Attention Deficit Disorder nightmare of GIFT?

I remember at an early age, about six years old going to kindergarten and immediately not feeling right. All the other kids seemed to clique and I just seemed to be in my own world. You probably are wondering how I can remember this. The thing with my ADD is that I can remember far back, but trying to remember things in the moment such as names, directions or school studies were next to impossible. And when I got into magic. Forget about it. I was a total loss when it came to school. I remember one day my dad took me to a magic shop. Magic Inc, Chicago Il. My dad was into gags and little card tricks, but to me it was something that stuck with me. I instantly got hooked. Little did I know that one day magic would save my life.  My mind would just race. I would find myself thinking of what I'll be doing when I get home. Magic fed into my ADD. I'm glad it did because who knows what would of happened if I didn't discover it.

It wasn't long before teachers sensed something wasn't write. I wasn't at the same level as other kindergarteners and was falling behind. Next thing I know I was told by my step mom that I was being held back. I was really to young to understand, but I could tell by her expression that it wasn't good. By first grade I was already being tested so they could better understand what I had. I started having to take these strange tests. Some so off the wall you would think I was a alien or mental patient. The tests made you feel even more incompetent and stupid. I understand that most of the tests are based on logic, but they could confuse someone that didn't even have a learning disability. I started having to go for special help so they could try to get me caught up. I would have to go to a special ed class while the rest of the class would go to art, gym or even recess. I dreaded this the most, because everyday out of the week I would walk the hallway of shame. I would be the last in line on purpose so that when I had to go down the other hall for my ADD help I wouldn't be seen. It didn't take the kids long to figure out somethings up. Talk about felling isolated and separated. I didn't even have a chance to try to even get excepted into a click. This was my life. My HELL. Trying hard to learn, but can't remember a fucking thing. I'm sorry about the swearing, but sometimes swear words have to be said in order to really feel how I fucking felt.

Let me back it up a few years. I was with a family of seven. Mom, Dad, two brothers, two sisters and I. By the time I was 2 my Dad had booked leaving us here with my manic depressant mom. She couldn't hole a job because of her illness. We lived on food stamps and public aid. I was to young to remember so I'm only going on what I was told. We ate rice and had water a lot for meals. We were sometimes sent out to steal food. I was to young or maybe not even born yet.

We moved around the Chicago land area from apartment to apartment because my mom couldn't afford the bills and we would get kicked out. sometimes we would be roaming the streets living shelter to shelter, living in abandoned buildings or staying in churches. We would have to clean church pews just to earn a meal and have a place to stay. Looking back If I could describe my family it would be like living the movie "The Pursuit Of Happiness" Staring Will Smith.

 

Despite my mothers mental issues she really did love us a lot and was determined to keep us together and not separate us. I'm so thankful for that. I just love my family so much. We are all so different and all of us have developed our own self defense mechanism to deal with the pain.  One day my mom had a meltdown and sent us all off to our dads in a taxi. We now were introduced to a whole new life. We had a steady home and food on the table. My dad was a hard worker. He was a cement mason. He had paved many sidewalks on the streets of Chicago with a stamp "Hawkinson" on the sidewalks. My dad had also worked on the high rise building such as the Sears Tower and John Handcock building.

Even though things seemed a little more stable they weren't. I still had trouble in school, my dad was alcoholic and my step-mom was like a drill sergeant. We would literally have room inspection every Saturday. If one sock, shirt, pants, underwear or book wasn't neatly put away or lined up it would be Hell. Psycho mode would kick in and she would tear the whole room apart. By the time she was done the room would be worse of then it was. Our childhood was interesting. Due to the fact that I had both a step-mother and dad that was a alcoholic we had the honor of being dragged every weekend to the neighborhood bar for a beautiful bar filled time of the smell of dirty bleach water from when the floor was mopped of spilt beer and ashes. On a beautiful Saturday or Sunday afternoon you would open the door and you would see a fine fog of  cigarette smoke shinning through the windows making a heavenly path of fog ray climbing toward the heavens. We would walk into the bar and all my dad's and step- moms friends would know us. We would play pinball, play bowling with a flat puck whereyou would throw what looked like throw -up dust onto the table to help the puck slide down so it could hit the pins that would shoot up into the mechanical machine when hit.