My wife and I watched a movie last night – “Joe Bell” – that blew me up. I’ve been teetering emotionally for a while, but Joe Bell broke me. I needed to pause the movie for a while because I needed a mental health break for a little while. I cried, a lot, which isn’t unusual, but this time it tore a gaping hole in my defenses. And when I was out this morning walking the dogs, I came home and broke down, hard.
There’s a lot of underlying emotions and thoughts of course; it wasn’t the movie itself. But it was the push over the edge of the waterfall I’ve tried so long to avoid.
This morning I was lucky enough to summon the self-awareness to be breaking down, feeling, and know what I needed to do to stay in the safe zone. I breathed into a bag; I ate something. I made tea. I cried. And I found some pencils and sketched a daisy. And I admitted to myself that I wasn’t in control. I admitted that I’m vulnerable.
When it comes to sketching, I’m not great. But I don’t care; I draw because I want to. It’s for me. In this case I was aware that I needed to stay in the present, and drawing helped me to not disassociate.
I posted it to Twitter with a note about my mental state and a couple of my Twitter pals responded with some support – and that was greatly appreciated.
So here I am today, building this blog, writing whilst I sit in my child’s room that they graciously let me occupy. It’s quiet, I have my tea, some chips, and the room is full of the familiar clutter only a fellow ADHDer can appreciate. Also it has an Echo – and I had K.D. Lang’s version of Hallelujah on repeat. Over and over it played while I wrote, and I cried, and I let the tears stream down my face.
It’s been a very raw day. Thoughts of my children, feelings for all the traumas they’re enduring, thankfulness for Chloe telling me to fill out the ADHD self-assessment last year. There’s at least four of us in the household. I’ve been thinking about my brother Mark, who I now understand clearly had profound ADHD. And my brother Brian, who passed away seven weeks ago. And my brother Dale. It’s just the two of us left. Brian’s passing has very deeply affected him, more than he says, and we talk quite a bit.
So while I’m trying to process my own emotions and traumas, I know full well that my entire family is also doing the same thing. I love you all and we’re all in this together.
I’ll end this with a tweet I saw tonight, which I think can’t be said any clearer:
I’m many ways, the #trauma that I’ve experienced in life broken me, however in recovering from trauma, I have found strength.
— NeuroDivergent Rebel (they/them/Xe/Xem) 🧠 🏳️🌈 (@NeuroRebel) October 25, 2021