I spotted a sign of things to come this morning.
I dug out my mittens for the first time in months and opted for the wool beanie instead of the sweat-stained Nike hat. My run took me uphill, along Willow Street to King Edward Ave. The steely autumn air cleansed my lungs, like a splash of cold water to the face. My breath was steam.
Wet leaves painted the sidewalks. I preferred running in the middle of the road for some reason. The sound of buzz saws melted together with singing sparrows and crying crows while the sun thawed winters delicate attempt to creep in.
Up the slight hill, my legs barreled past the Stop sign, at which point I usually comply, and instead I kept running around the corner of King Ed for a block. Then a sharp left down Heather Street for a peak of the view that never gets old: the summits of Cypress, Grouse and Seymour.
From my vantage point, I was looking at Grouse head-on. And that's when the peep show started.
Teasing me with traces of its winter lace, the mountain's delicate dusting of powdered sugar glowed in the morning sun. A smile gradually spread across my face. My stuffy nose began to run and I was glad I had worn my mittens.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
"Barren Wasteland"
I recently sat down for coffee with adult ADHD life coach, Pete Quily. I wanted to get a feel for the current landscape of support services, provincial policy and funding available for adults living with ADHD here in B.C. Quily, who spends most of his waking hours supporting adults with the condition as a certified life coach and blogging about new research and statistics, seemed like a logical place to start the conversation.
When asked to describe that landscape here in B.C., his response was practically involuntary: "Barren wasteland."
OK. Let's expand on that.
Quily cited the 2007 closure of the only clinic in Vancouver specifically dedicated to diagnosing adults with ADHD and the 14 month wait list the clinic had when the doors closed.
He spoke of the B.C. Medical Association's 2009 report titled "Your Attention, Please:" A Call to Improve Care for ADHD Patients in which the BCMA stated that the government needed to provide services specifically for adults.
And perhaps most poignantly, Quily shared anecdotes from his own experiences as an adult with ADHD. In his estimation, the stigma associated with the condition is partially to blame when it comes to the lack of conversation around the topic within provincial policy.
It's this void of conversation that I hope to begin to fill with my graduate research.
As a student at the University of British Columbia's graduate School of Journalism, I'm committed to creating an insightful, intimate and thoroughly researched piece of journalism focused on the stories behind the diagnosis of adult ADHD.
My research will include interviews with experts in the fields of psychology and psychiatry and an extensive review of existing medical findings and reports. I'll delve into the various schools of thought sprouting up around the staggering increase in diagnosis rates over the last twenty to thirty years and will review the policies set in place to respond to this increase. I'll meet with the people who support adults living with ADHD to gain a better understanding of what care is available, and I'll explore treatment options - both traditional and unconventional.
I can pursue all of the above and produce a perfectly comprehensive and accurate piece of text, supported by numbers and science and experts. But I hope to take my work further than that.
I want to offer a voice to adults living with ADHD - living with the stigma. I want to tell the stories of the people that love them and what adult ADHD means to a family, to a spouse and to a sibling. I'd like to share these stories through audio interviews and allow them to accompany the numbers and the science and the experts. I want to present adult ADHD as a human condition.
I've explained my own personal understanding of adult ADHD in a previous blog post. I've explained that I have no agenda other than to push the public conversation around adult ADHD forward. And now I'm explaining that I need your help.
I need people that are willing to come forward about their experiences with adult ADHD and in doing so, contribute to that public conversation. The impact of a project like this hinges on the stories I am able to tell and perhaps, so too does the deconstruction of the stigma associated with adult ADHD.
When asked to describe that landscape here in B.C., his response was practically involuntary: "Barren wasteland."
OK. Let's expand on that.
Quily cited the 2007 closure of the only clinic in Vancouver specifically dedicated to diagnosing adults with ADHD and the 14 month wait list the clinic had when the doors closed.
He spoke of the B.C. Medical Association's 2009 report titled "Your Attention, Please:" A Call to Improve Care for ADHD Patients in which the BCMA stated that the government needed to provide services specifically for adults.
And perhaps most poignantly, Quily shared anecdotes from his own experiences as an adult with ADHD. In his estimation, the stigma associated with the condition is partially to blame when it comes to the lack of conversation around the topic within provincial policy.
It's this void of conversation that I hope to begin to fill with my graduate research.
As a student at the University of British Columbia's graduate School of Journalism, I'm committed to creating an insightful, intimate and thoroughly researched piece of journalism focused on the stories behind the diagnosis of adult ADHD.
My research will include interviews with experts in the fields of psychology and psychiatry and an extensive review of existing medical findings and reports. I'll delve into the various schools of thought sprouting up around the staggering increase in diagnosis rates over the last twenty to thirty years and will review the policies set in place to respond to this increase. I'll meet with the people who support adults living with ADHD to gain a better understanding of what care is available, and I'll explore treatment options - both traditional and unconventional.
I can pursue all of the above and produce a perfectly comprehensive and accurate piece of text, supported by numbers and science and experts. But I hope to take my work further than that.
I want to offer a voice to adults living with ADHD - living with the stigma. I want to tell the stories of the people that love them and what adult ADHD means to a family, to a spouse and to a sibling. I'd like to share these stories through audio interviews and allow them to accompany the numbers and the science and the experts. I want to present adult ADHD as a human condition.
I've explained my own personal understanding of adult ADHD in a previous blog post. I've explained that I have no agenda other than to push the public conversation around adult ADHD forward. And now I'm explaining that I need your help.
I need people that are willing to come forward about their experiences with adult ADHD and in doing so, contribute to that public conversation. The impact of a project like this hinges on the stories I am able to tell and perhaps, so too does the deconstruction of the stigma associated with adult ADHD.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Owning the Label of Adult ADD/ADHD
Adults living with ADD/ADHD are often left out of the conversation both within the realm of public policy and in media coverage. I've been hard pressed to find support services available specifically for adults here in British Columbia, with the exception of ADD/ADHD coach Pete Quily, and data on adults diagnosed with ADD/ADHD is relatively obscure. In my view as a journalist, a seeker of information and truth, this seems odd.
I've decided to dedicate a great portion of my second and final year of grad school to researching adult ADD/ADHD and the stories behind the diagnosis. The stories I hope to share are personal in nature and must be treated with sensitivity and humanity. I fully understand the potential risks that come with speaking publicly about personal struggles associated with ADD. But I also know first hand how much stress can stem from undiagnosed, untreated ADD.
Growing up, my older brother always struggled with school while I usually finished my homework on the bus ride home. He was up late with my mom, desperately trying to finish a spelling assignment or throwing together a science project last minute. I remember these scenarios vividly. I wanted to be good at school, while he appeared not to care. I wondered how we could be so different. Looking back at this time in my life, I can see how much pressure I placed on myself to succeed from a young age. After all, my mom didn't have time to tutor both of us.
My dad worked 60 hours a week managing a restaurant. I remember him coming home smelling like cheeseburgers and ice cream. Most of the time if I waited up for him, I was greeted with a bowl of chocolate almond chip or cookies and cream. Mom usually didn't mind.
My parents fought mostly about money. My dad had forgotten to mail a bill or he didn't tell mom that he bought something at the store. I learned early on what it meant to "bounce" a check and how to shop for presents on Christmas eve. I also learned who kept our household together amidst it all.
It wasn't until high school that my parents separated. My brother was a senior in college, running the risk of not graduating because he was failing Spanish. He explained that he could not understand what was going on in class; he literally couldn't follow. My mom worked in a school district at the time and had experience working one-on-one with kids deemed "special needs." She paid a visit to my brother's college and she fought for him. She found a doctor and suggested that he get tested for ADD. The psychiatrist told my brother that he was amazed he graduated high school and survived three years of college without treatment - surely a testament to my brother's will and my mom's dedication. That spring, my brother was the first in my family to graduate from college.
Two years later, my parents divorced. My mom was certain that my dad also had ADD and she encouraged him to seek support. He was diagnosed and began educating himself about the condition. He is one of the most knowledgeable people on the topic that I know.
I think both my dad and brother would tell you that being aware of their ADD offered them a sense of relief. They weren't stupid or lazy or unmotivated. They felt a certain sense of empowerment.
The ultimate goal of my project is to offer people the opportunity to share their story. Whether it involves empowerment, regret, relief or fear. Maybe it involves all of these and more. I want to capture a picture of the human experience of adults living with ADD/ADHD - both the ADDers and the members of their support system - all within the framework of current policy, research, support services and treatment options.
I intend on using written text and audio interviews to relay these stories. I often find that video cameras can be intimidating for people sharing personal stories. That is not my goal. I want to be sure that those who wish to participate are comfortable in sharing their story and I want to offer the general public some insight into the label of adult ADD/ADHD.
Anyone who feels inclined to participate or who might like some additional information should feel free to contact me directly. It is true, this will be the first piece of journalism I've researched on ADD. But this is not my first experience with ADD.
I've decided to dedicate a great portion of my second and final year of grad school to researching adult ADD/ADHD and the stories behind the diagnosis. The stories I hope to share are personal in nature and must be treated with sensitivity and humanity. I fully understand the potential risks that come with speaking publicly about personal struggles associated with ADD. But I also know first hand how much stress can stem from undiagnosed, untreated ADD.
Growing up, my older brother always struggled with school while I usually finished my homework on the bus ride home. He was up late with my mom, desperately trying to finish a spelling assignment or throwing together a science project last minute. I remember these scenarios vividly. I wanted to be good at school, while he appeared not to care. I wondered how we could be so different. Looking back at this time in my life, I can see how much pressure I placed on myself to succeed from a young age. After all, my mom didn't have time to tutor both of us.
My dad worked 60 hours a week managing a restaurant. I remember him coming home smelling like cheeseburgers and ice cream. Most of the time if I waited up for him, I was greeted with a bowl of chocolate almond chip or cookies and cream. Mom usually didn't mind.
My parents fought mostly about money. My dad had forgotten to mail a bill or he didn't tell mom that he bought something at the store. I learned early on what it meant to "bounce" a check and how to shop for presents on Christmas eve. I also learned who kept our household together amidst it all.
It wasn't until high school that my parents separated. My brother was a senior in college, running the risk of not graduating because he was failing Spanish. He explained that he could not understand what was going on in class; he literally couldn't follow. My mom worked in a school district at the time and had experience working one-on-one with kids deemed "special needs." She paid a visit to my brother's college and she fought for him. She found a doctor and suggested that he get tested for ADD. The psychiatrist told my brother that he was amazed he graduated high school and survived three years of college without treatment - surely a testament to my brother's will and my mom's dedication. That spring, my brother was the first in my family to graduate from college.
Two years later, my parents divorced. My mom was certain that my dad also had ADD and she encouraged him to seek support. He was diagnosed and began educating himself about the condition. He is one of the most knowledgeable people on the topic that I know.
I think both my dad and brother would tell you that being aware of their ADD offered them a sense of relief. They weren't stupid or lazy or unmotivated. They felt a certain sense of empowerment.
The ultimate goal of my project is to offer people the opportunity to share their story. Whether it involves empowerment, regret, relief or fear. Maybe it involves all of these and more. I want to capture a picture of the human experience of adults living with ADD/ADHD - both the ADDers and the members of their support system - all within the framework of current policy, research, support services and treatment options.
I intend on using written text and audio interviews to relay these stories. I often find that video cameras can be intimidating for people sharing personal stories. That is not my goal. I want to be sure that those who wish to participate are comfortable in sharing their story and I want to offer the general public some insight into the label of adult ADD/ADHD.
Anyone who feels inclined to participate or who might like some additional information should feel free to contact me directly. It is true, this will be the first piece of journalism I've researched on ADD. But this is not my first experience with ADD.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Find your happy (sweaty) place
Breathe deeply. Open your eyes wide. Soak the flirtatious sunshine into your skin. Smile.
These were my mantras the other weekend when I experienced my first taste of B.C. snowboarding.
I moved to Vancouver in August and instantly felt a connection to the peaks towering in the north. Imagining the views and always telling myself that I’d get up there eventually, the days lingered on while stress, anxiety and homesickness rendered me practically captive in my apartment.
Fast forward six months and I have a renewed commitment to being to good to myself. For me, that means exercising.
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| Sunset on Cypress Mountain; photo by Shannon Dooling |
Exercise can create a space void of judgement, stress or anxiety. When I’m snowboarding, my body converses with the mountain’s curves and my mind wanders into a dream of winter wonderland escapades. I know instinctually that this is good for me.
The intimate connection between my mind and my body becomes clear in these spaces. The healthy mind, healthy body connection is something that I know from my own personal experiences. New research also reinforces the important role that physical activity can play in fostering mental health and well being.
The Royal College of Psychiatrists in London describes this connection, explaining “the state of your mind affects your body,” and vice versa. The college offers an example of the cycle that so many of us struggle with everyday:
“You feel tired or depressed - so you do less - so you feel more tired or depressed - so you do even less and miss out on the things you enjoy.”
The research doesn’t suggest that everyone need set their sights on running a marathon or hiking Mt. Everest, but rather that everyone can do something to increase the amount of physical activity in their lives. Whether it’s walking to the grocery store instead of driving or taking the stairs instead of the elevator, the point is to get moving.
The B.C. Healthy Living Alliance is challenging British Columbians to build more active lifestyles. The alliance hopes to help residents achieve these goals by creating “supportive environments that nourish and enhance physical activity.”
Becoming more physically active can lessen depression, anxiety and tension. It can improve sleep patterns, self-esteem, concentration and productivity and perhaps most importantly, it can make people smile.
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