What it Feels Like, Part Two

Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). I forgot about that one in the first post...I wonder why? Oh, yeah, that's right. I'm ADD.
Here's an important distinction: I have attention deficit disorder, not attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, ADHD. That's why I wasn't diagnosed until I came to my psychiatrist's office after the first semester at Virginia Tech in tears. I was studying 4 hours a night. Typing out all of my notes. And failing miserably. I felt stupid.
My doctor gave me a pretty simple set of questions. He asked me to remember three words. Then, he asked me to count backwards from 100 by 3's. Yeah, right. I got to 91. And then could remember one of the three words. Once medicated, I rarely made a B in college. It was like someone turned off all of the background noise in my head.
For me, ADD is nothing more than a pain in the ass. I stopped taking the medication in graduate school. I think I chose journalism because it takes little to no long-term concentration. One story takes a week or so, and then it's on to something new.
I do struggle with long conversations, and meetings. Last week Jasen and I met with our financial planner. He's ADD, too. I found myself staring at the pictures on his wall, then snapping myself back into the conversation.
I have to make lists to remember anything. Then I have to make reminder notes about the lists.
If I am trying to concentrate on a task, such as writing right now, it drives me absolutely bonkers when someone interrupts me. Like Juni 5 minutes ago because he broke his Lego truck. Or Jasen 30 seconds ago because he can't find the chicken stock. Seriously frustrating.
ADD is more of an annoyance than an issue at this point in my life, which is while I don't take medicine. Another reason I don't take the meds for this particular disorder is because they are stimulative, which is something that does nothing but fuel my anxiety disorder.
I'd write part three, anxiety, if I could pay attention any longer. Or if Juni could rebuild the truck on his own. Or if Jasen could actually open the cupboard door and look in front of his nose for the chicken stock. Unfortunately, none of those things are going to happen...