Читать книгу The Hummingbird Effect - Mitzi MacBain - Страница 4

I was born Cynthia Louise Bain at 12:06AM on June 3, 1963. My family of origin consisted of 2 older sisters and an older brother. My father was in the military and my mother was a kind person with very unkind health. She had Rheumatic Fever as a child and it left her with a small hole in her heart. As she got older and starting having children, I was the 4th, it got worse.

She was scheduled for open heart surgery in April 1965. She spent the month prior staying with my grandparents taking a special medication to dissolve some blood clots that had begun forming. They thought they had gotten them all before her surgery on the morning of April 22, but they were wrong. She survived the surgery but a clot got her anyway. I always remember the anniversary of her death as it is now World Day.

I had no way of knowing at the time but that would be the end of any parental love for me. My father, who was never a warm and fuzzy person to begin with, got lost in alcohol after my mother died. I truly believe he never got over the loss of his own parents as a young child. His father died when he was 2 of a brain aneurysm and his mother committed suicide when he was 4. I believe the death of my mother, whom he loved dearly, was the end of any kindness to be found. I believe when my mother died, he went to a place deep inside of himself and just never came back. He remarried when I was 4. My step-mother wasn’t warm and fuzzy either so they were the perfect match.

She liked me as a small child. I assume that because she never yelled at me before the age of 11. My first memory of her is being 4 years old and sitting down in the basement of our house doing a puzzle by myself. I also remember dragging a kitchen chair to the cupboard to get cereal for breakfast. For the life of me, I have no idea why my stepmother didn’t fix me breakfast in my childhood. I always fixed my own breakfast. I can’t tell you how many strawberry pop tarts I ate on weekends watching cartoons. I actually don’t remember interacting with my stepmother except for meal times. Even up through grade school, I remember coming home from school and fixing myself a snack, usually graham crackers with peanut butter, and just entertaining myself. I never saw her. I have no memory of either my father or step-mother ever asking me about my school day or anything else for that matter.

I have to admit I was fortunate though. My early childhood memories, ages 5-10, I had my friends. In fact, I spent all my time with my friends. My friends loved me. I had my first boyfriend when I was 10. I will never forget Michael T. He was so cute and he came up to chest. I am grateful for those early years. I may not have had parental love but I had love. I did get to play and I was free. I didn’t have any parenting but I also didn’t have any overt abuse.

As far as ADHD, I remember absolutely never sitting still. I have no memory in those early years of ever sitting and reading a book. I truly never stopped. I also remember many times waking up early, being wide awake at night, and overeating. I always assumed my overeating was a lack of parenting. I loved sweets and no one ever told me to stop eating. My love affair with Alka-Seltzer began when I was about 7 years old. I remember many nights making the long walk down to my father and stepmother’s bedroom because of a belly ache (my bedroom was at one end of the ranch house and they were at the other). To this day when I am sick, I want Alka-Seltzer.

I also remember always having very poor handwriting which can sometimes be an indicator of ADHD. I was also a bit aggressive at times. I remember at age 4 telling my first best friend Deirdre H. that if she didn’t give me food, I wouldn’t play with her. Who says that? I wasn’t starved as a child. I remember at 8 and 9 years old my friend Laurie M. and I would chase the boys on the playground, sometimes holding them down and kissing them. That truly seems not right to me now. I was not sexually abused as a small child so I believe that excessive energy was my young motor that never stopped. It is documented that children with ADHD can sometimes struggle with boundaries. I have always been a hands on kind of person. I always had to be doing something with my hands. I used to think I was just caring. Now I believe I truly didn’t understand boundaries.

Now unfortunately my childhood came to a screeching halt at age 11. My stepmother had my younger half brother, I started my cycle, sexual abuse began with my father, and my slave days with my stepmother began. And the icing on the cake was my stepmother basically handing over the responsibility of my half brother to me. Plus she knew on some level what my father was doing so she started raging at me almost daily. I truly believe she was so emotionally/financially dependent on my father that she had to vent her rage at me. I also believe that from that point on she saw me as the other woman. She never saw me as a child again.

So here I am, just a child, and the world I knew was over. My father broke my heart and my stepmother just stomped on it and crushed it to pieces. I truly believe I survived with the help of 3 things; enormous quantities of sugar from the time I got up until the time I went to bed, television whenever I could sneak it in, and creating a rich fantasy life. I used to think about the life I would have had if my mother had lived. I would have done sports, taken music lessons, had lots of friends, spent time as a family with my siblings, etc. I call 11-18 my survival years. It was just non stop misery. Between taking care of my brother, daily lists of chores on yellow lined paper (to this day I hate yellow lined paper), trying to avoid my father, and somehow getting school work done, I just survived.

There is a myth that if a person gets through school with decent grades they couldn’t have ADHD. That is totally false. I made it through school with passable grades. However I remember absolutely NOTHING I learned in the 12 years I attended public schools. That is no joke. Four years of French - notta thing. I couldn’t do a basic algebra problem if my life depended on it. I only read 1 entire book for a paper my sophomore year. It was a research paper on Virginia Woolf. Thank goodness the book was easy to read. I was fascinated with her because she committed suicide in her 30’s by putting 2 bricks in her pockets and walking into a river and drowning herself. The first year I passed the paper in I got a B. My junior year, I passed in the same paper and got a C. My senior year, I passed it in and got an F. It makes sense as I had the same English teacher all 3 years!

I ate enormous amounts of sugar all the time to cope. Thank goodness I had access to sugar. It was my lifesaver. Every year felt worse than the last. Nothing changed. Chores, babysitting, somehow getting school work done, and some escapage. I credit my surviving high school to my best friend at the time Sue Kane (now Sue Monahan). She was a year ahead of me and was there for me my freshman through junior year. I truly believe without her support and her family I would have committed suicide. We reconnected a few months ago after not seeing each other for over 20 years and it clicked just how much I enjoyed her company. Sue has a gentle and kind nature. Now I understand how I made it through those last 4 years of prison and why I loved spending so much time with her.

I find it interesting that all the years I have spent in therapy (many, many, many years), I never addressed the worse abuse of all. I always thought the sexual abuse and the daily verbal lashings from my stepmother were the worst. Now that I am centered and rooted in a deeply calm place, I realize the worst pain was something I couldn’t even acknowledge until now. I wasn’t strong enough. Now I realize I am strong enough to face it and I want to let it go.

For the last 7 years of my childhood, I was completely alone. My father and stepmother either completely ignored me or abused me (stepmother daily screaming/cruelty or father wanting something sexual). I learned to be as invisible as possible. If they didn’t acknowledge me then they wouldn’t abuse me. As I look back on that survival thinking, I realize “ Wow I can’t believe I went through that.” The other piece of the puzzle is the fact that I feared for my life. My stepmother’s rage was so intense that if she could have killed me and gotten away with it she would have. I believe that with every fiber of my being. She absolutely terrified me. My father’s hatred was a little more covert. I remember stumbling across these True Detective magazines my father always brought home when I was about 11 years old. They had pictures of dead women strangled or tortured. It was really shocking the first time I looked at them. All I remember thinking is “My father likes to look at pictures of dead women. He must hate women.” I always had in the back of my mind my father was capable of killing me. I truly believed that. Between the two of them, I ALWAYS had my guard up. Intense fear and anxiety were roommates in my psyche until my diagnosis/medication and then I kicked them to the curb :)

When I think about the child that I was, being ignored day in and day out, my heart just breaks for her. To sit at the dinner table night after night for 7 years and NO ONE talked to me. I spent 7 years with no one ever connecting with me. How do you ignore a child day after day? That has to be the cruelest thing you can truly do to a child. I can’t even connect with the level of agony that caused because it is just too much. I reverted to fantasyland to cope. I think to a child having one parent hate you is bad enough but there was no way I could have handled having both of my parents hating me. In my mind my father loved me. He had to. I created an illusion to survive.

I think now of the two children I spent time with weekly. I do 4 hours of childcare for 8 year old Riley and 4 year old Keegan. They are the sweetest little souls I have ever met, kind, gentle and loving. When I am with them those 4 hours, they talk my ear off :) I listen and respond and give all I have. To think that is just 4 hours out of one week.

It really puts in perspective why it is so important to meet a child’s needs; they are immediate and urgent for a reason. Children don’t have a true perception of time. Whether it is waiting 5 minutes, 30 minutes or FOREVER; it is all painful to a child. I think the recovery process from the pain is quicker depending on how long the child had to wait.

I have had my own pet sitting business for many years. Dogs remind me of children. They will sit and wag their tail until you acknowledge them. If you don’t acknowledge a dog, it will just stay frozen in motion trying to get your attention. They can’t focus on anything else until you acknowledge them. I realize now that children are a lot like dogs. To make a child wait and wait and wait and never meet their needs is inhumane. Everything is so urgent to children not unlike dogs.

It definitely makes sense why I have always struggled to wait for ANYTHING!! For me waiting = pain. And now that I am on medication and feel a true sense of self love I can let this deep pain go. I don’t need to carry it any longer. It wasn’t that I didn’t deserve to be loved and acknowledged on a daily basis. It was the fact that neither my father or step-mother had the capacity to love. Looking at my life and looking at their lives, I truly believe they both suffered from dopamine/serotonin deficiency. Their diet was full of sugar, caffeine, nicotine, alcohol, always working, flying off the handle at any given moment, always spending money, etc. Now that I look back I can see they really weren’t comfortable in their own skin and they definitely had the emotional age of a young child. Real adults do not abuse children…period.

So skipping forward, I escaped with 4 garbage bags to my name 6 months after I graduated from high school. I was so fortunate to have gotten a job at L.L. Bean. It really saved my life. My senior year was so unbearable; I was drinking whiskey, smoking pot, taking speed, and binging on a daily basis. When I got the job at Bean’s, I immediately gave up all drugs and whiskey. The only thing I held onto was SUGAR. Thank Goodness it is legal :)

My years at Bean’s were a struggle. I was out of control with sugar/binging, full of rage, flying around like a squirrel looking for nuts just before winter strikes, shutdown, and just struggling to get by. I worked in the Accounting Department. I handled check depositing and then moved into making bank deposits from the retail store sales. That was my favorite job at Bean’s. I loved handling lots of money! Ironic though now to think I had a sit down job all those years with undiagnosed Adult ADHD-Hyperactive/Impulsive Type. Sitting still was almost impossible. I was always jumping up to go the bathroom, get a snack, chat with other coworkers, etc. I somehow made it through until I was 26 and then decided I needed to leave. I had been there 8 years and I was bored.

Now from then until recently, I really had no concept of the future. I always lived in the moment, spontaneous and just did what I wanted. I never saved money. If I had money, I spent it. It never even crossed my mind to save for my future. My impulsivity was severe. I always thought I lived chronically in debt because of the severe deprivation I suffered as a child. I supported myself from age 14 on. The only thing I got from 14 to 18 from my father and stepmother was food, a bed, and 1 gift at my birthday and Christmas. I paid for all my clothes, all my necessities, my own car, graduation pictures, etc. I will never forget my senior year in high school. My step-mother asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I said a jacket from L.L. Bean. Christmas morning when everyone was opening presents under the tree, she told me my gift was over by the living room door. I looked over and it was my jacket still in the bag with receipt unwrapped. That was such a powerful punch to the gut. I was so unimportant she couldn’t even bother to wrap my gift and because it was not under the tree I got the message loud and clear I was not wanted there. There really are endless ways to be cruel to a child.

I think for the past 30 years of adulthood I just figured I was owed. I had a huge void and I tried to fill it with things. To think I lived 30 years of adulthood with debt really stuns me now. I had this realization a few years ago. A child who grows up with consistent love and support leaves home at 18 with an emotional bank of $100,000. Their parents deposited love in their bank every day by loving their child. That child now has that security as they enter adulthood and know if they struggle or stumble they have that security bank to draw from at anytime.

Now someone like me who grows up without love, support, security, not only has nothing in the bank when they leave home at 18, but are actually emotionally in debt $100,000. That is how I felt when I finally escaped. Not just empty but because I had to put my father and stepmother’s needs above my own, I was in the red big time. It makes sense to me that leaving home feeling emotionally in debt by $100,000 that I would continue to live in adulthood severely in debt in all areas of my life; emotionally, physically, spiritually and financially.

Now 8 months post my diagnosis of ADHD-Hyperactive/Impulsive Type, and being treated with medication, I don’t think that is the whole answer. Now that my dopamine/serotonin levels are normalized, I don’t crave to have excessive things anymore.

I don’t feel the need to spend money I don’t have all the time. I still occasionally will spend money when it is tight but there is a lot more thinking involved now. I think I may have mistaken the bottomless pit of emptiness with extremely low dopamine/serotonin levels. Now that I feel full daily, I just don’t focus on things to fill me up like I used to i.e. excessive food, excessive spending, excessive working. Also the things that felt out of my control i.e. excessive ruminating about the past, excessive chronic fatigue, excessive over re-activeness including lashing out at people, getting rageful, etc., have just dissipated. I still occasionally think about the past, get upset, but nothing like before. That to me feels like such a gift.

Now work wise, I left Beans in 1989 and proceeded to have 7 more jobs until I started my own pet sitting business in 1999. I did it very part-time for over 2 years as I was too scared to let go of the security of my full-time job. I would attribute 7 jobs in 10 years to my ADHD. I realize now that acting on impulse on a chronic level is just exhausting.

I figured out recently that making a snap decision about a relationship, a job, or a situation, is like basing that decision on a snapshot. To me a relationship, a job or a situation is more like a movie. Making a decision on a snapshot is like forgetting the movie. No one person, job or situation is a snapshot. I can’t tell you how many relationships, friendships, jobs, etc., I left because something would happen and I would overreact and just leave. I would completely forget the bigger picture. I would be so overwhelmed in the moment that the discomfort was unbearable. To me the only answer was to just leave. That seemed like the quickest way to alleviate the problem. Now I realize that an adult would temporarily leave the situation and reevaluate. Things like friendships, relationships, and work are a huge part of our lives and not to be taken lightly. I certainly didn’t mean to take them lightly and in fact I didn’t think I was, but overreacting and lashing out is childish. Children do that. Adults give themselves timeouts.

Most of my symptoms of ADHD were childlike, in my opinion: Acting on impulsive with eating, spending, decision making, etc., not following through on things in my personal life and at work, being nice one minute and snappy and angry the next, feeling scared and overwhelmed most of the time, anxious with people, even ones I knew, not wanting to be disciplined in my personal life or at work, or held accountable for my actions, continuous ruminating about past grievances, just not able to let go, wanting to dominate or control any situation or relationship, and just this overwhelming need to race through everything I did. It’s like I was always in a race, but have no idea when it started or why the heck everything I did had to be done quickly. I ate quickly, I talked quickly, I walked quickly, I did my work quickly, I drove quickly, etc. I was definitely not born with a SLOW button, for sure!

One of the biggest freedoms for me now is not reacting in the moment to anyone. Because I feel centered if something happens or a person does something that I don’t appreciate, I immediately step back and review the situation. There was no reviewing process in the past. Now I have a giant Pause Button that allows me to not lash out or make snap decisions. I also now do not respond back to ANYONE in anger or rage. I had no idea that in the past when I did that, I was giving away my power. I like having my power now and have no intention of ever giving it away again to anyone or any situation. I am so grateful to longer be a snapshot person :)

Mentally/emotionally and physically, I went to my first 12 step meeting at age 19, started psychotherapy at 20, saw my first psychiatrist/started antidepressants at age 23. I remember when I started antidepressants back in 1986. Depression back then had such a stigma. You didn’t talk about it. It was hush hush. I felt such deep shame about taking medication and always thought if I just worked hard enough in therapy I would eventually not need medication. I had no concept at that time or for many years later that depression was a disorder of the brain and might be something I will always need medication for.

I may have been diagnosed with Severe ADHD-Hyperactive/Impulsive Type and Major Depression but with the aid of medication, vitamins, minerals, fish oil, amino acids, diet, exercise, and most recently adding Neurotherapy, I feel great!

All the chronic symptoms I have lived with have dissipated and/or been relieved to the point I barely notice. Freedom from symptoms is so much more than what I ever could have imagined because I just don’t have to focus on it anymore. I now have more time visualizing my future and where I want to go, the things I want to do, and accomplish and nurture my relationships with the people around me that matter in my life.

I truly believe when you are so busy surviving, you can’t truly focus forward past your own feet. I wasted so much energy. I have always had the analogy that I have been treading water since I was 13 and decided I would commit suicide when it got the point where I could no longer bear living. I realize now 36 years later I accidentally held myself hostage. Making that decision to stop living was so deeply rooted in me. I did just enough to get by. But at the same time, I had very little energy, was extremely sad, frustrated and felt trapped in my life. Those feelings never truly changed even after 30 years of working on myself. Without normalized dopamine/serotonin levels, I never stood a chance to regain my footing without getting chemically treated with Ritalin and then fully healing with all the supplements I added to my daily routine and with the addition of Neurotherapy.

As far as relationships, I had my first boyfriend at 19. He was such a great first boyfriend. He was funny and doting. He always bought me flowers and wrote me cards. I think that was healing for me as for the first time in my life I had a male figure wanting to spend time with me and wanting to give to me. We stayed together for 2½ years. My next relationship lasted for a year. He also was a sweetheart. A good person who wanted to settle down and have children. I knew that was something I wasn’t capable of. Never mind the fact that I took care of a child from 11-18 there was no way I wanted the responsibility again of a child. I remember when we broke up, he cried. I was so deeply touched by that. In fact, I felt so bad that I didn’t get into another relationship for 12 years. Not just because of the pain I caused but because being in a relationship meant being sexual and I binged even more intensely when I had to be sexual. I spent a TON of time in therapy trying to heal that. What hard work!! Sexual abuse sucks!!

From 23 to 35, I had a few one night stands, a few six date relationships, a few couple months relationships, but that was about it. Definitely a lot of impulsiveness just jumping into relationships with men. Now that I look at them, they weren’t relationships, but in my mind they were. I really had to work hard to get past my deep rooted rage towards my father. The poor guys I took that out on. I remember one guy, OMG, he was so kind!! The nicer he was to me the angrier I got. In fact, I broke up with him because he was too sweet. That is so unbelievable to me now. But I had too many levels of rage/pain to work through before I would be able to appreciate a “nice guy.”

The other piece of the puzzle for me has been chronic fear/anxiety. I know for sure it started when I was 11 when my childhood ended and I truly believed I was never safe in that house anymore. If it was there before that, I just don’t remember. I was little and I was so busy with my friends before that there probably wasn’t any time to even think about it.

All through my life, I have left friendships. I always believed I did that because my mother died when I was 2 and I was incapable of making lasting bonds with people. I also believed it was because of the lack of bonding growing up.

But today, I just don’t believe that. I think it was both those experiences AND the low levels of dopamine/serotonin that made it so hard to truly love and want to attach to people in a healthy way. I also think my energy overall was desperate. The desperateness was so deep that I had no way of knowing what it truly was. As I sit here now post diagnosis and 8 months into my new life, I think I feel a level of contentment which matches my level of desperateness before. I feel an overall fullness in my body. Before there was such a bottomless pit of emptiness. No matter what I did I could not fill it. What a horrible maddening way to live.