Oatmeal for Dinner

A tradition I never knew I needed…

Fridays have become a tradition of family games, movies, food, and fun, not putdowns and shame.

Every Friday, we rotate on who chooses the activity. The kids always groan when it’s my turn because I always choose a cool 80’s or 90’s flick that is live-action (not a cartoon), has lots of heart, and possibly some tears. What’s hilarious: the kids end up watching the entire thing without making a noise (not the norm – one or all of them are always chatting, fighting, humming, or asking a load of questions about the plot).

My movies are the least liked, and I get that I’m the minority there, I actually like that, but I love how they engage even if they will deny it afterwards. I’m exposing them to ET, Harry and the Hendersons, The Sandlot, and Goonies. They can hate all over it, but they will know it. Those are the movies of my childhood, and one day they will realize I was trying to let them in on who their mom is, and/or was. I like to think that part of me from my childhood is still there, but thinking of my childhood sucks. I do not like doing it, there weren’t any family fun Fridays (unless my stepsister was around). We weren’t an involved family and the less I was around seemed to make my life and my parents better.

I was never a rebellious kid; I didn’t sneak out or date older men (and I knew a few who did this at 17). I liked leaning more prudish, being by the book, nerdy, and not that wild. Most things made me nervous, and breaking the rules just made me sweat and get pit stains on my favorite shirts. Who needs THAT?

However, I was treated like they caught me with contraband or I was on my way to being another kid going down the wrong path, and their intervention was going to “save” me. I was ridiculed, verbally/emotionally abused pretty routinely, and often prohibited from going out on a weeknight (because I did not make good enough grades or a random punishment that was going to “teach” me a lesson – *it taught me to always be on edge*). I was also compared endlessly to my stepsister and made to believe that her abilities were mine (I just was too dumb to see that).

Now, I no longer feel this way, but it took SO long to get here. While I know I want to help others, and I finally feel like I’m in a place to start, I cannot help but wonder: IS EVERYONE’S EXPERIENCE SIMILAR TO THIS?! Why is it that ADHDers end up feeling non-stop shame and guilt? Is it because our parents are likely suffering from a lack of an ADHD diagnosis and they are burnt out/fed up/can’t handle anymore?!

I think before we can answer the question of why, we have to look at how do we go forward? What do we do for ourselves before crumbling into a squishy mess on the floor? I got so tired of feeling guilty that I got the help I needed to see maybe I WASN’T always the problem. It took a while, coaching, therapy, and EMDR, but it finally made me see that my triggers from trauma were flooding my brain; I was more defensive than I needed to be because I assumed I pissed people off more than they liked me. And I expected friends to be nasty to me because…well, who could stand me?! I could barely stand me.

Not anymore, I get annoyed at myself but disliking my personality, who I am…how much I talk, well, there are people who love me, like my energy, and if they are annoyed at me they tell me. Once I unpacked my willingness to accept this kind of behavior started with my past and my own self view, things shifted. I can’t promise this for others, but if there is a way to help, there’s resources, there’s support, and I know my kids root for me because they need me there for them.

Now I can have family fun Fridays that are about connection; no one is put down or made to feel bad over their neurodivergent presentations (my kids have no chance: I have ADHD, so does the spouse…it is what it is). But knowing what I came out of, I can enjoy these moments knowing my kids will look back and feel loved, not tolerated.

Need help with resources/support/validation? Send me a message.