Unconditional Love in Unconventional Way

“My life found I gotta live for the right now. Time waits for no man, can't turn back the hands once it's too late, gotta learn to live with regrets. You used to hold me, told me that I was the best. Anything in this world I want I could possess. All that made me want is all that I could get. In order to survive gotta learn to live with regrets...” Jay Z.

For so long I have had feelings of guilt over my mother’s death. I was so angry when she passed away. I was mad because she was an alcoholic and I felt as if she no longer cared about her family. Alcoholism consumed my mother until the day that she died. Everyone tells me to remember the good things about her and I try, but those times were so long ago. I was a child, maybe six or seven years old the last time I remember my mother being truly happy. The above picture is how I like to remember my mother. She was happy, full of life and always smiling, but even then I remember there being so much turmoil. I remember all of the arguing and fighting between her and my father and they could find just about anything to argue about: food, Kool-Aid, bills, me, my brother our dog, the house, the chores, work, television, etc... I mean just about anything and most of their “fights” ended with the police knocking at our door. I remember thinking to myself when I have the chance to get out, I ain’t ever coming back and I didn’t.

I left for the University of Cincinnati (UC) in 1997 and I have lived in Cincinnati ever since, only returning for breaks, holidays and an occasional weekend visit. Cleveland holds so many wonderful memories of my childhood but also a lot of heartbreak: my parent's divorce, my father's denial, my mother's alcoholism, and bad relationships with previous boyfriends, so much pain. By the time I got to UC I was over the feeling of being annoyed, angry, and even embarrassed by my parents and their behaviors. I was numb to it all. Ever since I can remember I made jokes about their behavior to cover up my pain. I never wanted people to have the first punch or the last laugh. I struck first to let people know that I knew my family was dysfunctional, I got the last laugh and even though I cried inside you would never know it. In fact many people considered me strong...I was so fragile back then, but these were my parents and I didn’t get to choose them but I do have choices. I knew that then, but I know better now.

I made the choice to stop visiting my mother mid-sophomore year. When friends would call and say, Nicki you gotta come home and take care of your mother, she is not doing well; I made the choice to say no, she’s just drinking, pour out the alcohol, give her some food and she will be okay. When she would call, I made the choice to have my roommates tell her I was in class and when she was hospitalized a week prior to her death I made the choice in believing her when she said that she would be okay and I stayed in Cincinnati, but like me she covered up her pain, masked the fact that she knew she was dying and told me she was fine. However, I made the choice to believe her as I had so many times before. Maybe she did not want me to see her the way she was, maybe she knew I was upset. I don't know what she thought but I had made those choices, like she made the choice to drink and alienate herself from her family and friends, at least this is what I told myself to make myself feel better about the choices I made. When my mother passed away I heard two things day after day, her voice from our last phone call telling me she would be fine and to finish my finals and It Will Rain by Kelly Price. I walked around the day she passed in disbelief, because we had just spoke 5 days prior and she told me she was fine. However, I made the choice to stay away. Not seeing my mother for almost 6 months before she passed.

Why, was the question I have been asking myself since her death almost 10 years ago…why did I refuse to talk to her...why did I not go home to see her…why was I so selfish…why did I let this happen? Why did I let this happen…that is a big question for me, as if I had a way to stop it from happening, but I truly believed that had I been there I could’ve protected her as I did when I was little. My mother smoked cigarettes, Newport was her brand, and I was scared that she was going to die like a friend’s mother so I would break her cigarettes in half and put them back in the box. She would grab one and the butt would be the only thing that would come out. When she started drinking, or at least when I realized it, I would pour all of the liquor out of the bottle and replace it with water. I got in so much trouble doing those things but in my mind I was protecting her. The point is I made choices that I cannot change and as I sit her trying to overcome the guilt that I have behind my mother’s death I realize that no matter what problems my mother had, her love was unconditional but it took her death for me to realize that.

My mother the great! She attended school plays, games, cheerleading competitions, conferences, and my first week of college. She made a big deal of holidays, birthdays, prom and whatever else I wanted to do. Send care packages to school filled with all the things I loved. She’d give her last to make my dreams come true. As a mother I now understand the importance of being in the now for your child. She was always in the now with me, knowing what was going on and asking how I was feeling about every aspect of my life. Even as she got deeper and deeper into her alcoholism she was there for me, but I was too young, too selfish, and too ungrateful to realize that her love was unconditional. I could call her any time of the day and she would be there to talk to me, walk me through a messy breakup, an argument with a girlfriend, a headache, or just uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. I turned 31 last year and I am still getting over the death of my mother. I cannot change the choices I made and knowing that I have to live with them has proven to be difficult. As I have grown older, I’ve found the only things I regret are the things I didn’t do or didn’t say.

So I will say them now. Mommy I am sorry. Mommy I love you. Mommy you were right about so many things.

"We should regret our mistakes and learn from them,

but never carry them forward into the future with us"

The Face of ADHD

A few years ago my son’s Kindergarten teacher told me that I should have him tested for Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) or as it is most commonly diagnosed in children, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) as he had a difficult time focusing on day-to-day tasks. I laughed and thought he’s five years old, aren’t they all supposed to be bouncing off walls? From that on I was skeptical about any person who suggested that my son had ADD/ADHD. In first grade Azaan’s grades were excellent, nothing but A’s. His teacher stated he was a model student, no behavior problems, but that he couldn’t sit still and when he was finished with his work would talk. She suggested we get him tested, I suggested he was bored. In Kindergarten and First grade Azaan had always excelled in Language Arts. In Kindergarten he was placed in a first grade reading class and in first grade placed in a second grade reading class. Grades were clearly not an issue then, but both teachers stated if we did not get his hyperactivity under control we were headed for destruction.

In the second grade we switched Azaan to a Montessori school, because he was excelling in so many other areas, we believed this would allow him to take on the challenges of grade work a level above his own. He had to be recommended by a teacher who thought he was capable of the work. His first grade teacher gave the recommendation but also stated that if his hyperactivity is due to ADHD that it would be brought out even more in a Montessori environment. Montessori schools allow children to work on work a grade level above their own, but they require great independence and attention to detail. Not knowing much about ADHD then and skeptical about having my son labeled we moved forward with testing him into Montessori. He tested in and the school administration thought this would be a perfect fit for him. However, his First grade teacher was right about Montessori bringing ADHD out more. His adjustment from a traditional school to a Montessori school was the calm before the storm and when ADHD struck it was like Hurricane Katrina. Unfortunately it was during Second grade that his grades began to suffer.

Being a parent who still believes African American boys are being misdiagnosed with ADD/ADHD at an alarming rate I was skeptical to even have Azaan tested. I’ve never believed in medicating children and had not heard of any alternative treatments, but that first year of Montessori was so bad I had to do something. I mean what do you do when you look at your then 6 year old son and see his grades suffering because he tends to hyper-focus on everything in sight and within his listening range? How do you accept a diagnosis of ADHD, especially when you are skeptical whether or not it is real? Well I've seen it and now believe it is real, how to treat my now 8 year old son is now my concern.

Given the diagnosis I read many books on ADHD and learned that Montessori schools are some of the most effective learning environments for children with ADHD because it teaches them to organize, give attention to detail and most importantly focus in on their work. While it is effective in the aforementioned areas it can be extremely difficult for someone who has untreated ADHD because there is a lot of movement around the room and children are allowed to talk using soft voices. In addition to reading we’ve tried behavioral and family-group therapy, behavior modifications of all types including for myself and my husband, punishments, making both his school and home environments more structured, change in diet and bed time, limits on TV and video games and nothing has brought his grades up, in fact they’ve gotten worse. Family therapy helped with raising his self esteem as now he understands he is not the only one who has a hard time focusing on one activity. But what is a parent to do when they struggle with how to effectively treat their child’s symptoms and shutters at the mere thought of medication?

I’ve heard stories that made me hopeful for Azaan as well as scared, read about stars that’ve learned to manage and live with ADHD without medicating. I’ve talked to parents who choose not to medicate and how wonderful their child/children are doing but guess what, none of their stories are a cookie cutter replica to my son and his behaviors. No two stories are alike, and I feel like I've heard them all. From the, "my daughter is a successful lawyer who was never medicated," or "my son is a college football player with good grades, he saw a psychologist throughout school, and was never medicated" and my two favorites, "I P.U.S.Hed, you know Prayed Until Something Happened or the most common response from many African Americans "I just beat it out of him." I talked to a woman who said that her son became strung out on his medication by age 16 and that she blamed herself. I saw on dateline where a little boy developed heart condition from the use of his ADHD medication. I've heard that once you start with these kinds of medications that your child will be on them for the rest of his/her life. Trust me, I've heard it all, but still the question remains, how do I help Azaan. None of these people are my son and while the stories can be both encouraging and extremely scary, they are not Azaan's stories and nor do they have to be.

I’ve known for several years that Azaan was far more active then most children his age. He was also not your typical child, talking before one, potty trained about 18 months, reading before Kindergarten, and strong willed almost to the point of defiance. Yes, Azaan is not your typical child, sometimes in conversation you may forget you are speaking to an eight year old. Ever since his Kindergarten teacher suggested he be tested I questioned but how, he is so intelligent. However, I was in denial because no parent wants to believe there is something wrong with their child. I’ve come to understand that ADHD does not mean broken, defective, or unintelligent; it just means different. We all have many gifts; this is yet another one of Azaan’s gifts. Albeit hard to unwrap, it’s still a gift.

There are so many faces to ADHD and we still don’t believe that it is real. As both a parent with a son who has the gift of ADHD and a teacher who has several students who have been diagnosed with ADHD, it is real and lives within our children. Early on I said I didn’t believe in medicating children and trust me I’ve gone back and forth about how to most effectively treat Azaan’s ADHD symptoms. However, since nothing has proven to be effective, I am more open to discuss medication as an option to treatment of Azaan’s ADHD symptoms.

As parents it is our job to educate, protect, love and care for our children and as Azaan’s mother I will do whatever it takes to help him be the BEST Azaan he can be, and if medication plays a part in assisting him to become the next great whatever he wants to be, then so bid. "Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children" and I want Azaan's memory to be of his father and I always fighting and doing what's best for him no matter what.