Rambling about grief, empathy and ?ADHD

I saw something today about grief and ADHD today, which resonated with me and raised questions.

I don’t know whether I’m actually ADHD, but something isn’t wired correctly! I did a detailed quiz yesterday about ASD and most of it is the polar opposite of how I am, like autism involves a need for planning and clear guidelines, while at work I was happiest being left to just work things out in my own. Autism is associated with literalism, but I confuse people by spontaneously making up ridiculous stories.

Anyway, to get to the point, for a long time I thought there was something deeply wrong with me, because I didn’t know whether I’d feel grief in a normal way, such as when my parents died. When it happened, I felt quite detached initially and in some ways, relieved. I worried that I was cold and devoid of empathy.

When we left after mum’s funeral, I felt like my heart would stop beating, and that I would suffocate unless I stayed awake and concentrated on breathing. It felt horrible, leaving her under the earth in her wicker casket and I couldn’t process it.

It catches me, years later. I see something, like a cricket match, and think I should tell Dad about it. Vivid memories and profound remorse come back to me of times when I was thoughtless to them, and sorrow for all the difficulties they had raising a herd of often troubled kids.

My dad was way out on some sort of spectrum - fiercely bright and able to play two simultaneous chess games without seeing the board, but with a volcanic temper that terrified us all. Things, large and small would get destroyed, from the new fountain pen we had bought him (this happened so often that it was predictable and almost funny), to an entire vegetable border that he had just planted (he went out and dug it all up because mum hadn’t cooked the vegetables he wanted for dinner), to the dining table in his last few years, which got smashed in half, because mum had asked asked him a question he didn’t like. It would have been ok except that he pretended not to hear, so she asked him again.

It can’t have been at all easy for him, or for my mum, with a single income and us all wanting things they mostly couldn’t afford.

When we were all grown up, my sister wanted my parents to move home to be closer to family and went on at them for years about it. On the day my dad died, I drove her up to the hospital where my mum was, hoping to offer some comfort and my sister marched up to her and shouted “if you’d moved when I said, this wouldn’t have happened“. It was horrible to see - I wanted to ease her pain and had no idea how to deal with it.

Anyway, there are aspects when I feel emotionally deficient, but then empathy hits me like a train.

When my seven year old chicken died recently, I was relieved that she had passed quickly after becoming ill, but did and still feel very sad for the remaining two, who are very old in chicken terms. They’re getting extra treats now, but I’m fearful of the day that one of them goes and I have one lonely hen.

When our previous dog was PTS because of a sudden, severe illness, I had the familiar feeling, like my heart would stop, and of imminent suffocation. I thought she’d be my friend for years more.

It feels like the emotions are there after all, but maybe more chaotic than they could be, but maybe this is how human brains work?

8 comments