ENJT with ADHD

1% of women have an ENTJ personality. 2.5% of women have diagnosed ADHD. Nearly all of my strongest strengths and weakest weaknesses are attributable to one or both. While I find it interesting to find bits of myself in all I read, sometimes I have to remember to just "letter go."

Saturday, October 14, 2017

I Think You'll Really Like It

The engine hums and awaits my instructions as I shift the car into reverse.  My toes lift slightly to move from brake to gas when the monotony is broken by the sound of my phone ringing.  It is Adam, which seems strange, since I just barely walked away from him at the end of Dylan's football game.  I figure this means either I left something at the field, or he left something in my car, and I pick up.

"Mom, come over here where I am.  You've got to try this.  I think you'll really like it."  

I hesitate.  I am already in the car.  Already in reverse.  And it is cold out there.  But I am also aware that not all moms get these sorts of invitations, and so I accept.  Zipping my coat, I resolve to try whatever it is he has planned for me.

He goes first, gliding down the paved hill on the awesome wheeled Christmas present from Grandma Fife with ease.  



And being the size of a small teenager has its perks: I can share toys like these with the kids.  We sit down and adjust the wheels down to fit my shoes.  I wheel around a bit at the top where it is flat, relearning how to steer and balance with just two wheels per foot. 

I slip off my coat and set down my phone, considering whether to ask Adam to video.  If it goes well the first time, I think, I will go again and have him capture that run.  In retrospect, I think maybe I should have given more heed to my use of the word "if."

Image result for neon street rollersIt did not go well.  I could tell it from the second I started rolling.  It was faster than I could control.  I panicked.  Adam, overprotective of his mother, tried to run alongside me which only made it worse because I feared I would take us both out.  I made it halfway down the hill, terrified and wobbly and lacking the necessary control to keep both feet pointed straight ahead. 

I wanted desperately to slow down.  But these things don't have brakes.  I looked ahead to the tunnel and thought, if I can just make it there, I will be safe. 

Somewhere between that thought and safety, my intense desire to slow down resulted in a very poor reflexive decision to put down a toe.  You know, the way you do when you are riding a bike and taking a turn too fast, and your body just insists that you increase the amount of human-to-ground contact?  I couldn't seem to resist it any more than I can keep myself from sneezing while driving on the freeway.  I mean, I know how terrifying it is to suddenly close my eyes while driving at least 5 miles over the already speedy speed limit.  And yet - ya just sneeze when ya sneeze. 

I swear I predicted the outcome before I even lowered my toe.  In fact, I am sure I did.  Because past history supports my dad's theory that I have no self-preservation reflexes, and this time before my face hit the rising ground, I got my arms in front of me.  Like a star, I had five points of immediate contact with the ground.  Right knee.  Right hip.  Right elbow.  Left elbow.  Left palm.  My head slammed forcefully enough into my arms that the top of my right forearm is now tender to touch and with a great enough impact that the pain in my head was the first pain I registered.

Dazed, I responded to Adam's inquiries about my well-being with forced giggles and slow breath.  I could feel my body trembling in response to fear, adrenaline, and pain.  I lay there trying to find the courage to move and decided I might as well document the moment.  I asked Adam to take a picture of my failure.  Which he sort of did.  I think he was a little distracted by his mother lying immobile on the ground.

I'm not gonna lie.  The pain after the adrenaline started to recede was all sorts of intense.  But the total damage is only a collection of bruises, a small blood blister, three splotches of road rash, various points of swelling and tenderness, and a hole in the elbow of my favorite hoodie.  Now that I am cleaned up and slathered in triple-antibiotic-ointment-PLUS-pain-relief, I get to consider whether I have any regrets.

Nope.

None.

Also, I am a little bit concerned that hanging out with Adam has a pattern of leading to road rash.


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