I'm think I'm turning into my parents,turning into my parents, I really think so!
This is the second post in my friend M's blog writing exercise, which you can learn about here. And I think I've stated the topic in the most obvious fashion in my title!My parents. I love my parents. I also love my step-parents, including my ex-step-parent. But this is about the Sperm and the Egg that made me, and how they've really made me ME.
In the last five years, I became really aware about how my parents' genetics are my genetics. This has a lot to do with being diagnosed by several doctors with ADHD as a 27-year-old adult. They also officially diagnosed me with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder)--which I more or less knew. Now, my mother was diagnosed with ADHD five years before my diagnosis. She's a therapist, she's long had the GAD diagnosis, but the ADHD thing was sort of a shocker. My mother at age 52 had started taking Ritalin. Then she switched to Adderall, which was smoother for her.
At the time, I was in a year of "I graduated from college! I have two part-time jobs that are okay, but I don't know what I want to do with my life, so I'm just going to party with my friends all the time!" Mom immediately copied a questionaire for me to fill out, a self-assessment for ADHD. At the time, all I could see was, "Dude, that's so my boyfriend." My self-assessment score was not high enough to indicate I was ADHD. I mean, seriously! I'd graduated from college with honors and made the deans list my two semesters! I'd received a gender studies minor! I was shy as a kid, not hyper. I'd made the grades in high school to get into the prestigious liberal arts college I'd just graduated from. ADHD? No way.
But then five years later, I was working for a lecture series and Dr. Edward Hallowell was a speaker. Hallowell and Dr. John Ratey were sort of the biggest of the ADHD wigs out there, though the field has grown as has research since they first published THE ADHD book, "Driven to Distraction." Hallowell has ADHD himself, and during his talk, he talked about that and about his daughter's diagnosis, the differences between how girls and boys manifest their ADHD and how ADHD girls have often gone under the radar because they don't exhibit so much of the H in ADHD. H=Hyperactivity. But the AD..."Attention Deficit"--for ADHD girls, the AD manifests in lots of daydreaming, looking out the window a lot in class, getting lost in their thoughts instead of fully engaging in class or social activities, preferring to play make-believe alone than go over to a friend's to play afterschool. SHY. QUIET. OFTEN MISSES SOME OF THE FINER POINTS OF AN ASSIGNMENT. OUT TO LUNCH.
At this point, I almost slapped myself in the side of the head and yelled, "Holy CRAP! Did you get a docier with all my elementary school progress reports?" I'd gotten the grades, but yeah, they tended to be B-pluses and A-minuses because I'd missed that something while thinking about something else. Like a strong thesis statement, or to use margins, or write in pen. My neighbor Karl used to make fun of me running around in my backyard, going in circles physically, but going all over the world and through time in my mind: "Ha, ha. Jessica's in her little make believe land again. She's stupid."
My mother was fairly shy when I was a child, and I think she was quite shy as a child. She didn't know what she wanted to do in her life. When she was young, she probably had her own make-believe land, but she didn't get to go there as often because her parents were strict. She was a quiet woman while married to my father. That's changed for her. Likewise, I'm not exactly quiet anymore, though I do get extremely shy at times. My mother and I exhibit our shyness in the same kind of way--overly enthusiastic, asking inane questions to overcome the shyness and to get that feeling that we belong. Sometimes, we're just too much and a person becomes overwhelmed by our sometimes desperate attempts to feel connected and at ease. But Mom isn't as loud, as stubborn, or have as short of a temper as I do. Those things I've learned from my father.
My dad's family talks a lot, and they talk loud. I have a softer voice, so, with a little ADHD power, I've developed an unhealthy knack for interrupting my loud family to be heard. And my father's family, we're all total drama queens and kings. We get pissy at each other at the drop of a hat. In group settings, it's virtually impossible for any of us to drop our point to hear each other's opinions in a fair, balanced way. We scream at each other when we're pissed and then we forgive and forget within twenty minutes.
Now I love my father and he loves me. But this history makes it incredibly difficult for me to discuss dilemnas because I feel like he's always telling me I'm wrong, and he feels like I won't let him ever finish a damn sentence before I get defensive. We let it go, but it's harder than it used to be. I guess Dad and I have grown too, because we don't flow with the fast fights and fast forgivenesses anymore. I'm sick of yelling for attention or to get a point across and I'm sick of him yelling at me when I interrupt him. I think the shift has a lot to do with W and with my step-mother, who are more sensitive about the family's old tendencies, and who recognize how much my father and I both want to be listened to and feel respect from each other. Likewise, through our independant romantic relationships, we've also recognized that Dad and I desire more from one another. But our dynamic has been really resistant to change. There's a distance.
Part of that distance is that I live in Seattle, and he doesn't. W's family treats me like I've always been in their family, and my father's dedication to his in-laws and step-sons is strong. And then there is the ADHD. I honestly don't know if he buys it. My stepmom, who is certain one if not both of her boys are ADHD, doesn't buy it. They think of the H, not the AD and the latter is the part that which causes me to struggle to connect in meaningful ways in large family gathering, to listen fully to my father's opinions and to consider them fully before responding.
My mother, she gets these things. That doesn't mean that we always connect in meaningful ways in large family gatherings because our ADHD often manifests in a craving for structure and plans, which is emphasized by the anxiety. We panic solo about if this family member is paying enough attention or love to this member, about how we're all going to get to point A from point B and back again in time for this and this. We're so busy overstimulating ourselves, we can't stop to notice that everyone would rather kick it in the kitchen than gather around the living room, and that's a deficit. We struggle to connect with everyone in the family because we're so hyper focused, or unfocused in our attention. The attention deficit isn't always an inability to focus on anything; it's often an inability to shift the focus off what it's zoned in on.
As an adult, I see how I've turned into my parents pretty clearly. But I've been like them all along. The things I've shared here, they're the tricky things I share with my parents, and they also are the things about me that don't always mesh so well in my private day-to-day interactions, dilemnas, and feelings. And while I can't change that I have ADHD and so does my mother, and I can't change that Dad and I will always have differences in opinion and struggle to listen to each other (I'm not entirely convinced that he's not ADHD too), there are changes I can make--creating time one-on-one with my parents away from the rest of the family zoo, building my compassion towards them when I'm feeling Dad's frustration or when my mother is trying to eat a snack, walk to the doctor, and drop off a letter in a mailbox while I'm trying to talk to her on the phone. I can say, "I'm feeling hot and having a hard time listening to what you're really saying right now, Dad, maybe we should pause." I can say, "Hey, Mom, can you call me back when you're not in-between ten things so I can ask you some questions that are on my mind?" I can build my mindfulness of where my anxiety and my interruptions and inane comments are more prone to pop up and devise ways to avoid those places, or try to look at them in new ways.
There are so many things I've adopted from my parents that are good. Generousity, dedication, a caring heart, a social compass, and passionate drive to right what is wrong. I might not always invest these qualities in the right places, but I try. I care. They care. We want to learn, and share too and I know this won't change; I'm okay with that.
In the last five years, I became really aware about how my parents' genetics are my genetics. This has a lot to do with being diagnosed by several doctors with ADHD as a 27-year-old adult. They also officially diagnosed me with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder)--which I more or less knew. Now, my mother was diagnosed with ADHD five years before my diagnosis. She's a therapist, she's long had the GAD diagnosis, but the ADHD thing was sort of a shocker. My mother at age 52 had started taking Ritalin. Then she switched to Adderall, which was smoother for her.
At the time, I was in a year of "I graduated from college! I have two part-time jobs that are okay, but I don't know what I want to do with my life, so I'm just going to party with my friends all the time!" Mom immediately copied a questionaire for me to fill out, a self-assessment for ADHD. At the time, all I could see was, "Dude, that's so my boyfriend." My self-assessment score was not high enough to indicate I was ADHD. I mean, seriously! I'd graduated from college with honors and made the deans list my two semesters! I'd received a gender studies minor! I was shy as a kid, not hyper. I'd made the grades in high school to get into the prestigious liberal arts college I'd just graduated from. ADHD? No way.
But then five years later, I was working for a lecture series and Dr. Edward Hallowell was a speaker. Hallowell and Dr. John Ratey were sort of the biggest of the ADHD wigs out there, though the field has grown as has research since they first published THE ADHD book, "Driven to Distraction." Hallowell has ADHD himself, and during his talk, he talked about that and about his daughter's diagnosis, the differences between how girls and boys manifest their ADHD and how ADHD girls have often gone under the radar because they don't exhibit so much of the H in ADHD. H=Hyperactivity. But the AD..."Attention Deficit"--for ADHD girls, the AD manifests in lots of daydreaming, looking out the window a lot in class, getting lost in their thoughts instead of fully engaging in class or social activities, preferring to play make-believe alone than go over to a friend's to play afterschool. SHY. QUIET. OFTEN MISSES SOME OF THE FINER POINTS OF AN ASSIGNMENT. OUT TO LUNCH.
At this point, I almost slapped myself in the side of the head and yelled, "Holy CRAP! Did you get a docier with all my elementary school progress reports?" I'd gotten the grades, but yeah, they tended to be B-pluses and A-minuses because I'd missed that something while thinking about something else. Like a strong thesis statement, or to use margins, or write in pen. My neighbor Karl used to make fun of me running around in my backyard, going in circles physically, but going all over the world and through time in my mind: "Ha, ha. Jessica's in her little make believe land again. She's stupid."
My mother was fairly shy when I was a child, and I think she was quite shy as a child. She didn't know what she wanted to do in her life. When she was young, she probably had her own make-believe land, but she didn't get to go there as often because her parents were strict. She was a quiet woman while married to my father. That's changed for her. Likewise, I'm not exactly quiet anymore, though I do get extremely shy at times. My mother and I exhibit our shyness in the same kind of way--overly enthusiastic, asking inane questions to overcome the shyness and to get that feeling that we belong. Sometimes, we're just too much and a person becomes overwhelmed by our sometimes desperate attempts to feel connected and at ease. But Mom isn't as loud, as stubborn, or have as short of a temper as I do. Those things I've learned from my father.
My dad's family talks a lot, and they talk loud. I have a softer voice, so, with a little ADHD power, I've developed an unhealthy knack for interrupting my loud family to be heard. And my father's family, we're all total drama queens and kings. We get pissy at each other at the drop of a hat. In group settings, it's virtually impossible for any of us to drop our point to hear each other's opinions in a fair, balanced way. We scream at each other when we're pissed and then we forgive and forget within twenty minutes.
Now I love my father and he loves me. But this history makes it incredibly difficult for me to discuss dilemnas because I feel like he's always telling me I'm wrong, and he feels like I won't let him ever finish a damn sentence before I get defensive. We let it go, but it's harder than it used to be. I guess Dad and I have grown too, because we don't flow with the fast fights and fast forgivenesses anymore. I'm sick of yelling for attention or to get a point across and I'm sick of him yelling at me when I interrupt him. I think the shift has a lot to do with W and with my step-mother, who are more sensitive about the family's old tendencies, and who recognize how much my father and I both want to be listened to and feel respect from each other. Likewise, through our independant romantic relationships, we've also recognized that Dad and I desire more from one another. But our dynamic has been really resistant to change. There's a distance.
Part of that distance is that I live in Seattle, and he doesn't. W's family treats me like I've always been in their family, and my father's dedication to his in-laws and step-sons is strong. And then there is the ADHD. I honestly don't know if he buys it. My stepmom, who is certain one if not both of her boys are ADHD, doesn't buy it. They think of the H, not the AD and the latter is the part that which causes me to struggle to connect in meaningful ways in large family gathering, to listen fully to my father's opinions and to consider them fully before responding.
My mother, she gets these things. That doesn't mean that we always connect in meaningful ways in large family gatherings because our ADHD often manifests in a craving for structure and plans, which is emphasized by the anxiety. We panic solo about if this family member is paying enough attention or love to this member, about how we're all going to get to point A from point B and back again in time for this and this. We're so busy overstimulating ourselves, we can't stop to notice that everyone would rather kick it in the kitchen than gather around the living room, and that's a deficit. We struggle to connect with everyone in the family because we're so hyper focused, or unfocused in our attention. The attention deficit isn't always an inability to focus on anything; it's often an inability to shift the focus off what it's zoned in on.
As an adult, I see how I've turned into my parents pretty clearly. But I've been like them all along. The things I've shared here, they're the tricky things I share with my parents, and they also are the things about me that don't always mesh so well in my private day-to-day interactions, dilemnas, and feelings. And while I can't change that I have ADHD and so does my mother, and I can't change that Dad and I will always have differences in opinion and struggle to listen to each other (I'm not entirely convinced that he's not ADHD too), there are changes I can make--creating time one-on-one with my parents away from the rest of the family zoo, building my compassion towards them when I'm feeling Dad's frustration or when my mother is trying to eat a snack, walk to the doctor, and drop off a letter in a mailbox while I'm trying to talk to her on the phone. I can say, "I'm feeling hot and having a hard time listening to what you're really saying right now, Dad, maybe we should pause." I can say, "Hey, Mom, can you call me back when you're not in-between ten things so I can ask you some questions that are on my mind?" I can build my mindfulness of where my anxiety and my interruptions and inane comments are more prone to pop up and devise ways to avoid those places, or try to look at them in new ways.
There are so many things I've adopted from my parents that are good. Generousity, dedication, a caring heart, a social compass, and passionate drive to right what is wrong. I might not always invest these qualities in the right places, but I try. I care. They care. We want to learn, and share too and I know this won't change; I'm okay with that.
posted by Jess | 12:51 AM
2 Comments:
Hello Jess - This IS the mother you are becoming. I mean, really, this is me, Susan, the woman who raised that day-dreaming, shy, remarkable you. I did not anticipate reading about myself when i clicked into your blog tonight. You capture me pretty darn well, you know. I am not certain I could describe myself as accurately as you do. Oh, and thanks for some lovely complements. Now, since I am eating dinner, playing with the cat, listening to Obama, while writing this, I will sign off. Love you - Mom
I love you, Mom. Even when you do a 100 things at once when I'm trying to talk to you. I feel so supported knowing that you read this and felt affinity and not anger, and that you understand the intent in this piece: that these shared qualities teach me a lot about myself and about my parents, and that my parents and I both are invested in learning and growing past the little struggles that arise from our shared qualities and genetics. Like I said in the essay, you get it. Thank you.
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