A Splintered Mind

I came across a great article over at Focused Distractions . They covered what it was like to fall asleep with AD/HD. I encourage all reading this column to jaunt on over and give it a read. The article wasn't about insomnia per se, but more about this little symptom of AD/HD called Hypersensitivity and how it affects common activities. They did a capital job explaining the types of thoughts that race through one's head when one attempts to sleep when they are hyperaware of everything around them. For me, the greatest sensitivity is odor. I must have a dog's nose. I sure don't have a human's nose. I can smell milk going off a week before it thinks about it. I can sense which room my neighbor is sneaking a smoke in. I can tell what my wife had for lunch when we kiss hours later. If there was a superhero team that needed someone with a super sense of smell I'd be their man. I can see the costume now - bright green black checkered spandex covering my entire body ...

Aside from spending the past few weeks sick as a dog with a lingering virus that has moved in and taken up residence. (I'm now receiving it's forwarded mail), I have been paralyzed with indecision. I made my big goals for my 39th birthday, but have stalled on making big goals for my next birthday. I turn forty, so the goals need to be worthy of the event. I am not the type of person who makes New Years Resolutions. I noticed at a young age that most NYRs were broken within a month of their convicted declarations. People seemed to use them as traditional party hats that looked really good on December 31st but were tossed in the trash the next day. With an angry gleam in my eye I would shake my young fist at the foolish traditionalists and make a declaration of my own: Nothing Changes on New Years Day! Actually, that was a line from an old U2 song . At any rate, I have a hang up about NYRs that is deep rooted in teenage angst and is therefore silly since I haven't ...

Two nights ago I asked my thirteen year old daughter for help. I told her I needed her to get me two things from upstairs, but when she asked what they were my mind went blank. I stood there and wrestled with my thoughts to remember what the heck I needed her to get. Soon the neurons in my mind recalled each other's location and I remembered what items I needed, but when I made sure I had her attention I forgot them again so quickly I didn't have a chance to say what they were. She just laughed and laughed. I could have felt frustrated. I certainly felt sheepish, but instead I laughed along with her. I mention this only so you know what type of brain we're working with here when I tell you that last week a reader named Bekah asked me for advice . She shared with me how frustrated she felt when her son, who has ADHD , became frustrated whenever he encountered problems. She wanted to know what she could do to help him. I believe the working theory was that since I had AD/HD I...