When I was in elementary school, 5th grade, my mother and grandmother took me to a childhood mental health care center and I was prescribed ADHD medication. It was prescribed to me after only one visit, but the doctor said it was a clear-cut case of ADHD.
I had been on medication for ADHD once before. I was in 1st grade, and what they had given me was basically meth for me. I started acting like a tweeker. I was hallucinating insects on my skin, I barely ate, and I started trying to take my medication more often than I was supposed to. Mom pulled me off it the second she realized--so, I don’t exactly have a good history with these kinds of things. Dad (whom did not live with and was never married to my mom), who I was living with at the time,) flipped out once he was told about the whole ordeal.
Flash forward to fifth grade; dad already had a bias against therapy and medication, and was really upset that mom and grandma had basically gone behind his back to do this. But, I told him I wanted this, and he begrudgingly agreed to see how it played out.
Now, this was over half my lifetime ago, so I don’t remember specifics. But, I do remember that I was happier. If I had to guess, it was probably easier for me to begin tasks and keep motivation, as well as making life feel generally less overwhelming.
But, I was still failing in school. And THAT was the reason dad had agreed to the meds to begin with, and what got my mom to try going behind his back to do it in the first place.
I kept insisting that I was happier on the medication, but I wasn’t wise enough to understand why it made me happier and just how it was affecting me. I wasn't wise enough to say that I hated school with the fiery passion of Apollo’s rage, and nothing short of a lobotomy was going to change that.
And, of course, me insisting that I should keep taking my meds just reminded mom of me, in first grade, scratching fervently at my skin and twiglike from appetite loss, asking if I could please take my medication now. She must have been scared and agreed with my dad.
And so I was taken off my ADHD meds, we never talked about it again, and I went back to thining I was worthless and had no future because I was doing terribly in school. In fifth grade. I completely forgot about this until a dream triggered the memory. I’m gonna need to talk to my doc about this.
I guess the reason I’m sharing this is:
YOUR GRADES AND HOW YOU PERFORM IN SCHOOL ARE NOT MEASURES OF YOUR WORTH. THEY ARE NOT NECESSARILY MEASURES OF IF YOUR MEDICATION IS OR IS NOT WORKING.
Most of y’all who follow me are in highschool or graduated by now, but on the off-chance one of you needed to hear this, or if you had a similar experience, then this post is for you. If I’d understood that my issues with school weren’t due to any sort of disorder, but because I’m the kind of kid public schools chew up and spit out, and if I’d been able to communicate that, maybe I’d be in a different place in life right now.
And I think it’s time for me to accept that, while part of me is truly kind of a lazy slob, having my brain stuck on starting one task for hours on end without actually beginning the task even though I want to might just be executive dysfunction.
