...and so it begins

Or rather, should I say "and so it began"... as it really did begin over 20-some-odd years ago...

When I was little, my room was always a mess.  (Let's be honest, my room is still always a mess.)  But, nonetheless, when I was a kid, my parents would harass me to clean my room.  And try that I might, I really had no idea where to begin.  The thought of cleaning an ENTIRE room was (and is) way too overwhelming.

And then, through the course of nightly story books, I was introduced to "The Big Tidy-Up" by Norah Smaridge.  And, as it turns out, my obsession with said book might've saved me years of trouble had someone realized why I was obsessed with it.  (To give you a little bit of background, Smaridge's Golden Classic book follows Jennifer, a messy little girl who refuses to clean her room, but finally gets fed up and goes hog-wild with one big "tidy-up".)  Again, I was obsessed with this book.  It was the only way I could even fathom cleaning my room.  (I'm sure this was my mom's point in buying the book for me in the first place.)

But, alas, try that I may, I never really got much cleaning done with the help of the book.  I was pretty sure that "The Big Tidy-Up" was a 'how-to' book and if I just did everything that Jennifer did in the book, I would have a clean room in no time.  But my five-year-old mind, however, never really picked up on the fact that I, unlike Jennifer, did not have a 'shoe on the windowsill' to remove.  Nor would I be able to 'sweep' the dirt from my dusty-rose carpet with a broom.

And so, in a surefire bought of 'doing my best', my mom would give in and help me finish cleaning my room.  Until the next time... when it was time to see how Jennifer did it again.  Shoe on the windowsill?  Nope.  My room must be clean then!

***


I was at my parents' house not too long ago, looking through my memory trunk, when I came across that fictional how-to book.  It was barely intact.  The cover was completely gone and several pages were ripped.  It was then I realized just how debilitating undiagnosed ADHD can be (as I was not diagnosed until about a year ago - at age 28).  I wasn't some rebel little kid, not cleaning her room because she didn't want to...  I wanted to.  I just didn't know where to begin.  And when the book couldn't tell me what to do with the pile of clothes in the corner, but my windowsill was shoe-free, then I had done as much as I could do on my own.  And so the scenario repeated: Messy room.  Refer to book.  Have a slightly less-messy room.  Have mom help finish the rest.  Repeat.

I'm pretty sure everyone just thought I was a lazy, sloppy kid.


And now, a quarter of a century later, I find myself reaching for that book.  Because, sometimes, life needs a little 'tidying-up'.  And, sadly, I still do not know where to begin.  Shoes cleared from the proverbial windowsill?  Check.

***


It's been a little over a year since my diagnosis and I'm slowly-but-surely starting to get the hang of what it means to live with ADHD.  While it's definitely not a life-threatening condition, it certainly is a life-altering one.  There are so many things in my past that either were because of or in spite of the 'disorder' and I now wonder what my life would've been like had I known then what I know now.  And if I had not just 'known', but had been treated as well.


Not that I'm a huge advocate of medicine (more on that later, I'm sure), but like a diabetic will need insulin for the rest of his life, so will I need to take my meds daily as well.  And I do.  It's like I was trying to walk through a basement in the dark and someone turned the light on.  I've stopped bumping into things and can finally see where I am... (Although... I'm still not sure where I'm going)


A light is a start.


Maybe there are some "Big 'Life' Tidy-Up" books out there for adults like me.  Either way, it's a lot easier to read with a light on...