Losing My Mind (And Finding It Again), Part 2

*continued from part 1*

Attention-deficit disorder? No, I’d never really considered that possibility for myself. Sure, I’ve jokingly claimed that I have ADD at conferences from so much going on, but actually having ADD? That condition had never crossed my mind.

My older daughter has autism, and there have been plenty of times when I’ve thought that maybe her autism came from me. I certainly have several of the traits, but don’t quite fit the overall profile for it. However, ADD is a diagnosis for hyper kids, right? Like, someone who bounces off walls and can’t sit still and is too loud and too talkative? I have never, ever, ever been what someone might call hyperactive. The couch and I have always been good friends.

I gave my doctor a puzzled look. “ADD? But I don’t have any energy at all.”

She explained the difference between the hyperactive type of ADD and the inattentive type of ADD. It made sense, but hearing that I might have ADD – something I thought was primarily limited to kids – frightened me.

I told my doctor I was honestly unsure if that was the problem. She suggested a one month trial of medication to find out.

Having taken antidepressants before, I was unsure if a month would be enough time. Antidepressants usually take 4-8 weeks to begin working, so wouldn’t ADD medications work the same way?

“How long will it take to know?” I asked.

“I think you’ll have a good idea after one pill,” she responded.

One pill? Really? What the hell was in this stuff?

I left my doctor’s office with my prescription, went to the pharmacy, and took my little bottle of pills home. I still remember it was a beautiful, sunny afternoon in October – not too warm, not too cold. Aaron wasn’t home, the girls were in school. It was just me and that little bottle.

Sitting on the couch, I took one pill out of the bottle and studied it in my hand. How could I know if this was the right diagnosis with just one small, round pill? Had my doctor lost her mind, too?

And then I wondered what would happen if it worked. Would I be chained for life to a pill? Would it change who I am? Would people treat me differently if they knew I had ADD?

I took a sip of water and swallowed the pill.

And then I waited.

My doctor said it would take 30 minutes or so for the medication to take effect. I counted the minutes on the clock as I sat in my quiet living room, mind racing with anxiety over what I had just done. All of my worried thoughts slammed into each other in a chaotic jumble that left me desperate to get out of my own head.

Unable to stand it anymore, I went upstairs and did some laundry to distract myself from my internal drama. After sorting clothing and starting the washer, I went back downstairs and resumed my wait on the couch.

I looked at the clock and realized it had been over 30 minutes. I didn’t really feel any different. Huh, I thought, maybe I don’t have ADD? I decided to stretch out on the couch and take a nap, disgusted that I got myself so worked up over nothing.

And that’s when I noticed it.

Silence.

No eight televisions all blaring thought fragments in my head. No songs competing for my attention. Just…quiet, along with intense focus and awareness.

My current thought about wondering if the med didn’t work was bouncing around in my head without any interference. It was crystal clear, like someone had taken a squeegee to my brain and removed all of the grime fogging it up.

I smiled. It felt great. I called Aaron and told him everything that had happened.

And I did take that nap, falling asleep more easily than normal.

Before I drifted to sleep, I remember saying out loud, with no one else to hear, “Apparently I do have ADD.”

—-
*Must break here. I didn’t intend for this to be so long, but it’s harder to write than I thought! The final part on Monday, and I swear it’ll be the final part.*

(Edited to add: Part 3 is now available.)



Losing My Mind (And Finding It Again), Part 1

Different ways I considered to start this post:

“I’ve been called scatterbrained. Funny thing is, they were right.”

“Do I owe you an e-mail or a call? Sorry, that happens a lot with me.”

“I’m on a drug, it’s called Charlie Sheen…”

—-

There’s no easy way to start talking about losing your mind. I’ve already deleted and started over several times, scared what people will think of me for sharing this. But it’s felt like a big dark secret holding me back, and it’s possible others are going through the same struggle, so I’m going to tell my story.

*deep breath & imagining all of you in your underwear to reduce my anxiety*

—-

I love to sleep. When I sleep, everything is quiet. Getting to sleep, however, is always more of a struggle. Because even if the room is completely quiet, it sounds like a busy New York street in my head.

When I was younger, thoughts in my head were rapid and clear. I was bored in school because I picked up the subject quickly and was ready to move on long before everyone else. When working on a project, my mind was always focused one or two steps ahead of what I was doing.

High school and college were periods of time when I both loved and hated my brain. I was proud of being smart, of being able to pull answers to obscure questions from my grey matter in split seconds. It also didn’t make me popular – when a question was asked in class, it was nearly impossible for me to not raise my hand, as my brain was screaming at me I KNOW THE ANSWER! SAY IT! SAY IT! SAY IT!

But I also started to notice that it never stopped. My thoughts raced from dawn to well into the night, and if I went to sleep exhausted, it was mental exhaustion, not physical. I hated working on long projects or reading long books, because I was distracted long before it was finished. I was also a champion procrastinator, preferring the rush of cramming it all in at the last minute. I never thought it was a problem, just a side effect of having a good brain. I had youth on my side and used that youthful energy to battle the negative aspects and keep my brain in line.

As I’ve grown older, the speed at which I think is still the same, but I’ve slowly grown more and more unable to deal with it. After all, it never stops. Never.

The best way to describe it is to imagine being in a room with 8 televisions and 2 radios on. They’re all loud, and all feature things you are thinking about. The songs compete for your attention, and as soon as you’re interested in something on one television, another one becomes even louder and drowns it out.

I hate having a brilliant thought for a post in my head, and just as I start to ponder how to develop it, another thought cuts in and suddenly I can’t remember the first one at all. Gone, just like that. Sure, it happens to all of us at some point, but I’m grasping at stray thoughts all day long, trying desperately to give my attention to the thoughts that are important, thoughts I can’t risk forgetting.

My memory is actually pretty good, when it makes enough of an impression for me to remember. If I’m eating lunch while distracted, though? I wouldn’t even be able to recall what I ate later that day. And at night, my thoughts keep going even when I want to stop. Moments of the day replay, random thoughts make quick drive-by passes just to perk my mind and keep it alert, and of course a song is always stuck in my head.

What I hate the most, though, is letting people down. Forgetting to send an e-mail to someone to check on them. Being unable to have a long talk with a friend who is hurting – looking them in the eyes while fighting internally to keep my thoughts on what they’re saying when my mind tries desperately to wander. (And I DO care! I want to listen! My mind is just bringing up random thoughts and there’s a bird in the tree behind you that is really pretty.)

Throughout my twenties, I visited my doctor several times for symptoms that I thought were depression: I was tired all the time, I had trouble falling asleep, I had no attention towards my work, I felt fuzzy-headed and down. Each time I was treated for depression, despite everything going well in my life at the time. The meds helped me cope, but did little to help stop my racing mind.

After becoming a mom, my coping abilities failed as my responsibilities increased. If I only had to take care of myself, I could get by, but adding kids to the mix quadrupled the number of things I had to keep track of and guaranteed that something was always forgotten. And, to add to the cacophony inside my head, I now had bone-chilling anxiety screaming what if? at me as well.

A year and a half ago, I went back to my doctor. I was exhausted, I was fuzzy-headed, and I felt like I was losing my mind. I nearly broke down in tears as I told my doctor about locking our door at night, telling myself that I locked it, going upstairs to bed, and then being completely unable to remember if I’d locked the door or not, requiring me to go check again. I explained how my mind was a jumble, and it was getting harder and harder to think through an entire thought without losing it somewhere along the way.

I was convinced I had Alzheimer’s or early onset dementia, and I was scared. My thoughts were clear and speedy when I was younger, why were they failing me now? Was this the beginning of a slow slide into forgetting everything?

That office visit went far longer than I expected. My doctor looked back through my history, and we discussed practically everything I’ve written here and so much more. Blood tests were run to check practically everything that could be checked, and they were all amazingly normal.

And then my doctor asked, “Have you ever thought you could have attention-deficit disorder?”

Really?

Part two coming very soon, I promise. 

(Edited to add: Part 2 is now available.)



Stuck Between Hip and Hip-Fracture

One of the joys of losing weight is going shopping for new clothing when everything starts getting baggy. (What? Were you unaware I was losing weight? You must not be reading my weight loss blog then!)

Such was my joy this weekend when I went out to Kohl’s for a little “me” time in the evening. I had gift cards from Christmas, I had a coupon, and I was ready to spruce up my wardrobe.

I walked in the door and was immediately distracted by the cute dresses on my right. The pull of ruffles and stripes and soft fabric drew me to the racks as I quickly found myself immersed in spring fashions. Another woman, younger than me, was also browsing in this section.

One top caught my eye, so I started digging through the rack, looking for my size. The other woman was practically right next to me looking at shrug sweaters. Not finding a large, I muttered out loud to myself (because I talk to myself all the time), “Darn, I wish they had this in my size. I doubt a medium would fit.”

The other woman – who really couldn’t have been more than 22 or 23 years old – looked me up and down for a split second, and then replied, “You’d probably find more for you over there,” and nodded across the aisle with a sigh and a withering look on her face.

(Were she 50 years old and southern, she’d probably have added a “well, bless your heart,” to the beginning of that statement. Instead, I got the teen “geez, mom, you’re so out of touch!” tone of voice.)

“Oh, thanks,” I replied, not realizing what she meant. A moment later, it came to me: I was in the Juniors’ section of Kohl’s. The area she was nodding to was the Womens’ part of the store. You know, the area for females who are of a certain age and should be dressing a certain way.

And for just a moment, I was truly embarrassed. I shuffled away from the soft ruffles and left the Juniors’ section to those without wrinkles, hoping no one would point or stare at the old lady thinking she was young again.

I mean, I’m four months away from 35 years old, where I’ll officially be in my “mid-thirties” and can no longer pull off the “early-thirties” label. I don’t plan on wearing an ultra-mini skirt anytime soon, but I didn’t realize that the entire Juniors’ section was off-limits for me.

But I like some of the clothing there. Sure, I won’t be wearing anything that bares my midriff anytime soon, and Juniors’ jeans are simply never going to fit my legs. The tops and dresses, though, are a mixed bag – some are really cute, and while most aren’t work appropriate, I could see wearing them on a casual Saturday afternoon, out with friends, or even to a blog conference. No inappropriate baring of skin, no squeezed into something like a sausage – just trendy ruffles and floral prints and clothing cut in a way that makes me feel happy. 

To be fair, I like some of the clothing in the Womens’ section, too. This is not a rant against matronly clothing for those of us who can’t like Justin Bieber without it feeling kinda creepy. I buy most of my clothing from that area of the store, to be honest. I just don’t see why I should feel guilty shopping in the Juniors’ section as well.

So tell me: is a thirty-something mom of two considered too old for clothing from a Juniors’ section, or does Miss Teen Fashion Police need to zip it and let women shop where they want?



Weigh-In

I stepped on the scale on Saturday morning, and was greeted with a number I haven’t seen in a long time: 175.

The last time I was 175 pounds, I was a newlywed. I looked like this:

(Honeymoon at Disney, 2003)

Although now my body doesn’t look the same at 175 pounds as it did then. (New photo coming soon, I promise!) Stretch marks, loose skin, more fat – not exactly the body I thought I’d be seeing at this weight.

Some of that may be in my mind, too. Because when I went shopping this weekend, I was thrilled to slip on a pair of size 10 Lee jeans. I haven’t worn size 10, since…well…since I was 175 pounds. So even though I feel like my body is bigger than it was before at this weight, apparently the clothing still fits.

Since starting my bootcamp classes four weeks ago, I’m down six pounds. I often feel like it’s not going fast enough, but I know these things take time. I’m within 20 pounds of my goal weight now, so naturally it’s going to get harder to lose each pound. But I’ve already stripped away almost 8 years of weight, so I know I’m on the right track and need to fight off feelings of discouragement.



Fitness and Nutrition Are Not Partisan Issues

This is my 1,000th post on this blog. Wow.

I don’t generally like talking about politics on my blog. I’m pretty well-rooted in my beliefs and I usually don’t have the time or energy to debate someone else’s beliefs.

But lately I’ve been disgusted with some of the rhetoric being thrown around about the First Lady, Michelle Obama, and her Let’s Move initiative. Some conservatives are calling it “nanny state” politics, with the government trying to dictate what we eat and how much exercise we get. Sarah Palin accused her of trying to take away all of our desserts. And just recently Rush Limbaugh (who is in no position to criticize on this issue) made cracks about Mrs. Obama eating ribs and not being slim enough to advocate for an anti-obesity campaign.

Are you kidding me? Anyone who thinks Michelle Obama is fat seriously needs new glasses.

The problem is that this is one big smoke screen – a chance to throw around hate speech and turn minds against the current administration over a topic that is 100% not partisan.

The Let’s Move initiative was designed to encourage healthier habits in our families and children to fight childhood obesity and give our kids a shot at living longer than we do. These initiatives focus on both nutrition and fitness, with goals of making healthier food available for school lunches and encouraging more physical activity for kids. And it’s all about information sharing and greater food variety, not mandatory diets and exercise. No one is outlawing cheesecake or chaining you to a treadmill.

How is this political? Does someone out there truly believe that kids today are perfectly fit and we need less healthy food and less physical activity in our schools?

There are 9 year old kids developing Type 2 diabetes now, which used to be called “adult-onset” diabetes. Kids who are morbidly obese and need cholesterol drugs to prevent a heart attack. Kids who have no idea how to ride a bike, but can master Grand Turismo on their XBox. It’s sad.

Some may argue that the problem stems from poor parenting and poor choices. You don’t have to buy the chips and soda – you can choose to cook more instead. But healthier foods can cost more, especially in inner city areas that may not have access to fresh fruits and veggies. And cooking takes time – families where parents work 2 or 3 jobs don’t always have time to cook a healthy meal from scratch.

OK, fine, let’s assume lazy parenting is a valid excuse. I’d then argue that the excuses of poor parenting and poor choices are exactly why programs like Let’s Move are needed. Without the proper education and training, parents can’t be expected to make the best choices for their families. A mom who grew up never learning how to cook will have a hard time trying to cook for her kids. (Ahem…me.) Kids who aren’t introduced to healthy foods early on will likely be unwilling to try them when they’re older. (Not quite me…I grew out of my Doritos and Fla-vor-ice phase, thankfully.) Physics also reminds us that an object at rest tends to stay at rest, and the body is no exception.

You can throw around terms like “personal responsibility” all you want, but if those individuals are never given the tools and training they need, they’ll never succeed.

It would be like asking me to change the oil on my car: I drive the car, so you could argue that it’s my responsibility to keep it maintained. But I’ve never been taught how to do it – oh sure, I’ve seen it done a few times – if I tried I’d likely make a big mess of it. Now if someone taught me how to do it, I could do it every 5,000 miles like recommended.

Encouraging healthier school lunches, teaching families about nutrition, incorporating fitness into every school day – these are not partisan issues. These are common sense solutions to a national health epidemic. You want to save money on health care? Start by encouraging those around you to be healthier. Get our kids healthy, and those habits will be passed on to their kids and hopefully future generations.

And finally, for those who still feel that this is a liberal intrusion into your personal lives, I’d like to remind you of President Ronald Reagan, thought by many to be the saint of the conservatives, and his executive order on December 31, 1982. You see, Reagan was totally into initiatives like this. When he became president, there was already a President’s Council on Physical Fitness and Sports. But he wasn’t content to simply let it remain as it was.

On the last day of the year in 1982, Reagan signed an executive order broadening the reach of the council and initiating “programs to inform the general public of the importance of exercise and the link between regular physical activity, good health, and effective performance.” Sound familiar?

This included developing more fitness programs in schools and community centers, coordinating federal programs to encourage fitness, coordinating with health organizations to develop fitness guidelines and encourage further research into sports medicine, and even working with private businesses and labor organizations to encourage fitness initiatives in the workplace. The First Lady, Nancy Reagan, chaired the first National Women’s Leadership Conference on Fitness. (Hey, look, it’s a First Lady championing a health and fitness initiative!)

(There’s a lot more on the history of this council – it’s good reading.)

In other words – there’s a precedent for ALL of this. It’s been done, by both political parties, and therefore Michelle Obama’s Let’s Move campaign is nothing more than a fresh slogan and a few new ideas to tackle a subject the government has cared about since Eisenhower. It’s not a liberal or conservative battle, but something we should all be invested in.

Even if you exercise and cook nutritious meals from scratch each day, you need to be invested in this issue, because the health of those around you will have an impact on you, whether it be through increased health care costs or a lack of workers due to high disability rates.

Don’t listen to the hype and the hate spewed out by some about Let’s Move. No one is taking away your dessert, I promise. The point of it is to make better choices – as someone who’s lost weight, I can vouch that it’s really about making better choices 90% of the time, and enjoying the splurge 10% of the time. Again, none of this is mandatory – placing a salad bar in your child’s school is not forcing your child to eat vegetables, it’s about providing choice and education.

And if it is somehow forcing your child to eat vegetables, I’d like to apply for a grant to get one in my kitchen.

And one final note for all my 30-something friends: remember those damn President’s Physical Fitness Challenges in school? (They were required for us.) Yeah, I was always a failure at those. I was clearly the target audience for these programs.