Welcome to ADHD Awareness week! All this week our bloggers will be sharing their personal stories of ADHD and what we want others to know about the disorder. Please feel free to share these posts with your friends and/or family members who still don’t quite believe.
If you’re anything like me, you sorta lose your mind when people throw out claims like “ADHD doesn’t exist” or “If you’d just [insert disciplinary technique here].”
Besides the obvious response (Mind your business!), there’s not much I can ever think of to counter those “armchair experts’” opinions. And so I couldn’t resist the opportunity to kick off ADHD Awarness week with this little anecdote to help illustrate the neurological differences between a typical kid and one who has ADHD.
Normally, my son takes medication each morning to help him regulate his brain function throughout the day. My darling husband is tasked with the responsibility of dispensing this medication before breakfast on school days. And he performs this task without issues. Usually.
There are days that the hubs forgets to dole out the (prescribed after numerous trial-and-error efforts to find a different solution) 40 mgs of Vyvanse. How do we know? Because we’ll get a prompt phone call from Javi’s teacher saying things like:
He tried to climb the cafeteria wall! (Spider-Man is one of his favorite superheroes.)
He was kicking other children’s feet in the bathroom! (Stretching his calf muscles?)
He stood up and danced a jig next to his desk! (Well, I guess he dances to the beat of his own [silent] drum.)
He cried and ran out of the room when I told him his answer was wrong! (Been there, done that, lady!)
He just keeps staring into space. I can’t get him to do anything. (Sigh. I’m sure he’s engrossed in some fantastic daydream.)
The good news: When properly medicated, he’s fantastic. His teacher dotes on him and considers him a star student. She fought for him to be placed in the AG program despite his test scores being on the cusp.
Despite the phone calls, I am more than ecstatic about our progress. We are effectively managing his disorder and allowing him to have a childhood (and eventual adulthood) that will be productive and rewarding.
But the difference between medicated Javi and unmedicated Javi is all the evidence anyone should need to prove that this disorder both exists and requires more than a good beating (whether that’s prescription meds, naturopathic remedies, or something else).
To illustrate the stark difference (and to punish him for forgetting to give Javi his meds), I made the hubs do this:
Enough said.
Come back tomorrow for more posts guaranteed to help you dispel those rampant ADHD myths!
Kelly Quinones Miller is the mother of an adopted son with ADHD, inattentive type. She works from home as a freelance writer and designer while trying to teach her son the strategies and skills he’ll need to succeed. Kelly blogs about family issues, casual environmentalism, backyard chickens, and more at The Miller Mix.
