As a child I was obsessed with the idea that I was going to die some day. I tried not to think about it, but there was hardly a day that passed by that I did not. It terrified me, but the worst part was that I could not do anything about it. While most people have a fear of dying, they do not think about it daily and let it interfere with their lives.

       I was a strange child with a chronic sense that I did not belong. The bond tying us together as a species did not exist between others and myself. I felt like an alien living on a strange and distance planet. My alienation was compounded by a sense that I was not loved or wanted. As a child, I cried often and tried to understand what was wrong with me.

       As the years passed, the alienation that I sensed internally became a physical reality. Distance grew between my family and myself, childhood friends, and society at large. By the age of twelve, I had no friends, seldom left my home, and cried constantly. "I'll show them, I do not need anybody. I'll put all my energies into my studies." That was short lived. No matter what I did, my mind always drifted away from schoolwork to daydreaming. It was nothing new; I had been doing for as long as I could remember. It was such an integrated part of my life that it never occurred to me that it was a problem. That realization was made as a teenage when I tried to stop and found that I could not.

       My life as a child had its good moments, but over all I had a pretty bad childhood. I could not imagine things getting any worst, but they did. At the age of ten I began having horror attacks. Without warning I would awaken, screaming as I ran out of my bedroom and down a flight of stairs. My parents would question what was the matter. I would tell them that I had a nightmare. I could not tell them the truth. No one should have the thoughts I had. It was as if I witnessed my on nonexistence, it was nothingness. I did not want to plant those thoughts in their heads if they did not have them, so I never told them the truth. This was a problem because the attacks were almost nightly. My family began to wonder if I was losing my mind, but did nothing about the problem. Talking about the eternity of God or any subject dealing with the universe could trigger an attack during the day. I stopped going to church, avoided astronomy, and tried to block out classroom discussions that dealt with those subjects.

       I had other problems that seemed similar to my horror attacks. Often after school or in the evening, I had similar but less intense sensations. Watching TV or taking a walk often helped. At other times the world around me seemed to move in slow motion or things seem to be moving at extreme speeds.

       I made it though high school but never finished college. I hoped that I would outgrow the many problems that plagued my life. Instead they followed me into adulthood. One of the most frustrating problems was my inability to process information in the presence of others. I could never think of anything to say; I could not come up with solutions to problems or make a decision. I was very good at hiding these problems from others and myself.

       At the age of forty, I began to wonder if I would ever have a chance to live before I died. Nothing had changed in all that time. I was alone and isolated from the rest of the world. I was still having horror attacks and distortions of reality, which took on a frightening change. They would occur at any place and any time of day.

       In 1995, I was diagnosed with ADD without hyperactivity. The joy of finally knowing what was wrong was short lived. It soon became clear that I was not your typical ADDer. However, that really was a blessing. For the first time in my life I had a goal. There was no doubt that I had ADD, but I was different. I was determined to find out why.

       I put all my energy and attention toward understanding ADD. After about a year, I noticed that my horror attacks had all but stopped and the distortions in reality had become rare. What had changed? Nearly every moment of my waking life was filled thinking about ADD or mental activity. As a child, this was a goal that I had set for myself in the hopes of stopping the horror attacks, but never fully attained it.

       Being different and accepting it changed my life in several ways. Instead of letting my frustrations get the best of me or ignoring the problem, I began to search for answers. This gave me a goal to reach for and purpose to my life, something that I never had. Secondly, as I shared my ideas about ADD with my therapist, she told me that I was very intuitive and creative. I did not know how to handle statements like that because I did not believe that I had a creative bone in my body. As far as I was concerned, I had nothing to offer humanity. Nevertheless, she continued to encourage me with similar statements and I continued my work on ADD.

       In the beginning I thought, as my therapist, it was her job to find something positive to say about me. However, she never let up. She began to call me the specialist in the field of ADD. She would tell me that no one has approached ADD from my perspective. It was when my ideas started to explain my behavior, and it made sense to her, that I finally took her statements seriously. This meant that I indeed had something to offer.

       I am not currently on any medications. The ones that I have tried did not work or made things worst. I hope that will soon change. I believe the right meds can do wonders for us. However, understanding my behavior has been very therapeutic. I now realize that my sense of not belonging and feeling alone are very real, but they are only creations of my mind. I have choices. I don't have to continue to play old tapes and just react to things.

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