Guest_The Mad Hanar_*
All.Desire.Has.Disappeared
“Do you know why you’re here, Matt?” the doctor said.“Uh, because my dad brought me.” I replied. The whole room busted withlaughter. It was an early Saturday morning at the local clinic in Las Animas, and I did not want to be awake or at that place. The truth is, I was there to be evaluated on whether or not my dosage of Ritalin was enough. It was never really a question of “too much”; it was always “enough”. My doctor asked all of the typical doctor questions, how are the pills making me feel, how I’m doing in school, when the fact was that
both of them were bad. That was something that held no importance to other people, I felt, so I always responded with the shy kid’s go to answer: good. An appointment always ended the same way, and today was no different: the medication was working. Two small white pills a day to keep the hyperness away. It was time to go back to my grandmother’s house and watch TV. Another day would pass as they always have.
Things weren’t always that way for me. When I was a kid, I loved playing outside. I lived in a small town, so there was never a shortage of football or Yu-Gi-Oh games to play. Back then, it was never about winning,
it was always about having fun, and in that, I was an expert. My mind was always racing from one thing to another, though whatever I was stuck on at the time got paramount attention. In my house, I was always a bundle of energy: the little brother who would never shut up and would never stop bothering you. Every day was a different experience for me: fishing with my brother, playing hockey with my other brother, going to my friend’s house to play with whateverball his brother let him use; the type of stuff that a kid loves to do.
There were always the issues with me, however: the hyperness, the talking, the attention seeking, the inability to get things done. Teacher’s were fed up, kid’s parents all gave the sideways look, my parents were exasperated and exhausted, siblings and kids would always say “Don’t you ever shut up?!” I was just always a beacon of
annoyance to other people, and the only reason something was done about it was because my third grade teacher called my parents about my continuous classroom disruptions. The teacher’s didn’t need a bundle of energy; they needed a quiet and studious kid. It is always better to be seen and not heard.
My dad was educated in medicine and worked in the lab for the hospital in the next town over. He trusted doctor’s and physician’s word and for good reason; they were usually right. Everything they prescribed
worked, that mattered much more than the side effects. The Ritalin did work in getting me to calm down. It took care of the hyper aspect of my condition. However, it only accomplished that through stopping all of my thinking. Taking Ritalin is like stepping into a haze, a fever like state without the temperature and headache. I was always constantly tired. Concentrating on something was more of a task than a normal everyday thing; the act literally
drained away what energy I felt like I had. The most comfortable way to live was to sit on the couch, watch television with my grandparents and do whatever they needed me to do. They weren’t needy like the others, I didn’t have to talk to them, and for all of their enthusiasm about life, they didn’t play child’s games very often. I was left to this peaceful, power saving mode when I was a child.
School improved for me in some ways. All the energy I used to speak with was cut in half, and since I didn’t want to speak, I used it on reading the books our teachers gave us. I couldn’t listen to the lectures.
“And then Washington sdfopjwopijer….weprjpoqwj….dssgsfgre, you get that, Matt?” “Yes, ma’am, George Washington led the Army.” “Good job Matt, come get your candy.” “No thanks, ma’am.” I’ll never really be sure if the teacher’s were concerned about me personally, but they were certainly proud of the progress I was making in their classes. The only times they would show concern is when they would notice me on the corner of the playground furthest from the other kids. “Why don’t you go play with your friends?” “It’s fine, I’m okay” “Are you
sure?” “Yes, ma’am.”
The reactions of the people around me were mixed. My brothers and friends were annoyed by the fact that I no longer wanted to do anything with them anymore. Annoying got replaced with boring, too much got
replaced by too little. To their credit, they certainly tried. They would always come to my grandma’s and ask if I could play. My grandma would look into the living room, see me shake my head, and tell them that I was busy with
homework. Small towns are funny in that when people stop communicating with people it creates perceptions that one would never expect. People thought that
I felt I was too good for them. The sideways stares got replaced by glares. Shut up got replaced by gossip. I was too tired to care. I was too tired to explain myself. Why cause trouble? Nobody cared and I didn’t either. I was too
young to know that the looks my grandparent’s gave me were looks of concerns. It never occurred to me that their constant efforts to get me outside weren’t to get rid of me, but to make me happy. They were much more lax when it came to my play time. When I used to disappear for hours, they used to get angry. After the Ritalin, they asked me how my day went. I used more one word answers. I told them what they wanted to hear.
My uncle seemed to be impacted the most. He lived with my grandparents, and I was his “best bud.” He’d always be there to listen to me ramble on and on about the Avalanche, Rockies and Broncos. He’d be surprised by how knowledgeable I was about all of those sports. I had the averages for all of the hitters, the ERAs for all the pitchers, the touchdown to interception ratios for all of the quarterbacks, the expert’s opinions on who would be the champions that year. I stopped after I started taking the Ritalin. It just didn’t matter that much to
me anymore. Sports were just the afternoon timeslot on the television. I always thought he was annoyed with me because he would seem upset. He explained to me some time after that he was upset that I had become a zombie. My dad seemed similarly impacted. He would always try to get me involved in things. He’d cook
up my favorite foods and watch the hockey games with me. He’d always point out how well my favorite players, Joe Sakic and Patrick Roy, were doing. He’d still take me fishing, camping and to the local baseball games. He tried his best to make sure the world around me didn’t change, but I changed too much to love
that world anymore, unfortunately.
2003 was a difficult year. My dad saw an opportunity and put me and my siblings into homeschooling. The program was one of the best in the country, and he wanted the best for his kids. That was the same year that he passed away. With him gone, and with the small town politics reminding me of that fact every day, I
decided to move with my aunt up here. I couldn’t focus on my homework, and I failed the homeschooling program. Another thing that happened during that time was that my Aunt let me stop taking the Ritalin. As I stopped, I started
getting more hyper around the house. It seemed all of the energy I kept pent up came pouring out that year. I could not wait to get back into regular school again.
When I got into regular school again, I had my troubles. It was hard talking to new
people. The city kids were much different from the town kids. There was less of a communal feeling, and more of an individual feeling. People wouldn’t get rejected by someone because of what they heard about them, they would get rejected because people didn’t like them. That was my problem. I started to annoy people
again. I’d talk a mile a minute and I’d never stay on one topic. Some teacher’s were having trouble dealing
with me, and they would get frustrated. Kids would give me dirty looks when I started disrupting class. Siblings of my friends would want me to quiet down. The quiet and mysterious kids were the ones considered cool. So I shut down. I didn’t even need the Ritalin anymore. I didn’t have anyone to talk to so I developed a quiet and solitary lifestyle and demeanor. Certain kids would try to talk to me every once in a while, encourage me to tell my jokes and bring my energy. I didn’t believe it. It all felt like a trap. I locked myself in my mind with my restless energy and thoughts. It’s always better to be seen and not heard.
That’s a mindset that I try to fight these days: to be seen and not heard. People aren’t that bad, but the experiences I had are too numerous and repetitive to be denied. I’ll never be the bundle of energy I once was, and I’ll always have trouble concentrating and communicating. The fact is that I lost a certain element of my childhood: the ability to have fun and make friends. It’s something that I really don’t know how to do today, and it is something that I am still working on to this day. In the end, the Ritalin was effective. It got me to calm down. It also had the side effect of making me give up on the things that made me happy. What is the most important thing is really up to the person analyzing the situation.
Modifié par The Mad Hanar, 21 septembre 2013 - 05:04 .
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