As an adult with attention deficit disorder (ADHD), I find it hard to gain control of my emotions when things don't go my way.
by Jane D.
I threw yet another temper tantrum today. Lately the emotions of being unemployed and living in ADHD-driven uncertainty have gotten the best of me.
I have tried to address the ongoing symptoms of attention deficit and continue to work on my makeshift rehab plan. But I’ve had enough of the bullshit and red tape from the Buddhaman’s practice. His secretary told me they called and faxed an emergency prescription a dozen times, but each time I called they were clueless: "Jane who? We didn't get anything for a Jane."
How frustrating. I decided to hell with it. I'm going to be shameless and call my friend, the 70-something-year-old MD who previously gave me a prescription for Adderall, to ask for help. Lately, that's been the theme of my life.
I’ve become good friends with the fellow ADHD woman I met in D.C. We've been keeping in touch by phone and swapping dating tales.
The other night I went out with a Middle Eastern guy, a scientist of some sort who spends his day studying specimens under a microscope. He had a heavy accent that I couldn't understand and my mind started drifting. He talked so fast he might as well have been speaking in his native Arabic. I kept saying, "pardon," and eventually gave up and focused on my nicoise salad and white wine. But he kept on chatting about God knows what.
I get depressed at times because I think that if I get bored, testy, and impulsive, I'm never going to get past second base with anyone. In the music industry there are one-hit wonders. In the ADD dating world I feel like a three-date wonder. Three strikes and I’m out.
Why are men interested in committing to all these other women and I continue to be that girl everyone just wants to take to dinner and sleep with. Is it ADD or is it me?
When I was in D.C., I purchased a timer. I can’t take it seriously though and find myself setting and resetting it. I feel as if the only thing that would get me truly moving is a timer with a bomb—someone or some thing to light the fire under me.
And this is why after more than six months I remain in layoff land. I can’t conduct a strategic job search. At times I want to tear out my hair and burst into tears. Who could love or even like someone like me? I wonder.