adhd - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
I am a firework forever stuck in that split second after explosion, both hurtling through space and static, on fire and frozen. I am the energy that seeks a thousand paths because the way forward is denied. I am the silent scream that's deafening, but you can hear it with your eyes if you dare look.
I carry a lot of medicine with me. I have an epipen because I turn into a splotchy red balloon when I get stung by a bee. I have an inhaler because I breath worse than a bulldog on a treadmill. I have lactaid because I’m attracted to cheesecake like a moth is to a flame. The attraction is strong and equally as dangerous. Most of these are recent but every school say since the second grade I’ve carried medication in my system to alter my behavior, to make me less antsy, less attention deficit. The endless bounce in my feet and the rapid river of words tumbling from lips proved to be too much for those around me. The first pill my parents choose for me took my appetite until, at 27 pounds too light they decided it just wasn’t the right one. After that I was given one that took my self control until I was so impulsive I would hide and run away for fun. After 3 years they finally decided, it just wasn't the right one. I've been on the same medication for nearly 7 years now and have been attempting to get by with it less and less because, despite focus coming more easily, I can't stand the feeling of watching my body go through the motions of life without actually feeling anything. And though I can't stand the idea of taking yet another pill in the morning that makes me feel like somebody else, I do not attest the anti-depressants prescribed by my therapist. I know pills are not a solution, nor a means to an end but it is something to get me by till I find my way. Because problems cannot be fixed by pills, only the decisions we make when we're off them.
Danny was so energetic and honest, the brightest spark in any crowd. He was the love of my life, that sweet child. To teach him we had him run, run to find his letters or the answer to a sum. He whirled and twirled and his smile... wow, I wish I could take that feeling in my heart when he smiled and warm yours with it. It was akin to watching a flower bloom, something beautiful.
When I describe my mental outlook I sound like a poster child for ADHD. I'm impulsive, hyperactive and have problems maintaining attention on the task in hand. When I go anywhere by foot I go as fast as I can, I love to run and move. I only read short stories and the shorter the better, I can't keep too many characters or plot lines in my head at one time. I love to shop in a whim, I get so excited by the new clothes of the season, new colors and fabrics I just can't help myself! I never graduated school, but I found a career that was right for me. I'm a dog trainer and walker!The dogs love my natural exuberance, my energy and enthusiasm every day is a bonus to them. I get them good and tired on nice long hikes and their owners love me.
My legs are on fire and my arms need to move. There's a cupboard and I don't know what's in it. There are beads on the counter. I want to flick them. The fire in my legs is building like the energy in a compressed spring. I want to shout. I need to shout. Mrs Nebesnuik is giving me the evil eye. I could run to the school field. My hands are twitching. Eyes blinking. Mom said sit still in class but I have to go, to go, to go. I hear the clunk of my chair legs, their rocking. The view bobs up and down as my head begins to sway. My watcher leaves her chair but she's too late. I'm off - a force of nature. You can't cork a volcano or squash an earthquake, you can't dam Niagra falls an you can't damn me. "Wheeeeee!" The papers are flying, desks fall, the door bangs the wall as it opens and rebounds on Mrs N. The corridors are a blur, "Wheeeeeee!" Out in the breeze, to the field with my entourage of followers in silly floral frocks and strappy sandals, "Wheeeeee!"
Everything Shannon says goes right in one ear and out the other. Instead of listening to the diatribe of her day I'm looking to see what vital bits of her kit she's lost today. Before she's finished talking to me she darts upstairs, for what I don't know. Her lunch box isn't in her satchel, neither is her calculator or waterbottle. None of things are break-the-bank expensive but constantly replacing these five or ten buck items is killing me. Her door slams and she's racing to the computer, still chatting as she goes, no awareness at all that her "audience" isn't replying...
Two hours after I expected Stacey home she drifts in as if on a cloud, her mind elsewhere. To my barrage of questions she blinks, still lost in whatever daydream is currently dominating her mind. When she finally speaks it comes out in a wild burst, as if "speaking mode" was violently activated. "Oh, Mom, I got lost. I had a map and I read it but nothing made sense. The roads were in the wrong places, you wouldn't believe it. So I walked and walked until things got familiar. Did you hear about the new space probe that just got launched?...."
I feel like a used car with a price sticker, only instead of numbers it just says ADHD and no-one wants a problem car, do they? The counsellor is real sweet, she has toys, good ones. She laughs like she means it and answers my questions, even the ones that make other people angry. Then I'm back in class, back in the foster home, everyone's least favourite biped. "Kyle, finish your work," "Kyle, sit down, "Kyle, be quiet." For once, just for once, I'd love to hear "Kyle, let's go race frogs," or "Kyle, let's jump on a trampoline," or "Who cares about tidy bedrooms? Let's go build a fort in the woods." They never do though. Never.