Why do I ask?

When I was pregnant with Morgan, I worried that she would inherit my seasonal allergies, that I might have forgotten to take my prenatal vitamin, etc. When she was born, I worried that I would make mistakes that would cause damage to this perfect creation of God. I never worried that she might be "too smart" . . .

Monday, August 31, 2015

gifts and curses of hyper-awareness

I have generalized anxiety disorder, which is far more common than people realize.  I have been treated and "stable" (whatever that means) for many years, but it's part of my daily reality.

Not long after my diagnosis, my psychiatrist told me that I needed to recognize the benefits of the condition.  I snorted, made a sound like,  "pffft!" and said, "benefits?  of my disorder?"  Yeah.  He took it all in stride, not reacting and letting me process the comment.  When he had my attention again, he said something like, "Yes.  You see more than most people.  You notice things others don't, and that is an advantage when you react to the information in a healthy manner.  What you see is there, whether or not other people see it.  You're not imagining things.  You just have more information."

My first reaction was that it was good to hear I wasn't hallucinating.  Unfortunately, hallucinating IS the allergic reaction I can have to some medications I will never take again, so this was comforting.

I thought about those words a long time.  I grew up hearing "you're oversensitive," "you're overreacting," "you're just looking for shock value," "I didn't notice that," "you must be imagining things," etc.  As I began to trust that what I saw was actually there, I learned to react more healthfully to the abundance of information entering my mind all the time.  Not surprisingly, I need my quiet time and time alone every. single. day.  Without it, I just want to scream.  It's overstimulating to the extreme.

M has this same gift/curse of hyper-awareness, although she has not been diagnosed with anxiety.  You know how they say ignorance is bliss?  What does that make our hyper-awareness, I wonder.  I think how we choose to handle it can make it a number of things, but it doesn't automatically produce bliss.  That I know!

I'm not sure how interrelated this might be with giftedness.  They are both neurological, so it's reasonable and logical to think they could be related.

How many highly gifted kids do I know who are hyper-aware in one way or another?  I cannot count them.  Sensory issues are hyper-awarenesses.  Visual memories are definitely hyper-awarenesses.  There are so many . . . .

Kids who are hyper-aware can tend to be perfectionistic.  They can tend to be extremely literal and to correct small inconsistencies.  Those are hyper-reactions.  They might need to move all the time - often called hyper motor disorder.  I'm not even going to try and produce a complete list.  You get the idea.

Bak to M.  She was sitting with a sick relative and they were doing a test.  M got very intense in her watching, but not in her speaking.  I'm not sure what was whirring through that precious head.  I asked the nurse a general question and got a reasonable, calming kind of response.  I didn't believe her because of the "benefits of my disorder."  I saw her eyes.  Awareness is not bliss in this situation.

Two days later, admittance to the hospital happened.  Again.  The day after that, a move to the ICU.  Again.  Instead of stress beginning with the hospital news it began the day of the test for me and my girl.

We have a gradeschool-aged kid, who tests (by an independent tester) as a high school level student, and has the emotional age that ping pongs randomly to either side of her chronological age (depending on the topic), who is now aware that things with a loved one are quite serious.  You can imagine the emotional reactions.  Actually, I hope that you cannot.  Like I said, it's not ignorance and bliss.  Imagine having the intellectual capacity to understand the heightened amount of information you automatically take in, but an emotional capacity that has no idea what to do with it.

These are the types of days I really hope noone in their blissful ignorance says, "That must be so easy for you!" or "How wonderful!  I wish my child was gifted like that!"  On days like this, I wish she wasn't.  On days like this, I think ignorance might be bliss and wish she had more of that.

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