Personal Narrative-Traumatic Stress Disorder (ADHD)

When I was in middle school, I desperately wanted to find my place in the social hierarchy. I ultimately decided I fit in with a particular crowd that had similar interests: video games, nerd hobbies, intellect, etc. I specifically remember instances where I would express my thankfulness for this crowd I had inserted myself into. It breaks my heart thinking about it, that middle school girl that wanted to fit in so badly that she threw herself into a group that openly mocked and hurled jealous insults at her. I cannot look at that person as myself, because I am no longer her. The culmination of these false friendships and façades of fitting in occurred on the second to last day of eighth grade. I had seen the warning signs that these people were not good to me before, but I ignored them for the sake of having a place. But it was in the moment that they tore down the identity I had built for myself that the curtain was pulled back, and I saw with clarity that these people were toxic. They told me I was not smart. They told me I did not like the right

I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was around ten years old, but I was not informed of this until the end eleventh grade, when I accidentally stumbled upon the information. I have trouble controlling my focus and completing work in a timely manner, particularly with essays and I occasionally have trouble following along during class lessons, especially with math. I have always had high expectations for myself in school, but had difficulty producing work that displayed my mindset. This was frustrating because I spent twice as much time on homework than my classmates, but still found myself behind on assignments. I always completed my homework, however, the late penalties I often received greatly impacted my grades each year. My parents told the

In order to get the help I needed, my mom had to pick me up two hours early from school every day and bring me to Anderson Elementary, where the speech therapist was located. Being forced to leave school early didn't help my social issues. The friends I had turned on me, and I became the weird girl. I no longer had people to eat lunch with, and invitations to birthday parties stopped arriving in the mail. I was mocked on a daily basis by people I had previously considered to be friends. Everyone had their own conspiracy theories about me; it hurt. Along with my new-found social struggles, my grades began to drop and I knew I had to make a

I was very shy and awkward during my adolescent years. A cringe-worthy yet endearing moment of reflection of suppressed memories. I was the fourth child out of five, to two immigrant parents. We were a low income family with no budget for vacations or expensive school trips. Socially I was not accepted. I was always the outlier. Subsequently, I was bullied and it impaired my childhood for quite sometime. I felt as if I was sentenced to social death that I just could not replevy before the end of adolescent years. Other students taunted and jeered at me habitually; even with uncontrollable factors. I specifically remember my Haitian heritage being one of the domineering methods of my torture. I recall that being subjected

Focus! The burden of destructive emotions constantly tarnishes my brain. It is essential that I isolate myself from the pessimistic chain of thoughts. I need to distort myself from the daily trauma and everlasting misery that I encounter. The turmoil has left me forever fatigued and has numbed my mind. My heart is grazed and broken with regret, my soul is haunted by fear and guilt along with my body diseased and rotten. The experience has been morbid and excruciating, I can’t tolerate this anymore.

After years of harassment, I concluded that the only way to end this torment was to change myself. I deepened my voice and regulated my actions, concealing the qualities that made me, me. For a while, it worked; the bullying had ceased, and I eventually fit in. However, after eighth grade, after I had finally managed to

None of my friends from the past were in my classes; hence, I was not able to turn to them for support. I would walk alone in the halls which gave three boys the opportunity to talk to me. In the beginning of the school year, the boys would form an unpretentious dialect with me on occasions. By the end of the first marking period, marching band and color guard ended and the three boys began to hector me daily about my interests. I tried opening up to a few of the girls in my class, but I quickly realized they were not truthfully my friends. I believed that talking to them about the three boys would help me, but they did not seem to understand or care. This caused me to become more insecure. By the middle of the second marking period, I would barely talk to anyone. The bullying grew excessive, which led me into a severely depressed state. The situation made me question my worth and made me feel there was no one who could help. I refused to confide in anyone about what I was going through. The boys’ torture increased as they commented about my physical appearance. Those comments caused havoc in my mind, and caused my self-esteem to continue decreasing. Finally, when the second marking period came to an end, winter color guard started. After a few short weeks, my color guard instructor, Mrs. Annette, noticed a change in my behavior and then gave me advice on how to handle the situation. I did not take advice

Throughout our lives, every person encounters hardships that put a strain on other aspects of our lives. The biggest hardship that I have faced was taking care of my wife after she suffered a severe head injury while at work. The injury was the result of a salad fridge door falling and striking the back of her head, causing her to receive a severe concussion that lead to post-concussion syndrome. As a result, she became completely dependent on me. Some of the major hardships that we faced during these times are finances, helping her cope with her injury while she recovered, and maintaining my 4.0 GPA.

Being a freshman, in a new school, a new city, even a new state, frightened me going into my first day of school as a high school attendee. Chaparral High School in Phoenix, Arizona was considered to be the top high school in the state of Arizona, however it sure was not for me. There was an ample amount of kids who believed they were better than the kid next to them because of the money their parents possessed. This characteristic began to grow on me; without my own awareness. Furthermore, I began to talk back to my parents, acted as a terrible brother to both my two younger brothers who looked up to me, as well as, my friends back in El Paso, Texas did not even want to talk to me. I had become a monster in all my friend’s eyes.

I wish I had had a friend while growing up, but I did that myself by not wanting any friends. I could have saved myself a lot of suffering simply by trying to fit in at school. I had always told myself, “They don’t know any better. It’s okay.” I didn’t realize how mature my thinking was at the time. From being bullied, I learned how to strengthen myself and repress my feelings. I do not resent any of my classmates from elementary school since I have changed from my childish ways. My childhood taught me how mean children could be. I look forward to raising my own children and showing them the love I had never received in my

An overabundance of energy, lack of concentration, restlessness, and forgetfulness all sound like a child on a normal day. For the ADHD child these behaviors are troublesome when they are unmanageable and impede the day to day activities children must execute whether at home or in a classroom setting (CDC, 2015). Furthermore, data shows that “ADHD can interfere with a child’s ability to perform in school, do homework, and abide by the rules “(AACAP, 2013). The need for an equal opportunity for children to achieve academic success needed to be updated from a previous Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 1965 and The No Child Left Behind act was put into effect in 2001(U.S. Department of Education, 2001).The overwhelming results of The No

ADHD Does Not Exist, the words were written in big red letters against a glowing saffron background. The eye-catching colors and intentionally provocative title did their job in evoking my curiosity enough that I picked up the book. It was a Friday afternoon or more importantly the first inaugural afternoon of spring break and the start of a much needed week long break, and here I was pacing slowly up and down the book racks pointer finger trailing over creaking book binders, hunting for something that would peak my interest. As a child I used to devour multiple books in a day, not to brag but I was a bit of a prodigy. Some of my proudest moments to this day are related to the classroom. I still vividly remember the pride I felt after reading

When I was a sophomore in high school, my mom developed severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. We had just moved to Portland so my family had no external support. As the oldest child, I found myself taking on the role of caregiver, secretary, and housekeeper in addition to AP student.

“Chantelle! Come over and see this,” my mom whispered as she glided past me towards her client’s chair. I unfolded my nine-year-old self from under the empty hair dryer and gingerly walked over. While peering skeptically at the child’s scalp before me, I began to note tiny bugs crawling by the roots and my eyes followed my mother’s comb tip as she pointed out several nits. This was definitely one of the worst cases of lice she had shown me, and I had seen quite a few by then! As the daughter of a hairstylist, my exposure to skin and hair started at an early age. Growing up in a salon allowed me to observe first hand how significant an impact looking healthy on the outside had on a client’s everyday confidence and self-esteem; a lesson that was later reinforced during my acne ridden teenage years at an all-girls high school. At the salon, I always enjoyed being called over by the estheticians and hairdressers to view interesting cases that ranged from alopecia and cystic acne, to severe foot fungus and poliosis. Since my mother and her employees always recommended physician follow-ups when they spotted something suspicious, I was always left wondering what happened on the medical end of the spectrum. In high school and college, I began to fulfill this curiosity by reading about the science behind skin, hair and nail disorders.

One of the most difficult things I have ever Experienced has been My ADHD and when I was younger I had a hard time controlling my bowels. This was the cause of a lot of ridicule throughout my life and had built up a lack of confidence. The Problems were even at home, although my parents were and are very supportive my siblings were not as kind. My older brother had made me feel almost worthless and when my younger brother started to mock me it destroyed me I didn't like feeling like I was lower than my younger brother I wanted to be his role model. There were also problems at school it had effected my school work I wasn't able to perform to the best of my ability which left me feeling dumb and when I had to constantly go to Doctors appointments