Perfectly imperfect.

ADHD. It’s the non-existent thing that is very existent.

At least in our lives.

I used to be one of the naysayers. Even as a kid when I knew a few friends who were supposedly hyperactive, I always thought it was a copout.

Their parents were horrible people who just couldn’t handle the gig.

Oh, Jesus. You’re a riot.

I love control. Even if it’s a disillusioned sense of having everything together, I absolutely love it. I think know that’s part of the reason I had to get off social media. I liked the idea of looking good and everyone knowing it.

And really, I think in a sense that’s something we all kind of crave. It’s a ridiculous drug meant to get us hooked and then take us down.

And even though my online presence is much smaller nowadays, I still get the the cravings. I want Ava to listen. I want her to be quiet. I want her to be more like me.

I want her to be perfect.

And here’s the problem with that: there’s no such thing.

For awhile, we were doing medication. She did well with it in the beginning, and it’s something that God introduced, and I was grateful for. She was able to still her body for the first time. She was able to take direction.

She could focus.

But all good things must come to an end and our season ended this summer. The side effects became too much. She started to get headaches and nausea and she wasn’t gaining the weight she needed to. I was done with it. We all were.

And honestly, I wanted her back. Her funny personality and her unchecked courage.

I think there can be a vital good in doctor assessments and medication. But when those things start to feel like a warped crutch that’s doing more harm than good, it’s time to let them go.

So we have this summer. And we’ve begun the journey of behavioral development and growth, not without a few bumps along the way. But overall, this has given me the opportunity to look imperfection in the eye and give it a firm hug.

Just like God does with me.