was cute, and fluffy with an energetic bounce and playful bark. It was the kind surrogate baby that bored house wives toted around all day. Its tongue hung out its mouth like a hangman’s noose. She was bad news. I could see it in her happy little face. The kind of dame that was all legs, and just enough tail to make a person look twice.

“Cute dog,” Tom said. “Where's it's collar?”

“A dog that cute belongs to someone nearby. If she’s still here when we get done, we'll take her case.”

“Okay,” he said, with an audible huff.

Poor kid. He just didn't understand the cold heart a job like this required. The endless hours, and ever vigilance. It could grow callouses on the heart of the most innocent children. The dame would have to wait. That's what the job meant.

As we stepped into the office, a sugary sweet woman in her fifties greeted us with a smile. Those pearly whites were something to behold. But as nice as she was, there was something as rotten as a cavity in that place. I could smell the placid decay of moral judgement from the front office. They were up to something. I could taste it in the air. It tasted of mint.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.

Oh no. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I panicked. “Yes!”

“What’s the name?”

“Kathy J Bond.”

My heart sank. I had just given her my real name.

“I don't see you on my list. Are you sure you have an appointment.”

“Oh, I misheard you. I need to make one.”

Nice save.

“Ok, fill this out, and he'll be right with you.”

Their office was smaller than ours. The boss would be pleased by this. Though, there were plenty of people waiting for a cleaning. They sat there, like dull witted cattle, in an anesthetized life. Someone needed to save them.

“Ma'am,” she said. “Would you care to take seat? You're just sort of standing there.”

“Of course,” I said, smiling back. I couldn't let on that I knew something was afoul under the bleached veneer of their office front.

I popped out my small notepad, and scribbled down some things. Small office. Lots of patients. White teeth. Big smile. Handsome—

Everyone perked up with quiet anticipation as the office door opened up and Dr. West stepped in with a clip board.  Their excitement abated when he called someone else’s name.

“Mr. Brimley?” he asked.

I must admit, seeing him took my breath away. Six feet of man meat, chiseled and shaped to perfection like an artisan’s dental plate. He was tan, with dark hair, and moody eyes. He must have seen me staring because he looked right at me. My spine became as weak as a strand of dental floss. I looked away.

Good Morning, Mr. Brimley. Let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot,” Brimley said, removing his hat and jacket.

“When is it time to go to the dentist?”

Mr. Brimley looked confused. He was about to fall for the dumbest joke in dentistry, but I couldn’t save him. I was forced to watch the travesty unfold. “Today?”

Dr. West had a big, corny smiled on his face. The kind a kindergarten teacher wore every day. “Close. Tooth hurty!”

It took Mr. Brimley a moment, but it came to him. Like a patient waking up from being put under, he said, “Oh! I get it. Very clever.”

As they exited the room, two old hens began clucking.

“He tells that joke every time.”

“It's a good joke,” the other said.

I rolled my eyes, and got up.

“Lets scoot,” I said. Tom was confused until I motioned towards the door.

As we stepped outside the little dog greeted us again. Its beady brown eyes looked confused as he tilted his head at us. My heart melted just enough to feel a twinge of guilt as I walked off. This isn’t the world for such attachments.

We made it one block when I heard a bark. I turned around, and there she was. Standing there, glaring at us with her tongue out.

“Faster,” I said, hoping to leave her behind.

We stopped again at the next block and the dame was still behind us. I clinched my fists in a fit of rage.

“Go home! Its too dangerous with us. We're spies, and spies don’t have cute little dogs. Get!”

I stormed off, determined for her to go, but at the next block, she was still there. I dug the cut of her jib. It takes moxie to be so tenacious.

“Come on, kid. You're with us now.”

“I thought I was kid?”

“You just got promoted to galoot.”

“I don't like that.”

 “Why do you have a dog?” my boss asked as we stood by his car.

“I got some bad news for ya, boss,” I said. “The recon trip was successful. We're working with a hottie.”

“A hottie?”

“I think she means he's a hunk, sir.”

“Thank you, Tom,” he said, before turning towards me. “What's he doing here?”

“Some assignments are too big for one person.”

“Are you high?”

“What? No. I'm just having fun. Stop trying to ruin it.”

“Whatever. Just don’t act like this at work.”

“Fine, Dad.”

“Listen, you’re getting a little old for all this. Go find someone to spend time with who isn't Tom. No offense, Tom.”

“None taken, sir.”

“What’s wrong with the dog’s mouth?”

My boss knelt down on his creaky knees. He was showing his age more and more. The suburban life had grinded down his edges. It left him jaded and incurious. That's why he hired me for these sorts of jobs. The expert.

“It's tongue just seems to hang out of it,” I said.

“That's because she's toothless,” he said, spreading the dog’s jaws. “There's nothing to hold it back. You should really find this dogs home. You don't want to have to hand feed it. You coming over for dinner?”

“Maybe tomorrow. After a case this big, I might need a few days to recover.”

“Your mom's making stroganoff.”

I shook my head in disgust. He knew my weakness. “I'll be there, you sly bastard.”

“Love you too, Sweetheart.”

We made the long walk back to Dr. West's office. The halcyon sun was already hiding its face behind the trees, desperate in its escape from the long, bitter night.

“Maybe we should knock on some doors,” Tom said.

The kid was wizening up. Its was a good idea. One I would have thought of eventually. A good spy always has an idea up her sleeve.

The first house we knocked on was across the street from the dentist’s office. An old woman opened the door a crack. Just enough to poke her boney face through.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

“We were wondering if you know who this dog belongs to.”

I held the dame up to the woman’s face. The little tongue hung free, bombarding the woman with all of her white fluffy cuteness. The woman smiled, and opened the door enough to scratch the dog’s chin. The dame must have enjoyed that because she started pawing for more. In all the towns, in all the places, why'd she have to follow me?

“I've seen her around. I think she belongs to Dr. West. But I’ve only seen her on occasion. I think I have his number, he lives just a few blocks that way. I'll get you the address.”

She disappeared and returned with the information. I tipped my hat to her. You’d think I had stolen her cat the way she looked at me. She closed the door without a goodbye, turning us back to the road. Back to the coming night.

“Let's jet,” I said. "There's much to do.”

“Can we get a Dairy Queen after this?”

“Not until we get paid.”

“We're doing this for free.”

“Then there's your answer.”

We walked along in silence, deciding not to call. The streets were bathed in the moonlight, but the trees and shrubs cast eerie shadows about. There could have been a thug around any corner, ready to snatch a purse or wallet. But not on my watch.

We came up to a flier posted on a telephone that had the dames picture on it. Her name was Irene, and she was dearly missed. The number didn't match up with the one the old woman had given us. Maybe the dame wasn't Dr. West's, after all.

“I don't want to give her back,” I blurted out. “I mean, we don’t know who these people are. Maybe she ran away.”

“That doesn’t matter. You have to.”

“Hear me out. We call them up and tell them we want a reward. If they don't pay it, they obviously don't love her as much as we do."

“You mean like a ransom? You want to hold her for ransom?”

To be fair, I was a little shocked by his accusation. It wasn’t a ransom. It was a test of their love and devotion. The kid was too soft to understand Solomon’s choice. Too green to understand that some things weren’t so black and white.

“We’re doing this,” I said, hoping he would get it when the time came.

I called the number and recognized the voice as soon as he answered. It was Dr. Tooth Hurty himself.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, we got your dog.”

There was a quiet mumbling on the other end. A woman with a shrill voice was elated at the news.

“Great. When can we come get her?”

“Is there a reward?”

“What? No, just our eternal gratitude.”

I thought about pressing the issue, but the dame looked up at me with those big brown eyes, and I knew I couldn't do it.

“We'll drop her off at your house then.”

“Um, no, no.” He kind of chuckled a little. There was obvious nervousness in his voice.

“We’re a block away. I can basically see your house from here.”

“No! I’ll meet you somewhere. Okay?”

“I’m staring at your front door. I’m about to ring the doorbell.”

“Don’t! I'll give you whatever you want. Just tell me how much, as long as we can meet somewhere.”

It dawned on me then what was going on, and a wry smile crept across my face. He hadn't told his wife he had lost the dame.

“Give us 100— No, 200 hundred bucks, and we won't take her to your wife.”

We met in the Dairy Queen parking lot. It was full of young kids, doping up and smoking acid after school. They were the losers, the burn outs, the dregs that society turned a blind eye on. 

He pulled up in a fancy car. The kind my boss couldn't afford now that his business was in trouble. It made me angry watching him get out. He was just as handsome after work. The bastard.

“I recognize you,” he said. “You're the weirdo’s in my office earlier. Did you take her just to exploit me? How did you find out?”

He begrudgingly handed me two bills. I stuffed them in my pocket, before grabbing the dame from Tom. I hesitated for a moment, but handed her over. He was about to say something when we heard a loud voice. His face went white.

“Howard?”

A heavy-set woman with large arms dropped her bag of food and ice cream cone before she came storming up.

“That fucking dog again? I knew you were still cheating on me! Where is she? I'll kill her.”

The dame jumped from his arms and I picked her up. We all took off as Mrs. Dr. West, smacked him around. He yelled out for us to stop, but she got him good in the mouth. I saw one of his perfect teeth hit the ground. I had to wonder if he knew what time it was then.

As we walked down the street towards home, I turned to Tom and said, “It’s like I always say, the ‘tooth’ really does always come out.”

End.

In the beginning. . .

This is the first thing I've writen as The Cult Of Joshua. I was having my doubts about all of this a few weeks ago, and then something clicked. It was my "shit or get off the pot" moment, and I decided to take a big ole shit. The Cult of Joshua is that smelly turd. It is our turd, and I promise to do my best not to take any of this too seriously. 

My plan is to write about, or post, anything I feel like. Sometimes, that might be a thought provoking piece on how the moral zeitgeist is changing. Other times, it could be a bad dick joke. This site is not intended for children, and if you catch your kids on here, they should probaby seek immediate medical attention. An ECT treatment might help them forget such a tramatic event, but probably not. 

They say you can't polish a turd, so why try? This is my site, and I will have fun with it.