ADHD + learning disabilities

diagnosis: it’s not a label, it’s a bridge

• by kerri

Seven-plus months ago, I started what was an arduous journey. I’d known in myself that something was off for a long time with how I performed educationally. Until university, I didn’t have any exceptional struggles [unless we count that I could never master the multiplication tables, or that even being tutored through grade 9 math I still came out of there with a C]. Then university came. I’m sure I’ve probably dropped nearly as many classes as I’ve taken–I couldn’t get through the readings for the most part [and, let’s be honest, that C in intro psych could have probably been at least a B had I read any of the textbook!]. When anatomy came, I shrugged off the first F–especially after I found out how many people in med school fail anatomy. The second one? I’d put so many hours in. I’d spent countless hours with a tutor, I’d made a stack of flash cards, I’d coloured the colouring book, I wasn’t leaving labs early. I’d failed or near-failed tons of tests, yet by balancing them with papers, I was mostly rolling out C’s and B’s, with a few A’s thrown in in the classes that really gelled with my learning style, my interests, my quirks, and my academic gifts.

When I went through the educational assessment process last Winter, of course there’s all that associated doubt: I’ve gotten this far in school, why am I bothering with this now? They probably won’t even find anything helpful. But, the what-if’s kept me there.  While they were unable to diagnose or exclude ADHD in me, they did nail down a bunch of things: a bunch of things that had lead me to question my abilities at just about everything.

For me, a lot of it lies in my processing speed and working memory. I can’t say I believe in “normal” too much, but in psychology, everything is about deviations from the norm. My processing speed is definitely one of those–it’s only higher than 2% of females in my age group. It also means I’m probably more inattentive and distractible. My working memory deficits makes it more difficult for me to manipulate information in my head. And you know what? That’s nothing that I didn’t already know. It just gave me more knowledge about myself and how to work with what I have.

In the last several years though, I’ve worked with a lot of kids. I’ve worked with a lot of kids whose parents knew something was different and acted on it to help their kids be the best they can be. And I’ve known some kids whose parents chose the other route.  Are their children struggling more than they need to? Are they being denied access to proper supports, both socially and educationally? Is the fear of a diagnosis hindering the child when having more knowledge could be helping?

Diagnosis: it’s not a label, it’s a bridge. Learning about how I learn, about how I have what might be called a learning disability? It’s made all of my struggles make so much more sense. It didn’t start anything new, it just underscored what we know I’ve always excelled in or struggled with. It’s help me maximize on the things I’m good at. It let me know that I’ve struggled for legitimate reasons with a lot of things . . . and I’m not dumb and it’s not my fault.

I have new plans. I have support at school. I have resources that can help me with my outside-of-school life–because that requires a lot of organization that I don’t rock with, too. I have new determination that I can do this.

But I can only imagine how much more settled I would be, how much more successful I’d have been at certain things, if I’d had this knowledge earlier.

My perspective, and this goes especially to parents: if you suspect you or your child may be experiencing specific struggles involving learning, attention, development or socialization. . . do something. Diagnosis of a learning disability, ADHD or a developmental problem is NOT a bad thing. It doesn’t change who you are, it doesn’t change who your child is. It just helps in acquiring the right resources to maximize success, not only academically, but in creating friendships, cultivating creativity, and reducing stress or anxiety.

It doesn’t define me–it helps explain me.

life

finding the words

• by kerri

i try to speak but i cannot / words were harder than i thought / i tried to run to You but i’m stuck / and i can’t move / but i feel it in my veins / a change is taking place / breaking free the mould i’ve made / i’m starting to move . . .

love you back, addison road

I’ve been trying to find words to write, any words to write, for over a week now. I typically have no shortage of words, and yet, I am at a standstill.

So I write about having no words.

Writing, for me, has been as much therapy as anything. It’s a healing process in and of itself, it’s a healing process in reading back those words weeks, months, years later. It has been that kind of a process since I was nine years old. I write less so to write and more so to find something inside of it–inside of me–later on.  And when I feel like I have nothing to uncover–or nothing I really want to find inside myself–then I unfortunately shove it aside.

Yet, likely, in those moments, I need it then, too.

The stagnancy. The routine.

Things I do not like.

Maybe the words help me break free of that as well.

guest posts / health + fitness / life

“is there hope? i do believe there is” – james’ story on major depressive disorder

• by kerri

My friend James and I connected several years ago because of our asthma, and our desire to be physically active in spite of our lungs–we have also had some good talks on spirituality and religion and our past and current struggles within each. In the more recent past, James has been diagnosed with major depressive disorder, borderline personality disorder and autism, and has become a mental health advocate as part of his journey in healing. I am grateful to have him sharing the raw and real story of one recent experience in particular.

Today is Suicide Awareness Day. Coincidentally and unfortunately, James touches on this subject within his guest post. This post may be triggering if you are experiencing depression or thoughts of suicide. Please seek help immediately by visiting your local emergency room or by finding a suicide/crisis hotline in your area.

—–

When I think of an invisible illness, I think of people suffering from physical ailments. I think of those in severe pain or those having troubles taking a breath. I think of those illnesses that are so debilitating that a person has to rely on mobility devices. There are so many invisible illnesses out there and the incredible people who suffer through them, I just can’t begin to spotlight them in this post.

I can spotlight at least one that my wife suffers though, Psoriatic Arthritis. All I can say is this is an awful illness. On damp days my wife can’t get out of bed because it hurts to move. That is not even half of what that disease does to a person. Psoriasis takes over and makes a mess out of everything. My wife’s ears and forehead is over run by psoriasis. I feel bad for her because she feels so unattractive. I wish there was something I can do but there isn’t. In a way my wife’s illness is visible but the pain is not. She is a brave women and toughs it out everyday. This is just one of those incredible people out there.

I am not without a couple of chronic physical illness myself, asthma and Paget’s disease. However, I am not going to write about those diseases.

I am going to talk about an illness that is not physical. In some ways, it is not discussed much because the majority is afraid of it. Plus, from my observation, there is a stigma running rampant for those who just don’t understand. What is this illness? Depression.

See, I have clinical depression or being more technical, major depressive disorder. Yes, I know everyone has had some sort of bout with depression. What is the difference between clinical depression and the average depression most people feel? Usually, when some one is feeling depressed, they snap out of it in a few days, mostly because they are just sad about something. Clinical depression is nothing like that. I can only speak for myself on this, but the sadness is way more intense and it doesn’t leave my thoughts after a couple of days, sometimes not even a couple of weeks. Lately, to be honest, not even a couple of months.

I think to be diagnosed with major depressive disorder; a person has to have had multiple attempts at suicide. That is what I believe my doctor told me anyway. Yes folks, I have attempted numerous times to end my life. Thank goodness, failing in all attempts. I told a counselor once that I am so bad at suicide. I am just going to quite trying. She couldn’t help but snicker a tiny bit and told me my since of humor was still around.

Sadly, there has been a recent attempt. I thought maybe I would share that with you so you can get a real example of my life.

My personal life is a mess. To be honest, I am not sure anyone would come out unscathed from what I am dealing with. There was a blow-up at home that sent my mood spiraling downwards. I have been through quite a bit of therapy, so I have some idea how to combat major down turns in my mood. Unfortunately, this one caught me a tad off guard.

Exercise is a big part of my therapy. It really works to improve my mood. With that said, I started getting back into cycling. I used to love cycling when I was young. Even today, I love it a lot. So, by the third day, my mood had plummeted to dangerous levels. At this level, escape is a must. I decided to jump on the bike to ride off the sadness. Little did I know at the time, I was going to hurt myself.

I started riding mid afternoon on a roasting hot day. So hot that salt crystals formed on my skin surface. That normally does not happen when I ride. I had it in my mind that I was going to push it to the max, and I did. The whole time I didn’t realize that I was not taking care of myself. I should have calculated my water stops and electrolyte loading a tad better. What did I end up doing? I ended up riding myself into heat exhaustion. Worst part, I was out in the middle of no were with no shade or water. I was so disoriented that I missed my route turns and couldn’t use the map on my iPhone to save my life. So, I figured enough was enough. I found some shade from a row of corn and tried to get my bearings. I should have called my wife but the only thing I could think was calling 911, so that’s who I called.

I was transported to the emergency room and put through a full psychiatric evaluation. Actually, no big deal now days, I’ve been through it a few. I was a prospect for hospitalization but my doctor thought it was a bad idea. Therapy was going to be more effective for me and I wouldn’t get that at the hospital. The only thing the hospital could do for me is keep me safe.

On that note, if anyone is considering self-harm: Please seek help by going to an emergency room near you. They can really help you, even though you might feel that nothing can fix you. Been there and I got the help I needed, it works.

But I digress.

It is possible that the day in question was not really a suicide attempt, but in reality me disregarding all my training in warm weather. It was just too hot of a day and I was just asking to get sick. Yes, that is possible. Frankly, I have rode and walked in these conditions numerous times without much trouble. Plus, I was only 33 miles into a 50 mile ride. I did a 64 mile ride 6 days earlier. This ride should have gone off with little trouble. Like I said, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind and not doing what was needed to have a successful training ride.

To be brutally honest, I am not sure I am the kind of person that could put a noose around my neck. I have always tried things in hopes that death was the final outcome. Thankfully there still is a part of me that believes in self-preservation.

So, that is a taste of what it’s like to have clinical depression. Is there hope? I can’t answer that question all the time, but I do believe that there is. Unfortunately, this disorder is kept invisible by stigma and it is very hard to recovery in secrecy. I know all about that. No one knows I have this disorder, except manage at work and selective family members. Everyone around me would rather I keep my trap shut. So, not only is depression an invisible illness but for many of us, a forced one.

Maybe in the future through advocacy, we can stamp out stigma and make the world a better place to recover from mental illness. That is my hope anyway.

—–

Thank you, James, for sharing your story! I can say that you have opened my eyes with this post, and hope that those reading have gained a deeper understanding of what it is like to live with mental health problems and that, one step at at a time, we are helping to decrease the stigma around living with mental illness.

James is a cyclist and endurance walker who has completed several marathons. He lives with his wife and two boys, and in addition to work, is involved with a variety of communities on Twitter helping to support people living with mental illness, autism, asthma and Paget’s disease, and helping to educate those who don’t. James can be found on Twitter at @JamesofRC, and through his blog, Religiously Challenged.

advocacy / dare you to move / guest posts / health + fitness

living vertical: steve’s story

• by Awesome Guest Blogger

In 2012, Steve Richert and his wife Stefanie will embark on the adventure of a lifetime–three hundred and sixty five days of climbing with a goal of changing people’s perceptions of physical activity and being active with diabetes.  Diagnosed with type one when he was sixteen, I’m blessed to have Steve here today sharing his story of owning his diabetes through changing his perceptions, what he’s doing through climbing to educate and advocate for physical activity as an integral part of diabetes management, and what he’s going to be up to in 2012.

—–

When I woke up in a hospital bed 13 years ago and was told “You have Type 1 diabetes” I had no way of knowing how much it would change my life. Today, this condition I live with has shaped who I am and has caused me to reach greater heights (literally!) than I may have otherwise.

My first reaction to my diagnosis was that I determined to find a way to beat it. I couldn’t stand the idea of being dependent on medicine or hospitals. I wanted to be free—and the fact that the doctors all told me that there was no cure, made me decide that I had to simply find a loophole.

To start with, I decided that I would prioritize my health above everything else. As a 16 year old, that meant explaining my strict diet to other kids in the lunch room and checking my blood sugar before (and during) soccer games, always carrying food in case my sugar dropped low and not getting to treat eating as a recreational activity. Diabetes forces you to redefine your relationship with food—or lose your eyesight, your limbs, your kidneys and circulatory system—so there is a lot at stake!

Fitness became a big part of my life because the insulin injections that I took would work more effectively when I was active—playing sports and working out basically became medicine for me—both to help my body use the insulin I took and also as a means to combat stress. As I grew older and made it through college, the mental aspect of diabetes began to impact me—or at least to the point that I suddenly became aware of it.

Having a chronic illness carries with it some sort of routine that you must adhere to in order to stay well—and while this monotony can allow you a measure of success in dealing with the disease, it causes you to become tired mentally. Depressed. Bored. Hopeless.

I was staying healthy by just eating well and going to the gym, but I knew that I needed to escape the routine if I was going to progress—and that is when I found climbing. I had tried climbing when I was in high school as part of a Phys Ed unit. It initially appealed to me but I didn’t really know how to get into it. So I let it be. Once I revisited the sport after college, it became both a physical activity and mental stimulant. Climbing became my means to explore the world outside my comfort zone: my gateway to the unknown.

I followed the path that my passion led me down and I began learning how to teach others to climb and in 2009 I began working as a climbing guide. I get great enjoyment from being able to teach people to climb and showing them that they CAN do it. Taking something that seems impossible and making it possible is the magic of climbing. Some of the richest experiences I have had climbing have come from situations that held an unknown—that became a success only after the fact.

When I tell people what I do to stay healthy, they frequently smile and shake their head: “That’s fine for you, but I can’t do enough pull ups” or “I am terrified of heights—I could never do that”. Those are the people that I MOST want to take climbing, because turning that can’t into just did is a life-changing experience—and I want others to experience the power of the natural world like I have—through challenging themselves!

Recently, this exact initiative has been my focus. I decided that since I can’t bring people to the mountains, I can bring the mountains to the people—through film. Starting on January 1st 2012, my wife Stefanie and I will begin 365 days of climbing across North America, which we will be filming to make an in depth adventure documentary that will bring you into the high and wild places that we will be climbing! We are selling all of our possessions that won’t fit into our little red hatchback and setting off on a grand adventure. We want everyone to follow along. We will be blogging at www.livingvertical.org where you can keep up with our adventures and support our film if you would like to be part of what we are doing.

My goal at 16 was to overcome diabetes. 13 years later, I still have to take insulin injections 5-10 times daily. I still have to stick my finger 4-6 times a day. There still is no cure. But diabetes has forced me to problem solve, forced me to raise the bar and step up and out of my comfort zone and given me life experience that a pharmaceutical cure would have stolen from me! I consider myself blessed to have the opportunity to take on this challenge and I look forward to sharing my successes, struggles, failures and mountain-top experiences with you all during 2012!

—

Steve is the founder of Living Vertical as well as a climbing instructor.  In 2012, he and his wife Stefanie will be picking up their lives and heading out on the road to spend the year climbing and spreading the message that yes, you CAN do this!  LivingVertical is a non-profit organization that uses climbing and organic nutrition to empower and improve the lives of people living with type 1 diabetes.  To help Steve and Stefaine reach their goal, please consider donating to their project here (all kinds of cool incentives, too!), or contributing through donations of supplies they may need along the way, specifically climbing equipment, snacks and OneTouch blood glucose test strips–gotta keep our friends safe and healthy on the road!

As Steve’s mantra says . . . “Why wait for the ‘cure’?”  What are YOU doing to stay active and healthy with chronic disease and own it — not tomorrow, not next week, but today? Want to share your story?  E-mail me and join the journey.
asthma / badassmatics / health + fitness

knowing when to step back: i could use a little break.

• by kerri

Along with knowing how hard you can push yourself, there’s also that fine line of knowing when to step back.

Throw chronic disease in the mix, and that line blurs even more.

For me, it’s evident that I don’t exercise when I’m not breathing at 80+% of my best peak flow [aka in my yellow zone]. Especially right now when I’m not even doing anything and am breathing in my yellow zone. Something earlier compelled me to attempt some push-ups. Because I’m a genius. Three of them and I was on the floor, and not in push-up fashion [granted right now I am doing modified push ups. But that is 1) better than no push ups and 2) another story for another day].

Oh right, and the whole mom quote of the day saying “Yeah, you don’t sound healthy when you cough.” Thanks, Mom. Thanks. [That said, I have a normal, baseline cough. It is not as brutal sounding or feeling as this sick cough is. Sick cough you can totally tell there’s rattly gross junk in there.

And it sucks. I’ve essentially gone from almost 30K last week to zero, which will remain zero unless I get better. I threw some bicep curls in tonight while printing an assignment because really, 3 x 10 with five-pounders = not terribly taxing on the lungs and at least I did something a little good. YES, if I’m just flaring mildly, I often do throw a workout in there. I probably shouldn’t but I do. I catch a cold though, and everything gets put on hold, because my lungs don’t take that well.

That’s what’s brutal. That I may actually end up backtracking having to take a week [or more] off of working out. I’m averaging about six hours of physical activity per week, probably about four or so of those in actual workouts, and the rest in commutes and stuff. I’m 21 kilometers behind where I was in October for November, which is something I definitely would have caught up with this week if I wasn’t sick. Thank goodness i’m not training for anything [training? What’s that?]

It’s brutal when I was so excited to tell my doctor on Thursday that I’m doing fantastic and exercising for like four hours a week and so on. And now I get to go in and tell her I’m burnt out on the asthma shit and can we please get me in and out as quickly as possible so I can go on with my life outside of my currently screwed up lungs.

Oh, Mom and Grandma, if you’re reading this, consider this your disclaimer on the fact that I’m about to give asthma The Finger in this picture and drop an f-bomb in the next paragraph:

Last night, today, THIS is how asthma makes me feel. Pissed off and exhausted and angry. Fuck asthma. Screw the nebs and the inhalers, the jitteriness, the coughing, and the not being able to clear this shit out of my lungs. I’m waking up several times a night, and have done so multiple nights this week, and then I have to be awake and think about how while this flare and this cold are temporary, this disease is forever. And how I will have to do this again at some point after I get better. And that’s something that’s hard to think about. It’s much easier to deal with when I feel okay and I can just not have to deal with thinking about it until I get sick or flare again. I realize I have no idea how I went through months at a time of feeling like shit without a burnout. I have no idea. The intensity of it increases and decreases, but this intensity is what some of my friends with asthma face every single day and then some [also, to break the seriousness for a moment here, totally starting a giving asthma the finger project over here on Facebook. Because it’s therapeutic].

Last night I was burning out on the asthma stuff hardcore; it was honestly the lowest I’ve felt in years about something in my own life. Today I started out rough but have been trying to step back in a different way; push it out of my head, focus on one doubled-over coughing spasm at a time, one inhaler or neb at a time, one breath at a time.

Yeah, I need a break from this. That’s not going to happen, and I’ve accepted that. I know I will get better from this, but I also know that it will happen again. Because you can never let your guard down — you can’t just stop the inhalers, the doctor’s appointments, the germs, the nebs, the medication-induced jitteriness and tachycardia, the frequent hand-washing, the thoughts of every little step involved in taking care of yourself. And you know what, this is my reality. Nobody gave me a choice in the matter of having to share my body with asthma, but I do have the choice in how I perceive it [own it] and how I fight it with every last thing I’ve got.

And if I can have even just one more little piece of control in this that is in my control and doesn’t come off of a prescription printout, I want that. I want to throw all the fight I have into this disease — not just for me, but for everybody. And being able to share that with everybody–that your healing, inside and out, your body and your heart, doesn’t have to come from a pharmacy. That little piece is a big piece of my life: exercise.

But for now, it’s nebs and Watch The Sky on repeat.

Trying to remind myself that: even if today was a good day wasn’t true for today, it can be true for tomorrow.

i’m lost at sea. the radio is jammin’ but they won’t find me. i swear it’s for the best, and then your frequency is pulling me in closer until i’m home. and i’ve been up for days, i finally lost my mind and then i lost my way, i’m blistered but i’m better, and i’m home

i will crawl, there’s things that aren’t worth giving up, i know. but i won’t let this get me, i will fight. you live the life you’re given with the storms outside — some days all i do is watch the sky.

this room’s too small, it’s only getting smaller, i’m against the wall. and slowly getting taller here in wonderland, this guilt feels so familiar and i’m home

i will crawl. there’s things that aren’t worth giving up, i know. but i won’t let this get me, i will fight. you live the life you’re given with the storms outside — some days all i do is watch the sky. some days all i do is watch the sky

i think i, i could use a little break. today was a good day. i think i, i could use a little break. but today was a good day. and it’s a deep sea in which i’m floating, still i seem to think that i must crawl. there’s things that aren’t worth giving up i know, when you can’t bear to carry me, i’ll fight. you live the life you’re given with the storms outside. some days all i do is watch the sky. today was a good day. today was a good day.

watch the sky, something corporate