attention deficit disorder evaluation

I loathe feeling resentful. Seems as if there must be a core cause for resentment which, if clearly examined, would disperse that foul emotion like a pungent fart.

Feeling a lot of resentment at work lately. Yuck. Resentment at having my decisions questioned (donapos;t you know who I AMMMMMM???) by my colleagues and even administrators, which comes as a bit of a shock to me, since I am so accustomed to being treated as the font of wisdom, the source of balance, the arbiter of insight. So when people challenge me, I get a mite testy. Upon close examination, those resentments seem to stem from either a sense that my hard work is not being sufficiently appreciated, or from a sense that the person who is challenging me is getting above himself, which I find really odd, since I donapos;t consider myself to be a terribly hierarchical thinker...particularly in comparison to most of the super-Catholics. Those Catholics really do love a good pope. They crave the safety of an ultimate authority.

I also got super-resentful, for good reason this time, when a student whose parents keep SHRIEKING AT ME IN EMAILS TO SAVE THEIR DAUGHTER, despite their unwillingness to follow the protocol that would actually make her officially one of my students. I get a bit fed up with their slacking on their end of the bargain... And then the kid (whom I really do love) has the gall to come in and ask me blithely to stay afterward this Sunday (which is our Open House: I have to sacrifice my whole Sunday to sell the school) to administer a test for her. H-E-L-L-O I just laughed at her. "Then could you come in on Monday to do it?" Monday is the day off weapos;ve been given instead of Columbus Day (excuse me, I meant Dead Indigenous Peoplesapos; Day). I looked at her incredulously.
"I DO have a personal life, you know," I responded with heat. "Yeah, I didnapos;t think it was such a good idea, but my parents wanted me to try."

"Please tell your parents that they are being extremely unreasonable," I replied. She giggled.

Then thereapos;s another resentment, which is purely petty, even I will admit. A colleagueapos;s father just died. He was 73 or so, and had been riding his motorcycle up in the hills a couple of weekends ago, and hit a rail, and that was it. I kinda figure, if he was riding around on a Sunday morning at age 73, he probably didnapos;t want to die in bed. He probably went happy.

Anyhow, the deceased was really a lovely man. He was a psychiatrist, an expert in the same field in which I work, also known as the "neuro-diverse", and he diagnosed and served as therapist for many of my students, and a not-inconsiderable number of my colleagues as well. He came and made a few presentations about ADD to the faculty, years ago, which were vastly entertaining and quite informative. Iapos;ve always been quite fond of him, and apparently the sentiment was returned, because the daughter, my colleague, called me a few days after his death to ask whether the family could list my program as the recipient for any memorial donations. Which is just lovely, and Iapos;m honored, really I am. This woman, my colleague, shared a recent email with me from the mom of one of my students who had been treated by this man in which she waxed MOST effusive in praise of the work I did for her daughter when she was my student. Moreover, to my immense gratification, for she had been a most difficult parent, she accurately identified the goals I had set for my work with her daughter. Gee, maybe I wasnapos;t as subtle as I thought I was being

Anyhow, she recalled how whenever my name arose in conversation, this guy, the dead father, would chuckle, and remark how much he enjoyed me and respected my work. Awwww.

So I donapos;t resent any of that, but I DO resent having to go to the funeral Which, really, I know I have to do. But I am just sick and fucking tired of driving down the Peninsula And none of the carpoolians are around to share the misery I just want to sit home and potter in my little garden in preparation for the apos;rentsapos; visit next weekend. Sheesh

Ok, bitch sesh over. Me and my pity-party are going away now. Pthffffft

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