Wednesday, September 07, 2005


Mike S. Adams today writes on a topic that directly affects me. In his essay How I cured adult ADHD he begins with the premise that the disorder is fiction, made up by well meaning but clueless social engineers to provide yet another means by which people can evade responsibility. He's right, up to a point:
After being diagnosed with ADHD, two things usually happen to the newly “disadvantaged” student. First, a psychologist tells the victim that he cannot pay attention nor control various impulses. Next, he is given a dosage of drugs. Neither one of these responses actually works. In fact, telling him that he cannot pay attention – rather than that he simply does not pay attention – usually reinforces the problem. The drugs don’t work because, again, the disorder is fictional.
He doesn't go into why the disorder is fictional. I'm sure that would take up a lot more space than he is allowed for a daily essay, and whether the disorder is real or imagined doesn't change the problems faced by the afflicted. If one is diagnosed with ADHD, one can either accept the diagnosis and proceed with treatment, or blow off the quack and find another doctor.

Several years ago I was given just such a diagnosis. For me, it was a revelation. It explained so many things in my life that were previously mysterious and frustrating to comprehend. What it did not do was provide an excuse for continuing to be a f**kup. Not that I've been a model of efficiency and discipline - far from it - but I don't blame anyone but myself for failing to apply the knowledge I've gained.

My wonderful and long suffering boyfriend "TweetiePie" will no doubt read this and think "then why doesn't she ever clean the house?" BECAUSE IT BORES ME TO TEARS!

We met at the racetrack 12+ years ago when I and a former colleague thought it would be fun to race karts. I've always been an uncorragible tomboy who likes to get her hands greasy and go fast on anything with wheels. At least for a while. I get bored with things that once fascinated me to distraction. I used to ride my motorcycle, now its covered in dust and the carbs are clogged with gook. I used to ride my ridiculously expensive Cannondale Delta-V 4 or 5 times a week, now it gets ridden, say, once or twice a year at one or another track for expedience of travel to-and-from registration. I used to take care of my little flower gardens and now they contain some really lovely weeds and broken down Dahlias. This is a constant pattern with me. I have little doubt that within a year I will abandon this blog because it, too will bore me to tears. I haven't bought nearly enough guns to get bored with shooting yet.

One of the worst problems faced by those with ADD or ADHD is coping with this boredom. I have worked for the same company for 19 years. In the beginning, I changed projects every 6 to 18 months and that kept me interested and amused with new technologies and people and places and code. For the last 6(?) years I have been working on the same stinking project and there are some mornings when I literally consider suicide to be preferable to spending another 8 hour day sitting in front of my monitor chastising myself for not doing something productive. What the hell am I doing right now? Neglecting work and blogging about poor little me!

Well? STFU, pop another Ritalin and get back to work you whiner! OK!

See how Dr. Mike is right even if he may be wrong about the validity of the disorder? ADHD: Real or Fictional, the proper therapy is to take personal responsibility. I still won't clean the house, but I will keep my guns clean.