Cooper Nemeth's body was discovered in the past month. He was 17, a good kid, an athlete and was recently diagnosed with ADHD, depression and anxiety. His parents were afraid of him turning to drugs because of the diagnosis.
Raising an ADD child is challenging. With mine, he had one idea in his head and then there was the truth. He chose to believe what was in his head. He dwelled on the negative rather than the positive and never thought he was good enough. He listened to his peers instead of his parents and often I would lie awake at night wondering if this is the night the police would be at my door asking me to identify a body.
I know the exact moment he changed. At 10, he was like a big fluffy puppy dog, all limbs, happy and full of laughter. His sense of humour was contagious and his personality was infectious. Adults adored him, and so did most of the kids. There were always the one or two that didn't, but he handled that okay.
He excelled at any sport he touched. I remember his years of playing baseball and he would be out in left field watching a bird, scratching his head, with a ball coming directly for him and he would reach his arm up and snag that beast in mid flight.
He ran track in school, while smoking a pack a day, and ran in combat boots. Won every single time.
Around 12 or 13 things slide downhill fast. He ran into a group of bad influences, he refused to listen to anything we said and stayed away days at a time. He had a steady job, went to school, but still marched to his own dysfunctional drummer. Speaking to him was like speaking to someone who did not understand English.
I kept trying to get him to see the positive of ADD; it is a gift. People will ADD see the world differently and can accomplish so much more than someone without ADD. You just need to channel that energy in a positive way.
Unfortunately, the kids my son knew, used it to their advantage; staying away from home, drinking, and getting into fights. No matter what we said or did, nothing changed. We tried psychiatric counselling, medication, going off medication, talking, begging, pleading. Nothing worked.
As a parent, I have never been so lost or confused as during this time. And angry. Dammit. I was very angry. My husband I both had horrific childhoods. Between the two of us we suffered severe poverty to the point where there was no food, beatings, severe sexual abuse, torture and emotional dissonance. We both made the promise to each other early on in our relationship that when we had children, we would treat them like people, not objects. We would love them unconditionally, think about their feelings make sure they knew they were loved, ensure their well being with clothing and food. And value and respect them. We did that, and it still blew up in our face.
Having kids is a crapshoot. Any good teacher or psychologist will tell you that. You can do all the right things and it can still turn out less than stellar. Or, conversely, you can starve, beat or abuse your kids emotionally, telling them things like I wish I used a condom with you, and have them turn into the most incredible caring and empathic people out there.
I read about Cooper and my heart broke. My heart broke for Cooper and the choices he made; my heart shattered for his parents, who I am sure were doing everything they thought they could to help Cooper, but it still wasn't enough.
Some ADD kids are tough, strong willed, strong minded, focused and make good decisions. Then there are the ones like Cooper who tend to be followers and controlled by the wrong kinds of people.
I have no clue what the answer is. I thought I did before I had children, cause it seemed so simple to me: love them, respect them, feed them, nurture their minds and they will stay in your wolf pack forever.
Nope. Apparently doing all the right things will still bring you heartache and grief.
I am so sorry for your loss, Brent and Gaylene. You are in my thoughts and prayers. I hope you see the strength, wisdom and joy you gave Cooper and I hope you find your way back from Hell.
The Dogs of Depression: A Guide for Happy People
Showing posts with label ADD. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ADD. Show all posts
Friday, 11 March 2016
Monday, 2 November 2015
Abandoned
Another new year has begun for me. Halloween always strikes me as New Year's Eve, November 1 as a day of remembering your ancestors and November 2 as the start of a New Year. Makes much more sense to me than December 31.
This year has been difficult, mentally, physically and emotionally. I do not want a repeat.
I lost my child. No, not to death, not to miscarriage, not to drugs. He is still alive and very healthy and probably very happy, but he is gone. He was married to a wonderful girl about five years ago. Her family had issues (who's doesn't), but unfortunately her issues took over my son's life, soul and spirt.
My son is kind, compassionate, caring, and also ADD to the nth degree, which can make him selfish, self-centred and not able to think about the further consequences of action. Sometimes I think he is more 15 than 30. I can say these things because I am the same way. Growing up, my middle child and I were identical. We loved the same music, we laughed at the same jokes, we told the same stories and we were happy. Except for when we were down. Then that took over our lives.
At work, however, he is conscientious, resourceful, bright, funny, inventive and gifted. Actually, I think he is extremely gifted. He could be an outstanding artist if he chose to work at it, or an outstanding tattooist. He has many talents.
But like some people with ADD, he is also extremely stubborn, strong willed and listens more to friends than family. He's been like that since he was 13. His friends had more of an influence and power over him than my husband or I ever did.
I cried myself to sleep for more nights than I care to remember. and I questioned everything I did as a parent, a mother, a wife. When I found out he moved back to the province and then practically across the street from us, it crushed me. Completely. I still have no contact with him, do not know his phone number or his address. And I still think about him every single day.
My husband and I had horrible childhoods; torture, rape, abuse, starvation, psychopathic parents, and we both swore if we ever had children we would not do to them what was done to us. We would listen, we would ask questions, we would talk and discuss, and love. And we foolishly thought this would make a difference. A teacher once told us, having kids is a crapshoot. You never know what you are going to get. And he was correct.
My husband and I still talk to our parents. And then, when I thought we did all the right things, we are abandoned.
All I can do is try to move on. And not let this tear me apart.
ABANDONED: Bif Naked
Well you packed me away in the trunk of your car.
You drove me so fast and so far.
I tried to fight but its so hard.
The only momento is this scar.
Where were you when i needed you?
Somethings missing, and I can't breathe.
Where were you? Where were you?
Somethings missing.
You abandoned me.
Oh when you look deep into my mind.
That is so tired and weak from this life.
On the verge of fear all the time.
I feel like you left me here to die.
Shaking in my boots, you shook me down.
You really took me down.
Shaking my foundation, not to be found.
Never to be found.
Where were you? Where were you?
You abandoned me.
You abandoned me.
You abandoned me.
This year has been difficult, mentally, physically and emotionally. I do not want a repeat.
I lost my child. No, not to death, not to miscarriage, not to drugs. He is still alive and very healthy and probably very happy, but he is gone. He was married to a wonderful girl about five years ago. Her family had issues (who's doesn't), but unfortunately her issues took over my son's life, soul and spirt.
My son is kind, compassionate, caring, and also ADD to the nth degree, which can make him selfish, self-centred and not able to think about the further consequences of action. Sometimes I think he is more 15 than 30. I can say these things because I am the same way. Growing up, my middle child and I were identical. We loved the same music, we laughed at the same jokes, we told the same stories and we were happy. Except for when we were down. Then that took over our lives.
At work, however, he is conscientious, resourceful, bright, funny, inventive and gifted. Actually, I think he is extremely gifted. He could be an outstanding artist if he chose to work at it, or an outstanding tattooist. He has many talents.
But like some people with ADD, he is also extremely stubborn, strong willed and listens more to friends than family. He's been like that since he was 13. His friends had more of an influence and power over him than my husband or I ever did.
As a teen, we tried to keep him centered, but as with most people with a mental illness, he chose to self medicate and act out. Got into trouble, acted out more, got into more trouble. It was a horrible time for us as a family as we had a special needs child, and another teenager. At one point I lost my job and was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and a mild form of MS. Life was crazy.
He did get his life together. He is very successful in his career, is responsible and, I believe, happy. Unfortunately, he chose to blame all his bad decisions as an adult on me. When I got the phone call, I was in shock. My son and I had a great relationship growing up, so this was so out of left field for me. I still do not know how or why he chose to say the things he did, but it's been a year and I feel like my child has died. I grieved for months.
I cried myself to sleep for more nights than I care to remember. and I questioned everything I did as a parent, a mother, a wife. When I found out he moved back to the province and then practically across the street from us, it crushed me. Completely. I still have no contact with him, do not know his phone number or his address. And I still think about him every single day.
My husband and I had horrible childhoods; torture, rape, abuse, starvation, psychopathic parents, and we both swore if we ever had children we would not do to them what was done to us. We would listen, we would ask questions, we would talk and discuss, and love. And we foolishly thought this would make a difference. A teacher once told us, having kids is a crapshoot. You never know what you are going to get. And he was correct.
My husband and I still talk to our parents. And then, when I thought we did all the right things, we are abandoned.
All I can do is try to move on. And not let this tear me apart.
ABANDONED: Bif Naked
Well you packed me away in the trunk of your car.
You drove me so fast and so far.
I tried to fight but its so hard.
The only momento is this scar.
Where were you when i needed you?
Somethings missing, and I can't breathe.
Where were you? Where were you?
Somethings missing.
You abandoned me.
Oh when you look deep into my mind.
That is so tired and weak from this life.
On the verge of fear all the time.
I feel like you left me here to die.
Shaking in my boots, you shook me down.
You really took me down.
Shaking my foundation, not to be found.
Never to be found.
Where were you? Where were you?
You abandoned me.
You abandoned me.
You abandoned me.
Monday, 8 December 2014
Float.Calm, Writing, Lucid Dreaming, Stress Reduction
I had a powerful experience yesterday. I floated...in space...freefall...for 90 blissful minutes.
Picture this: a serene room painted with walls of mauve and blues; aromatherapy misting in the background with clean, fresh scents, a private shower on white tiled floors, orchids, a wooden table with clean, pressed towels and a pod. The pod is roughly 12 feet long and 8 feet wide on the outside, rectangular with softly rounded corners and a molded ergonomic handle. You pull it open and the inside this blissful womb is six inches of water and 850 pounds of therapeutic Epsom salts. The water and salt is a perfect 93 degrees. You climb in the pod, shut the door...and you are transported, through space and time, dimension and planes into a completely relaxed, stress free journey. For the next 90 minutes, all you can hear is your heartbeat and your breath. You can see nothing but a wall of black and you are perfectly comfortable.
This is HUGE. I am claustrophobic, have ADD+, or as I call it, ADD High Octane, and I am a writer. Between being a writer and ADD, my mind never shuts up. We have conversations, arguments, debates. Sometimes we throw parties, invite the neighbourhood, the townsfolk, and the next three cities over. And we all talk at once. We talk about the weather, murder, shopping, poisons, kidnapping, The Big Bang Theory, the next best movie, the next best book, dinner, decomposition, body farms...you get the idea. Did I mention I write horror.? Yeah, I guess that is obvious. Usually, the conversations all happen at the same time AND just as we lie our head on the pillow.
I climbed into this pod and my mind shut down. Completely. There was no chatter. I breathed in and out, listened to my heart beat and my breath, and floated. There was nothing else. I have never experienced anything like this in my life. My body was completely relaxed, my mind was awake and focused and I was without pain. I drifted in and out of consciousness for a while and suddenly I had an amazing idea for the book I was working on: a complete new prologue explaining the history of creation and time. But with vampires...not Stephen Hawkins material. Don't get too excited. Horror. Remember the horror part. It was genius. I took notes afterwards and the idea gelled and formed into a realistic plot form. It even made sense the very next day!
Writers have been there. Trust me. We get brilliant ideas at 3am and we excitedly write down our thoughts in a journal and when we wake up the next morning and look at the scribblings, we wonder if a mad, half drunk lunatic escaped and took notes for us. We convince ourselves it was not us that wrote "Cats that turn into leopards at midnight and steal cars", but someone else. Because, at 3am, that was genius. In the cold morning light, however, it is crap.
But this is different. Floating and shutting out the world frees our minds to do what they do best; solve problems, create, journey, whatever your art form may be.
As a writer, as an anxiety-ridden, over worked, over stressed brain splatter recovery human, this was heaven. I will definitely do it again. And again. And again.
The effects lasted into today. I feel rested. I feel more in control of my work. And I accomplished twice as much as I usually would in the hectic work environment then I usually would have on a Monday.
Break free from your life for 90 minutes. You will thank me later. Float.Calm.
http://www.floatcalm.com
Picture this: a serene room painted with walls of mauve and blues; aromatherapy misting in the background with clean, fresh scents, a private shower on white tiled floors, orchids, a wooden table with clean, pressed towels and a pod. The pod is roughly 12 feet long and 8 feet wide on the outside, rectangular with softly rounded corners and a molded ergonomic handle. You pull it open and the inside this blissful womb is six inches of water and 850 pounds of therapeutic Epsom salts. The water and salt is a perfect 93 degrees. You climb in the pod, shut the door...and you are transported, through space and time, dimension and planes into a completely relaxed, stress free journey. For the next 90 minutes, all you can hear is your heartbeat and your breath. You can see nothing but a wall of black and you are perfectly comfortable.
This is HUGE. I am claustrophobic, have ADD+, or as I call it, ADD High Octane, and I am a writer. Between being a writer and ADD, my mind never shuts up. We have conversations, arguments, debates. Sometimes we throw parties, invite the neighbourhood, the townsfolk, and the next three cities over. And we all talk at once. We talk about the weather, murder, shopping, poisons, kidnapping, The Big Bang Theory, the next best movie, the next best book, dinner, decomposition, body farms...you get the idea. Did I mention I write horror.? Yeah, I guess that is obvious. Usually, the conversations all happen at the same time AND just as we lie our head on the pillow.
I climbed into this pod and my mind shut down. Completely. There was no chatter. I breathed in and out, listened to my heart beat and my breath, and floated. There was nothing else. I have never experienced anything like this in my life. My body was completely relaxed, my mind was awake and focused and I was without pain. I drifted in and out of consciousness for a while and suddenly I had an amazing idea for the book I was working on: a complete new prologue explaining the history of creation and time. But with vampires...not Stephen Hawkins material. Don't get too excited. Horror. Remember the horror part. It was genius. I took notes afterwards and the idea gelled and formed into a realistic plot form. It even made sense the very next day!
Writers have been there. Trust me. We get brilliant ideas at 3am and we excitedly write down our thoughts in a journal and when we wake up the next morning and look at the scribblings, we wonder if a mad, half drunk lunatic escaped and took notes for us. We convince ourselves it was not us that wrote "Cats that turn into leopards at midnight and steal cars", but someone else. Because, at 3am, that was genius. In the cold morning light, however, it is crap.
But this is different. Floating and shutting out the world frees our minds to do what they do best; solve problems, create, journey, whatever your art form may be.
As a writer, as an anxiety-ridden, over worked, over stressed brain splatter recovery human, this was heaven. I will definitely do it again. And again. And again.
The effects lasted into today. I feel rested. I feel more in control of my work. And I accomplished twice as much as I usually would in the hectic work environment then I usually would have on a Monday.
Break free from your life for 90 minutes. You will thank me later. Float.Calm.
http://www.floatcalm.com
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