Growing up wasn’t easy. Just like for many of us, there were challenges. Whether living in the inner city of Sydney or the rural streets of the US Midwest. Things could and did get tough. Every generation of people has had its own challenges. Mine lay in the ’70s and ’80s. Along with me was my brother.
If I thought times were tough for me, I couldn’t even begin to imagine how tough they were for him.
Not only was he getting the sharp and pointy end of the stick from our father and mother he also had me. The one he was made responsible for due to our birth order, the demands of my parents and possibly the fact that I adored him held a lot of weight.
I adored him because he was my safe place, and he was my protector, guardian and fun maker. Everything that kid did was fun and safe, comparably to any other time we were around our parents.
If he went to the “Katopie” patch, I wanted to go to the “Katopie” patch. If he was going BB hunting for pigeons in the grain elevator, I wanted to go even if it was gross, dusty and had rats.
As we grew older, it became less “cool” to have his little sister hanging around him and his mate. I was banished to stay at home with a babysitter.
I didn’t want a babysitter; I wanted to do all the tomboy stuff and get up to all kinds of shenanigans. I didn’t like to learn to clean, sew, read about women with scarlet letters on their dresses or play with dolls. Although I had plenty. I wanted to do “me” things.
When we got older and had nearly grown children of our own, my brother would often say to me. “You could fall into a pile of shit and ALWAYS come out smelling like a rose.”
In these moments, we would throw our heads back, hold on to our stomachs, and laugh until we had tears. Because we’ll whatelse can be done?
Now that I’m even older, I also know it was a fact that it wasn’t just because I had it easy in life. Of course, as children, he made my life a lot easier. But I was impulsive and always willing to take a chance.
I was a risk taker, someone willing to put their neck out and have a red hot go of things. He saved me from drowning more than once, falling out of a tree and breaking my neck or getting run over by a car.
My view was always, why not? I only had one life to live, so they were telling me. I wanted to get in while the getting was good.
I wouldn’t learn until many years later that this was just one of the many characteristics of ADHD. Though more seen in boys and young men, it can be found in women too.
While my brother may not know just how much I struggled. I made some really poor decisions and some really great ones over the years. But all of the choices I made I lived with.
And I’m not sad or ashamed to say that through making all those choices, I’ve learned and am still learning to love myself and be grateful for the lessons I’ve learned along the way.
I know why not to climb trees in mud boots, I know why loaning my car to a new boyfriend on a snowy night is a bad idea, and I understand why getting on a plane with everything I own and never looking back is one of the most extraordinary things I could have ever done for myself.
Along with the heartache and grief, which I still feel today, just like it was yesterday and even at this age, I feel gratitude, pride and joy in those sometimes shitty decisions.
Because while I might get very close to smelling like shit, it’s the ADHD that has brought me to the place where I always have the opportunity to come out smelling like a rose. I made a choice others might not have.
If I stink, it’s never for long, and I hardly ever, if never, know about it. I’m too excited and looking forward to my next adventure.
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