well this is the definition of messed up
is that bad that im crying right now because i am
This makes my eyes leak, so sad.
Uh, this is a fake. The last comic was a Sunday strip of them having fun in the snow. Watterson didn’t even draw this one.
I hate that fake comic with a ferocity that actually makes my mouth go all dry like I’m ready to get in a fight. The implication that Calvin’s belief that Hobbes is real and alive and his friend would go away because of ‘pills’ and a new ability to get his goddamn homework done strikes me as not only ridiculously mean-spirited “haha we’ll take away this kid’s whimsical nature”, but also completely ignorant of what ADD/ADHD and the medication people take for it actually do.
Ritalin, or Adderall - or whatever ‘ADD’ medication that some children need does not under any circumstances take away from a child’s ability to play or imagine or be fanciful!
Nor does it take away an adult’s ability to play or imagine or be fanciful.
I am a creative person. I write mostly, I draw a little. I have an overactive imagination. My stuffed animals have personalities and names and lives. I play pretendy-time games on the internet and write stories about my characters and go forth and slay dragons and I wonder what it would be like if my favorite character from one show went over to talk to the people from other shows because gee, that’d be cool, wouldn’t it? I imagine about space travel and magic and the future. I have a giant brain full of ideas that often go nowhere because my brain is inhibited by a chemical imbalance that keeps me from sitting down and getting shit done.
I struggle - with homework for classes, with projects for work and hobbies, with keeping up with a house full of adult laundry and baby laundry and dishes and bottles and the clutter of life. I often have a hard time making myself get things done and there are more days than not that I really want to be home playing video games and watching television rather than anything else.
However, I am a thirty-seven year old adult who has the measure of a lot of time being utterly miserable in school because I goofed off, and I have a partner who is willing to help me focus when I’m struggling, and I have a great deal of knowledge about how to treat my ADD and what to do to make it easier for myself to focus.
I drink a lot of coffee and tea. I mean, a lot. Caffeine is a line item in my budget.
I was a creative child. I drew mostly, and wrote a little. I had a Calvin-like imagination. My stuffed animals had lives and careers and personalities and names. I played all kinds of ‘pretend’ games and imagined how cool it would be if Commander Spock went over to hang out with The Doctor and they all went around the universe doing neat stuff. Sometimes they went with Kermit the Frog, because I was a weird kid.
I struggled with school. I rarely did homework without being forced or being interested in the assignment, I daydreamed in class and doodled and took really awful notes and was more likely to go home and watch TV and play video games than I was likely to go home and get my homework done. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to stay home from school because school was dull and I had to wear a skirt and I was usually miserable.
I still managed to usually pull in As or Bs until high school and then it was usually Bs with the occasional C. I left the honors program at my high school because I was struggling with it. It had nothing to do with my intelligence. I went from honors to ‘regular’ classes and then I was bored out of my goddamn mind.
By my sophomore year I was asking for help, because I -knew- I was too smart for regular classes and too distracted for honors classes. Instead I got told it was just that I was lazy and needed discipline. If someone at that point had stopped me and said “How would you feel about taking a pill twice a day that would mean you could get your homework done and concentrate in class and not struggle so much?” I would have been all over that.
Somewhere there’s a Karen who got those pills and went to college at 17 like she was supposed to and graduated and didn’t end up pregnant, married, abused, divorced and with a raging case of PTSD. She’s still got an imagination and maybe she wrote one of the billion or so books she kept fiddling with ideas for or maybe she just wrote video games or maybe she switched majors to psychology or maybe she ended up as a computer programmer or taught math.
She still had an imagination, because I’ve taken those pills as an adult and I still had an imagination. She still had whims and fanciful thoughts and wondered what her stuffed animals did while she was asleep and wrote stories about her favorite TV shows and she still drew pictures and still carried around crayons and a sketch pad.
I hate that comic. I hate it, because it is so incredibly wrong about how medication affects people. I don’t hate the person I am. The person I am isn’t timid and the person I am knows how to fight back and the person I know knows damn well what she’s capable of surviving. Maybe a me who got medication didn’t have to learn that and maybe she’s a very different person than I am.
But I know what getting medication would have done for me at fourteen or twelve or nine. I took those pills as an adult. I got my shit done and I still had whims and flights of fancy.
I hate that comic, because it is wrong and there are people reading it right now who will resist giving their children medication or will resist taking it themselves because they “don’t want to lose creativity” and right now I am saying that is bullshit and wrong.
Those pills could have put me back on a path that didn’t end up in a decade of therapy, recurring nightmares and going to college at thirty-fucking-four.
I am off meds now, because I was pregnant, and it wasn’t ideal. I may go back on them. Anyone who thinks my creativity is going to be dulled by it is dead wrong. I will be more creative, because I will be able to get shit done and won’t be burdened with an enormous backpack of distraction and worry about what I haven’t gotten done and what did I forget and oh god I left the stove on and burned the fish sticks.