Can I Have Your Attention?

I am nervous about telling you any of this. That’s partly because I have thought of myself and portrayed myself for so long as a strong individual, seldom with a problem deeper than a twisted ankle. I’m also nervous because I’m not sure what your reaction will be towards me after you find out that I’m not always such a strong person. You might decide that I’m making all this up or that I’m making excuses. I’m hoping that you can hear my heart, see my determination, and give me grace where I have fallen short.

When I was a child, I was diagnosed by a family doctor with a common learning disorder. The only treatment available at that time was a drug that was known to have very bad side effects. My parents decided to deal with my disorder without drugs. Instead, they raised me to cope with the effects of the disorder, instilling in me a strong determination to succeed, and even excel. I owe everything to my parents who loved me despite impulsivity, social awkwardness, and academic shortfalls.

Even after such wonderful upbringing, I still had a myriad of problems. My short-term memory was horrible. I had a very hard time remembering what I had done in the last 24 hours. Memory and focus issues made school difficult. My lasting impression of 2nd grade is made up of daily paddlings for not doing homework (it probably wasn’t actually daily, but we’re talking memories of a 7-year-old). Throughout elementary school, I was in and out of school counselors’ and principals’ offices for the same reason. Middle School got a little better because the teachers didn’t care as much. High School was a lot better because the teachers didn’t give much weight to homework grades. I was able to graduate 7th in my class, by the grace of God. Still, adults told me I was lazy. Teachers scolded me for not living up to my potential. I can remember feelings of desperation because I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t excel like the other kids. Because I couldn’t explain what was going on, I gave in and believed what people said about me.

Over the years, I learned “coping skills”. These coping skills helped me either look like normal people or function close to their level. Sometime my coping skills work, and sometimes they don’t. When my coping skills are working, I feel good about myself. I can even remember times in my pride when I bragged to people about how good I was at controlling the effects of the disorder. There were many times when I doubted that I even suffered from the disorder at all. But, when my coping skills failed, I failed. It wasn’t a good feeling at all. I would ask myself, “Why can’t I be normal like everyone else?”

My coping skills scraped me through college. I graduated with a fair GPA and a degree in Youth and Family Ministry from Lipscomb University. I began my first youth ministry position at a little church in Mt. Juliet, TN called Corinth Church of Christ. Corinth was good for me because there had never been a youth ministry there before and no one had any lofty expectations. I could stretch and grow at my own pace, which was usually breakneck. The first two years were wonderful. Then people started noticing that my planning and organization was falling off. My third year at Corinth was spent in survival mode. I resigned in the spring of that year because of, what I thought was, “burn out”.

I quickly got a call from Randall Dunn at Friendship Christian School to come and develop their computer and network infrastructure. I took the job and before I knew it, I was teaching Jr High and High School classes along with designing websites, billboards, magazine ads, brochures, and just about anything else. The first two years were great. The third year was a struggle to survive. I resigned in the spring of my third year because of, what I thought was, burn out.

I can see a little more clearly now. You know… retrospect is 20/20. I can see that, in both jobs, I wasn’t actually burned out. I just got myself into a situation where my mental disorder was able to take over. In both instances, after a certain time, my coping skills stopped working. People noticed, called my competence into question, and I fell deeper into the hole. At that point, I couldn’t see a way out of the hole without leaving altogether.

June of 2004, I began work at University Church of Christ in Tuscaloosa, AL. I have had a great time. My youth group is full of great teenagers who love the Lord. I want to be everything they need me to be to help them get to know Jesus. I want to be in Tuscaloosa years from now when James Jackson (6) and Ellie Crew (4) come through the youth ministry. I want to have grey hair and still be pointing teens to Jesus.

Enter weeping and gnashing of teeth. For the first time in a long time, I felt a hint of familiar desperation this past May. June 1 would mark my 2-year anniversary at University. I’m beginning my third year. My coping skills began to waiver and people were beginning to notice. Before I knew it, summer was in full swing and I found myself in a pit of despair. Youth events, devos, bible classes, interns, song leading, last minute planning, upset teens, upset parents, upset leadership… I felt like I was unraveling from the top down. I remember wondering if my Dad in Murfreesboro would let me move home and work for him (if you know my Dad, you know how desperate I must have felt… ha ha).

Something was different this time, though. I felt led to take a chance and share what I was struggling with (something I had never really done before). I actually expected skepticism… I don’t know why. What I found instead was love and support from so many. That led to taking a trip to a doctor who specializes in learning and developmental disorders. After several days of tests, several hundred dollars, and the agony of having to wait for a diagnosis, the doctor told me that I have “Adult ADHD” (duh). It’s amazing to hear someone who has never met me before tell me everything that I struggle with and why. It is comforting to know that there is now safe medicine and other treatments that can help me with this disorder. It is angering to think that I have pridefully attempted to will my way out of it, as if I could will my way out of cancer or diabetes.

ADHD is one of the most over diagnosed and faddish disorders in our country. Our American culture elevates anything that allows us to shirk responsibility or deflect blame. We are so quick to label ourselves with this disorder whenever we forget a name, miss an appointment, or space out in a meeting. Doctors are prescribing meds like candy. Our culture has made it difficult for anyone to care for or respect what true ADHD sufferers are going through. I used to joke a lot about ADHD. Admittedly, there are some pretty funny jokes about it. I love this one:

- “What does ADHD stand for?”
- “It stands for Attention Deficit… Hey! Look at that!”

Though I will probably tell a few more ADHD jokes in my time, it is no longer a joke in my life. I’m finally taking all this seriously. I’m making changes like crazy. I’m growing as a person. I’m being open and honest about my struggles. God is shaping me through all of it.

When I was 17-years-old, I decided to give my whole life to Jesus Christ. From that moment on, I knew I had to devote the rest of my life to full-time ministry. If I knew then how hard ministry would be for me, I might have chickened out. But I’m not ready to go work for my Dad just yet. I must be a glutton for punishment to want so badly to continue in full-time ministry. But that’s it. I’m determined to be successful. For my sake and for my teens’ sakes, I must be successful. I covet your prayers.