… because I’m pretty sure you haven’t been answering my prayers. Quick question — why didn’t you tell me I had ADD until just now? If you were that busy, could you have told someone else to tell me? ‘Cause here’s the deal: for almost four decades, I thought my head space was merely the result of the complete lack of love in the family. I’ve honed coping mechanisms and chased stuff I thought were keeping me even keel to compensate for that void. Somehow, I’ve managed to piss off practically every single person I’ve ever met because of my big mouth. I’ve kept friends that enabled my behavior but didn’t enhance my life. I’m surrounded by the massive clutter of half-finished projects that looked so promising when I first conjured them up. I do admit, I’ve always had pretty great sex and embarked on some crazy adventures, like that fetish party in Malibu and spending all my money traveling on a whim, so that’s cool. But you know what? Because I was literally out of my mind, I lost the love my life, a woman who was my best friend. I wanted to marry her. Now she doesn’t want anything to do with me. IT”S NOT MY FAULT!
All because I was blessed with a special blend of ADD. Mixed in with a family support system that expressed very little love. I feel fucked in the ADD.
So now, I have to start all over again and re-learn my social skills and basic approach to life. It’s a bummer.
As you know, I pay someone to listen to me once a week, because normal people have little idea what I’m going on about most of the time. It really sucks to only be able to talk to a confidante for forty five minutes a week.
Please don’t give me that crap about “it’s all part of the journey,” mister. It hasn’t been a journey. It’s been a damn endless spiral. I’ve been chasing everything. I thought I was cool and eccentric. Turns out I’m socially retarded. Thank God (that’s you) for the Vyvanse. At least it’s severely reduced my porn intake. And I’m not chasing the girls. But it is turning me into a Stepford Wife.
I have an idea, but please, take this with a grain of salt, because I don’t know if it’s the ADD talking, but if I have to start all over, could I start over as a baby again? This particular social experiment of yours is failing. Miserably.
And stop telling me, “Try to be positive — at least you don’t have irritable bowel syndrome.” That’s not helping.
