TEXARKANA MAGAZINE
GOOD EVENING TXK COLUMN BY BAILEY GRAVITT
I f you knew how long I put off writing this article each month, a project that only takes me 30-ish minutes, then you might fully understand the extent of my ADHD. You would see my panic at just the idea of having to sit still long enough to organize my thoughts. That is exactly why well over half of my stories are written while I am taking a bath. It’s my only safe place in this world, I swear—the only place where the water running in the tub is louder than the thoughts shouting and begging for attention in my brain. I do not exactly remember the day I was formally diagnosed with attention-deficit/hyperactive disorder (ADHD), but I can firmly remember being in elementary school wondering if it was the sole reason I was chosen to be in the gifted and talented program. I was one of only seven kids in my class chosen to participate, and it made me feel like a weird freak every week, having to leave school early in front of all my peers every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I would ride across town on a bus with my six classmates to a building where I was supposed to… what? Just sit there and BE gifted and talented?
Anyway, as my mom would say if I were telling you this story in person, “Okay, Bailey! Land your plane, honey, land your plane.” There IS a point, I promise. Stay with me. The six classmates that joined me every week in this program were straight-A students. I was a straight-B/C student. One of these classmates went on to become valedictorian of my graduating class. I was nowhere close to the top of my class. Every time I opened my mouth around these “friends” (you’re “friends” with everyone in elementary school, right?), I felt like a blubbering idiot. They were so sharp, so intelligent, and able to understand, well… everything! I felt inferior to them because no matter how hard I tried to be like them, I failed miserably. I just could not comprehend things the way they did, and I was never going to. When my mom finally told me I had ADHD, my feelings began to make more sense, but it only made it that much harder to fit in with my classmates. I was given exercises to strengthen my ability to focus, patches on the side of my stomach that made me nauseous all day, or pills that turned me into a zombie, and they would never
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