So I noticed, now that I’m dictating my entries, they seem much longer. I would appreciate some feedback from my fuel oil readers as to whether or not these entries are too long. If they are, I can break them into pieces or make an effort to be more concise. I will say, generally their topics that I feel need a little time and energy. But I want to make sure that I’m satisfying the needs of those who actually read. So let me know if you feel like it, what your jam is. I tend to try to balance some short and some long. And I’m also going to try to get a video blog / YouTube channel off the ground this summer as I finally finished the redesign and relocation of my website.
Anyway, now that I’ve made this a gigantic paragraph longer than it needs to be, here we go. I honestly can’t remember if I’ve written about this yet. I know I say that a lot. But I’ve been writing this blog for about 8 years maybe 10. Almost every week. Sometimes it’s hard to keep track of what I’ve said here and what I’ve just been telling clients and friends.
But this is come up recently, as a friend of mine has had her oldest diagnosed with a slew of conditions that are quite reminiscent of the package of situations that my youngest deals with. I was texting with her the other day, as we haven’t had a chance to really connect in person yet, about how she felt finally getting these diagnosis. I won’t share her thoughts. Those are hers. But it reminded me very much of when my youngest was diagnosed with pediatric bipolar the age of four.
My dad’s not a guy who swears a lot. But when I told him, I’m pretty sure he said, “oh s***!” My mom was similarly distressed, feels slightly classier. That’s a joke, in terms of my dad being less classy. It’s mostly about the potty mouth that I acquired well working as a professional chef.
I can’t remember exactly my wife’s reaction. It wasn’t quite so dramatic. My wife tends to respond with sadness, not anger. So I think there was a certain amount of mourning. I was borderline elated. I was so desperate to have an answer that I was psyched. If you don’t have an answer how can you deal with it.
I’ve also run into this with a lot of adult clients lately. These are people who are bright reasonably competent humans who get diagnosed in adulthood and look back and say oh my God. This explains so much. So, my takeaway is that I’d always rather know what it is. Y’all know me. I’m an action-oriented dude. I put stuff on my to-do list. And I make it happen. You tell me what we’re dealing with, I’ll research it. All partner with the doctor. I’ll learn as much as I can. I’ll take parenting classes. But if I don’t know what it is, it feels like a shot in the dark.
So my suggestion, is to get yourself or your kids a legitimate diagnosis for whatever you think is going on whether it’s a mood disorder, dyslexia, ADHD, whatever else. Then get yourself hooked up with a quality clinician and put together a plan. Of course, over time that plan will need to be adjusted maybe the diagnosis will change over time. Maybe it’ll still suck. But probably less. And you’ll probably feel like you have a little more control. I wish you all the best of luck. I’m still fighting the good fight on my journey.