Tag Archives: adhd

On Such A Winter’s Day

My day started out like any other typical day. No it didn’t. It started with me almost making my child go to school because I didn’t believe her that her stomach hurt. But, luckily, she starting puking right before I made her put on her uniform. That was a super close mom fail. I almost sent my very sick kid to school. Bless her heart. She continued to puke on and off through the morning then fell asleep from pure exhaustion.

While she was sleeping I decided to try and clean up my room, something someone with ADD is always trying to do but never fully accomplishing. Ever.

As I was attempting this clean up, I glanced out my window at the cold rainy day and thought about how much I dislike cold days. Oh how much I really dislike cold, rainy days. Then something strange happened next. I didn’t go into a weird depressing funk. I had one of those moments where I was so thankful that God was present in my life and showing me progress.

Instead of getting all mopey about my puking kid and the cold wet day I thought about my friend Cyndi. Cyndi loves cold days. The colder the better. I think they remind her of her home, of her childhood in Chicago. I think they take her back to a place in her heart where she had less pain. So I stood there thinking about Cyndi and I was truly happy for her to have this weather. The very weather that I hate and the very weather that actually takes my hermit prone self and catapults it into full seasonal depression makes her happy. I was glad it was a win for her.

So I had a little Mary Poppins moment and was celebrating my victory of coping well, and then this:

Then I went to get my other daughter from school and I got a flat tire.

A FLAT TIRE. The horror. Girls hate flat tires. At least this girls does. Makes me feel helpless.

This is where my attempt to remain positive would for sure have ended before. A flat tire! How could the world possibly go on while I’m stranded with a flat tire.

People, I am a horrible coper. My doctor says I’m one of the worst copers she has ever seen. When she professionally delivered this opinion to me I wanted to be defensive, like geez, I’m just sensitive, what’s so wrong with that?

Hi, my name is Mindy and I am a bad coper.

What does that mean? I fall apart easily. Like when it’s hot or when it’s cold or when the dishes don’t get done, or when my emails come in too fast. I get anxious when I have to plan a birthday party for my kids, or when I have to cook dinner (I know, so pathetic). So a cold day, puking and a flat tire could possibly be a lethal combo. I just can’t deal.

But I’m a recovering bad coper. I recently admitted that this was a problem. After several friends, family, and doctors pointed this out, I had no choice but to admit my weakness. This is how I was made, but I could change.

Sometimes it’s good to be sensitive. But sometimes you’ve got to buck up and deal with life. I need to stop being such a cry baby. I need to learn to dig a little deeper and to turn to God a lot faster and ask Him for help and perspective.

Perspective is helpful. I remembered that the events of my day are first world problems. I remembered my friends who are dealing with bigger problems, like losing loved ones. I remembered that my kids would stop puking and my car would be fixed and I would go home to my warm house where I would use my smartphone and go to my favorites contacts which holds my best friends and family’s phone numbers and the pizza place and I would speed dial Palio’s and order pizza and my husband would pick it up on the way home from buying new tires (me calmly ignoring the fact that we didn’t have the money for that).

Yep. And then I would make this video for my sister in Cali because her kids won’t stop crying. One of my newest coping mechanisms is to make videos for my sister and text them to her. I might make it a feature on my blog, I know you’re so excited.

One day I will tell you funny stories about my older sister, the over achiever coper. She copes too well. Her house could burn to the ground before her eyes and she would be like, “it’s fine” and start making her list of things she needed to do in order to rebuild her house.

We all cope differently. I hope to keep improving my coping abilities. And then I will go back to my doctor and and tell her what’s what.

I realize that it may be too soon in my blogging fun to approach something a little controversial. It is a fact that most Americans will be watching the Superbowl tomorrow. I actually think that the Superbowl is a more unified day in America than any other day. Despite your race, your social class, or your religion you will probably gather with friends and watch or pretend to watch the big game. So many things about the Superbowl are fun, harmless, and good. And so many things about it are destructive, wasteful, excessive, and sinful.

Let’s start with my biggest beef with the Superbowl:

THE MASSIVE AMOUNT OF MONEY SPENT ON A GAME WHEN PEOPLE ARE STARVING ALL OVER AMERICA AND THE WORLD.

Now please, don’t insult me by even thinking that I might think that not having or not watching the Superbowl would even put a dent in solving global poverty. I do not. But I think that the amount of money spent on the Superbowl shows what America really cares about. We care about fun, food, and pleasure to excessive amounts.

My second problem with the Superbowl is . . .

THE NEVER FAMILY FRIENDLY HALF TIME SHOW.

No matter who’s in charge, or who is performing, or what the time delay is, the entertainment industry thrives on pushing the envelope with being as sexual as possible no matter who it hurts or who is watching. Come on, if you have been online or watched any TV in the last two weeks you know how bad the Grammy’s were, and I did not watch the Grammy’s and I don’t think Jesus would either. The entertainers only care about themselves and in general so does America. There are consequences to this sexuality being everywhere and our kids seeing it. Kids are watching the Superbowl, why does no one care about this enough to do something about it? Take a stand if kids are in the room and something inappropriate comes on the television. During the Superbowl or any other time. And if it’s inappropriate for the kids maybe it is inappropriate and harmful to our society in general. Our society is sex crazed! It harms all of us more than we realize.

So what should we do about it?

We should BOYCOTT the Superbowl.

Just kidding. I’m not big into boycotting. I think all of us have the ability to stand against things that are wrong and make an impact for change. But by standing against something I mean doing something to change it!

Here are my suggestions on what we can do:

1. Reduce excess spending and use of material goods in your family. We can slowly change our thinking on this and hopefully start a trend that could change America, and maybe the Superbowl. Check out Jen Hatmaker’s book 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess

2. We can choose not to watch the half time show. Simple.

3. Invite people over who might not have been invited to a Superbowl Party. This one is hard for me, I’ve been loving my introvert-hermit lifestyle lately, and would prefer to be alone.

4. Choose to use every opportunity to love more, listen more, be braver and be kinder, even if that opportunity comes at a Superbowl Party.

So do I think if Jesus was walking the earth tomorrow that he would watch the Superbowl? I do. I think He would be with friends, I think He would invite the friendless and the lonely to his house. I think He would not get drunk. I think He would not watch the half time show. And I think He would use it as an opportunity to love his neighbors. So maybe he wouldn’t be watching the game, per say, because He would be busy loving on everyone, or washing their feet. That’s just what I think, anyways.

Just me thinking,

Mindy Collins

 

I have a serious not so serious disease

written by Mindy Collins

Friends, I am troubled with my serious not so serious disease.
I don’t even know what I should name my disease. Clearly this is the not so serious part because I have to name it because I have made up a disease and self diagnosed myself with it.
I will call it the notafuctionalhumaninthemorning disease.
Now it gets serious.
People joke all the time that they “don’t do mornings” or “don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee”.

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But then there are those morning people, who wake up all like:

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For you morning people please only continue to read if you want to know what this feels like so you can be empathetic. Because while you’re over there doing yoga at 6 am and then putting dinner in the crockpot at 7 before waking your children up to feed them a hot breakfast, I’m over here like this:

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My brain does not work in the morning! I can get out of bed, make lunches, do hair, and pretend to be starting my day. I can go through the motions of waking up and not actually be waking up.

And I am soooooo slow. I mean seriously slow. Painfully slow. Which makes me late. So embarrassing to be a real adult and be late. I mean really, not cool.

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My amazing husband has now come to terms with my morning disease. He is so kind and does everything he can to help. He takes the kids to school, because honestly it’s not even a good idea for me to be driving before 9. He would never ask me a question in the morning (this can trigger serious flare ups in the disease) and he doesn’t even try to make eye contact with me. He scratches my back and moves to the side when I’m walking around. Coffee helps a little and by 9:30 or 10:00 I can complete a sentence. But as the teenagers would say, ” the struggle is real.” I would take a pill for this disease if it would make me fully functional before 10 am. I don’t want to rub oils on my right pinky toe or drink apple cider vinegar with cayenne pepper in it to clear my head and give me energy at 8 in the morning. This is not the time to be alternative friends. (To my alternative friends and readers, I LOVE alternative and natural and such, please calm down, this is a joke). I want a PILL people. A pill. A pill. A pill.

Oops, I got distracted thinking about what it would look like if I took a pill and was instantly a morning person. It would have bad side effects though, because it would also wake up the monkeys in my head and they would start talking and I would have to tell the monkeys:

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Bless my heart, right? I do really hate being so out of it in the morning, but getting through it is worth it. I love my kiddos, I love my job, and I love the parts of my day where my brain works.

I am thankful for each day, just maybe not until around noon.

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*please remember this is just for fun, I know people have real diseases, I have a serious oh so serious one that I might write about one day. But for now just don’t ask me questions in the morning.

What the What?

Some have asked me in the last few weeks, “So what is your blog going to be about?”, “Is your blog going to have a focus?”, “Is your blog going to be random?”.

RANDOM! That is the winner!

It is a blog about my daily adventure with ADD, among other problems.

Some cannot handle random. I get it. You need a focus. You need a subject; something to contemplate, dissect, and apply to your life. You are probably the type that is living within your budget and have all your socks paired together and always take both earrings off at the same time. But that is not me.

I get distracted.

EASILY.

So easily that I often find myself with one earring in and the other out. Like what was so important on my mind that in the middle of taking my earrings out I couldn’t finish the task? The concerning part is that this happens often. I get in bed and find that I still have one earring in. I think, “really?”; all I had to do was move my hand to the other ear and take the other earring out. What came up in that two second time period?

I bought this for my office last month:

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I love it. But as you can see I havn’t framed it or hung it on the wall yet. I admire people who hang things on the wall. Such follow through required there. I won’t give up on trying to attain that. Although it does not come naturally I still want it.

Just in, my sister just sent me this pin:

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Oh dear, Cyndi just sent me this one:

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It’s a game we play. Sending pins back and forth. They are soooo funny!!

So back to the topic, which is to say that there is not a topic, for now anyways. But I have A LOT of voices in my head so tomorrow there might be a topic. But for now I’m hoping to merely entertain a few people with my ADD struggles. It’s funny. Life is serious, and hard; but my struggle to focus is funny.

And we all need funny. 

Seriously serious people, we need it.

I am not a “hipster”

I am not a hipster, nor do I aspire to be one. I have accepted lately that I am aging and I am not in tune with the younger terminology. I did, in fact, have to google “what is twerking” when I was a counselor of 9th and 10th graders at youth camp this summer. I also have recently been hearing the term hipster and have looked into the whole fuss about it. It appears I am not a “hipster” nor do I want to be one even if I was the right age or had the time to go thrift store shopping. I am white, which fits the definition, but I do not live in New York City, San Francisco, Chicago, or Boston, and I do not have a liberal arts degree. I guess I have been a little too busy lately keeping my kids alive, myself alive, my marriage in tack, my business running, and trying to love and help the poor and brokenhearted. All those things and also other things like: not just keeping my kids alive, but playing with them, loving them, disciplining them, helping them learn to read, and wiping their noses and their butts; and spending time calling the doctor, going to the doctor, do I want to be a doctor? NO! And I don’t want to be a hipster! Let me tell you why if you are still reading. Let’s define “hipster”:

Annoying people.

No, that is not the definition, sorry about that. Here is Wikipedia’s definition:

Hipster refers to a postmodern subculture of young, urban middle-class adults and older teenagers that first appeared in the 1990s and became particularly prominent in the 2010s,[1] being derived from earlier movements in the 1940s. The subculture is associated with indie music and alternative music, a varied non-mainstream fashion sensibility (including vintage and thrift store clothes), progressive or independent political views,[2][3] and alternative lifestyles. Hipsters are mostly white 18- to 34-year old people.

What the WHAT?!?! Let me decipher what that means to me. People who work hard to be open minded but are actually still closed minded like most people. And what does Urban dictionary say? Well, fascinating that you should ask, it says:

1. Hipsters are a subculture of men and women typically in their 20’s and 30’s that value independent thinking, counter-culture, progressive politics, an appreciation of art and indie-rock, creativity, intelligence, and witty banter. The greatest concentrations of hipsters can be found living in the Williamsburg, Wicker Park, and Mission District neighborhoods of major cosmopolitan centers such as New York, Chicago, and San Francisco respectively. Although “hipsterism” is really a state of mind,it is also often intertwined with distinct fashion sensibilities. Hipsters reject the culturally-ignorant attitudes of mainstream consumers, and are often be seen wearing vintage and thrift store inspired fashions, tight-fitting jeans, old-school sneakers, and sometimes thick rimmed glasses. Both hipster men and women sport similar androgynous hair styles that include combinations of messy shag cuts and asymmetric side-swept bangs. Such styles are often associated with the work of creative stylists at urban salons, and are usually too “edgy” for the culturally-sheltered mainstream consumer. The “effortless cool” urban bohemian look of a hipster is exemplified in Urban Outfitters and American Apparel ads which cater towards the hipster demographic. Despite misconceptions based on their aesthetic tastes, hipsters tend to be well educated and often have liberal arts degrees, or degrees in maths and sciences, which also require certain creative analytical thinking abilities.
4. Hipster: Someone who listens to bands you’ve never heard of, wears ironic tee-shirts, and believes they are better than you.

Why am I writing about this? let me go to the bathroom and then come back and tell you . . .

ADD and ADHD peeps, this is getting a little too long, you might need to go take a short break, fold the laundry, unload this dishwasher, scroll Pinterest, and then come back.

Okay, well, it’s true that I thought maybe I was cool because I really love Mumford and Sons and The Fray. I don’t know what cool is anymore and the great thing about growing up is you care less. I also care more about what my elders think, and less about what the “hipsters” or “independent thinkers” think. Any group that forfeits the opinion of their elders is historically doomed. I want to be around, and learn from anyone older than me. Anyone who has seen more, prayed more, heard more, survived more, cried more, worked harder, and solved more problems than I, I want to be in their “group”. We should work together people, to encourage one another. If you want to be in any group based on age, ethnicity, political preference, socioeconomic status, schooling choice, or clothing style, you are missing out. I am missing out. I am GUILTY, not of wanting to be a hipster, but of wanting to fit in to a group. We all want to be loved. That is what we all have in common. And I guess being accepted comes along with that. Let’s stop trying to be anything but loving, selfless, doers of good. Whether you listen to old southern gospel music or the newest indie group. God doesn’t care what you listen to, he cares what you do. And my guess is He doesn’t want you wasting your time trying to be a hipster.

*No skinny jeans were harmed in the making of this post. I heart you skinny jeans, the hipsters can’t own you.