And two points on your average if you guess the inspiration for the title of today’s post. All kidding aside, today is a proud moment for me. It represents the culmination of a great deal of work over several years. And it’s almost a miracle that it came to fruition.
It’s taken a great deal of my lifetime to determine some of my strengths. I’m thankful to have been able to reach that realization, though there are more that may never surface. As strong a person as I am, I may not have the strength to permit myself to let those things shine. And, yet, I’m loathe to leave this world without shining all of my light.
In the past few years, I’ve allowed myself to see that I am stifling my own existence. I began another blog (sporadictravel.com) where it is my mission to help others overcome challenges in order to get out and live their lives. Whether a person is challenged by mental or physical health issues, each of us deserves to be able to enjoy our lives. That blog is still in its beginning stages but please check it out.
It has become apparent to me that, throughout much of my life, my actions have directly related to a specific goal. But those goals were those set by others or what I felt was expected. Due to circumstances in my early life, I was constantly seeking approval. I’ve spent much of my adult life achieving goals that were expected of me and not necessarily what I wanted.
Don’t get me wrong. At this point I’m not unhappy with the way things have turned out. Is it what I envisioned for myself? No, but neither is it unpleasant. After all, if I hadn’t become a teacher I wouldn’t have been touched by the lives of my students. I poured my heart and soul into my teaching. It took a great toll on me, leaving me literally unable to continue due to physical health issues. But I wouldn’t change that decision to teach.
In reality, it’s taken me a great deal of my lifetime to learn who I am. It sounds trite but there it is. I was a happy-go-lucky kid. I was interested in everything, especially if it involved being outdoors. Once my motor ran down enough, I’d go inside and read. And read. And read some more.
But when it came to school I found myself daydreaming constantly. While I did well in most subject areas, some were difficult and required a concentration that I did not possess. I wiggled in my seat, bounced my legs up and down, gazed endlessly out the window.
I was also the kid any teacher could turn to for help. I’d pass out papers, help another kid learn to tie his shoes, go into the girls room after the girl who ran off crying, deliver things to the office, etc. Oddly enough, despite my lack of ability to focus, I managed to leave high school in the top 20% of my class and graduated from college and grad school with honors…all the while being chirped at by my teachers and my mom that I really could have done so much better.
Deep down I knew it was probably true but when I expressed that I could not make improvements, I was not believed. The importance is in the word choice. Never did I say I would not or I chose not to improve, I said I could not. I physically and mentally could not.
Looking back I can see it’s affected most every part of my life. I was a decent athlete when younger. I should have been much better than I was. Again, I could not. Though I practiced and tried over and over, I just could not.
You know that joke about being easily distracted? It’s the one where someone yells ”squirrel” to distract another person from a task? I’m the definition of the person who has to look. I often explained to my students that I had to keep the classroom door closed because I was too easily distracted. Truer words were never spoken. My mind never stops any sort of thought process and it can change its focus at an abnormal super-human rate. And my mind’s thought associations go far beyond other people’s capabilities of understanding. I’m not slighting any one else’s intelligence.
Sometimes I wonder if it stems from my being mostly left-handed. I say that because I’m somewhat ambidextrous though I tend to perform fine motor skills (writing, eating) with my left hand and gross motor skills (sports, tools) with my right hand. I learned the hard way that I cannot successfully wield a truth brush with my right hand or I lacerate my gums.
That’s all well and good but it’s darn confusing. When being shown how to do something, I find I’m automatically translating in my head from right-handed instructions to left-handed use. But at any moment I may find myself doing something equally well with either hand…think ping pong or cross stitch. I clumsily knit and crochet right handed.
Unless I’m involved in an activity that I truly enjoy/love, I am unable to sustain any focus. And so the fact I’ve written a book is astonishing to me. Plus it’s non-fiction requiring documentation and organization. Here’s the rub…I love to research. It appeals to my squirrelly distracted nature because while looking at one thing, one finds something else interesting and needs to run that idea down only to find another…you get the drift. In the meantime you’ve thought of another idea and the process starts all over again.
That’s enough. I am going to label this strange phenomenon and some of you will take umbrage. I honestly don’t care because I once was one of you, scoffing at this. But I’m going to own it because of the challenge it has presented to me throughout my life. It’s called ADHD. I know I seem anything but hyperactive but that’s only on the exterior. My interior is running at a rate that is exhausting, but hey…I wrote a book!
Stories Are For Eternity 