Recently my husband asked me if I believed in luck. He was reading a survey from a men’s magazine in which 85% of respondents answered, “Yes”. Without hesitation I stated, “No. I believe you make your own luck”, then added, “Luck is where preparation and opportunity meet”; quoting some business success book I’d read.
I tried to quit, really. And I did quit for six months. My story isn’t much different from everyone else. I started about twenty years ago. I thought it made me look cool. I wanted to be part of the in-crowd. I thought I could control it, but it ended up controlling me. It became my trademark. It was as if they were an extension of my hands.
But, lately, I started thinking. Everyone knows it’s bad for you, and there’s the expense. I added it up and figured I was spending about fifty dollars a month on this addictive habit. So I quit - cold turkey.
It was hard at first. I felt brittle, ready to crack at any moment. Sure there are products out there that help you through the transition, but I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hands. But within a few weeks I felt stronger, cleaner, and more myself. I thought I was done with it, but just yesterday I lost the battle and went back.
I just realized I have adult ADD, and conveniently, there is now a medication available that can give me the efficiency and clarity I’ve always desired.
I was sitting at my son’s orthodontist appointment and I picked up an article which talked about this disorder in adults, and as I read it I realized they could have been describing the struggles I’ve felt my whole life. The way you diagnose yourself is to go down a list of behavioral traits and check off those that apply- disorganized, check; constantly losing things, check; inability to complete a task, check; interrupting conversations, check.
Do you know the joke that goes, “There are three kinds of people, those that are good at math and those that aren’t”? I can relate to that joke because I’m firmly in the “aren’t” category. This is common knowledge around my house and, consequently, my school age children have long since banned me from helping them with their math homework. But I believe there is a corollary to that joke where there really is a third category: Those that are good at math, those that aren’t good at math, and thirdly, those that don’t like math but are, nonetheless, addicted to Sudoku.
I'd like to think I have reached an age where I can be myself without worrying about what other people think. Of course, I'd also like to think I can still wear a bikini in public but obviously wishing don't make it so. But bikini aside, I thought I had this self-acceptance thing down.
However, I met a very accomplished woman the other day and all she had to do was pose one question to have me doubting the very worth of my life.