This book is a loving apology to my mother, Sigrid

This book is a loving apology to my mother, Sigrid.

I was always trouble as a boy, growing up in Garryowen in Limerick, Ireland. That’s when I was known as Martin Faul and hadn’t changed my name yet. I was a real bold rebel of a kid but I had my reasons. I had ADHD, or severe hyperactivity, and was I also dyslexic. It was so bad that by sixth class I could barely read and write my own name. I always felt different from everyone else and got terribly bullied for being a ‘ stupid freak.’ In the end I got sick of the cruelty of humans. One night I climbed out my window and ran away. I ended up living rough on the streets with a pack of six stray dogs for three years. I wrote this book as a heartfelt apology to my beloved mammy, Sigrid Faul, who never stopped trying to get me to come home and worried herself sick over me. Sadly, she passed away from cancer when I was in my early twenties.

I’ve always carried some guilt around that I put my mother through far too much emotional stress and this book has been my way of working through these feelings. She was an amazing woman and extremely beautiful. A German university student, she fell in love with and my Irish father while studying at the London School of Economics. They married and moved to Garryowen in Limerick, Ireland and settled down and had eight children. Three of us – Andrew, John and I – were identical triplets. Here she is with my dad when she came home from hospital with us triplets.   

 

It could be very tricky being an identical triplet. You don’t have much privacy or individuality and we were constantly scrapping over everything. There was a definite pecking order. John was the boss, Andrew was next in importance and I was the runt and always came last. It soon became apparent that I was different. Like I said earlier, I had ADHD which stands for Attention-Deficit-Hyperactivity-Disorder, otherwise known as severe hyperactivity and was extremely dyslexic.

Everyone’s seen ADHD kids in action. They’re the kids you knew back at school who wouldn’t sit still in class. They annoyed people till they had no friends left. They constantly caused the teacher to shout and tear at their hair. Drove their parents crazy doing stupidly reckless things. Even today, society doesn’t understand how powerful the ADHD condition is. People believe the child simply needs to learn more will power, but it’s actually a chemical reaction going on inside their brain and body and real strategies are needed to cope with this difficult disorder. Many mothers usually end up being the ones who have to deal with an ADHD child because the father often has it too. Unfortunately, most mothers feel constantly feel helpless because they don’t know how to help them. It’s also extremely exhausting to deal with – and causes huge strains on families and relationships because it’s impossible to keep up with the energy of someone with ADHD.

My story that I became a success and settled down happily to find my niche in life has helped a lot of mothers who have a child with ADHD. They constantly contact me by email to say thank you for helping people understand the condition better and let me know they’ve found my career achievements very inspiring. ADHD children are exhausting to live with and care for – so inspirational stories give these mothers fresh, new energy to tackle yet another day of draining drama.

My own mother, Sigrid, was an angel and constantly worried herself sick over me. She tried to reason with me all through my childhood, trying to get me to stop being so hyperactive and doing reckless things. However, my untreated condition was too severe for reasoning. Things weren’t helped by the fact that my father used to drink heavily and became violent – or that I was so dyslexic, that I couldn’t even read and write my own name. Unfortunately I had two real bullies of teachers and they made my life complete hell at school, openly mocking me and beating me when I couldn’t learn anything. Worse, because we were identical triplets and my mother was German – locals in the neighborhood started taunting us that we were freaks and ‘Hitler’s secret experiments’. As I grew older, I really began to feel like an outsider – especially because my brothers had no problems behaving or learning.  It was only me. This made everyone even angrier at me and made me feel more stupid and useless. It wasn’t long before the only creatures who really liked and understood me beside my mother were dogs. Luckily our family had two giant German Shepherds, Major and Rex, and they became my best friends and protectors.

Here I am in 1974, when I was 12, the year before I ran away from home. It’s my hurling team – which is an ancient Irish sport. I’m second from the right, bottom row. John is fourth from the right bottom row and Andrew is 3^rd from the left, bottom row.

 

One day, my life seemed just too difficult to cope with any more. My father’s drinking was getting more violent and erratic. Worst of all, my teachers were going to make me repeat primary school and start me back in kindergarten again because I was incapable of reading and writing. However, there was no way I was going to stay behind while my brothers went on to high school without me. Things weren’t any better out of school: I was starting to stand up to the local neighborhood bully kids and it seemed like I was making more human enemies whichever way I turned.

All I wanted to do was get on with my life in peace but no one would leave me alone. The bullying became unbearable. One night I’d had enough. When I climbed out my bedroom window, I knew exactly where to go. I ran away to the outskirts of Garryowen where I knew the stray dogs of the area hung out at night. Not as many people desexed their dogs back then so there were always a surprising amount of strays.

As soon as I’d run away and joined up with the street dogs roaming the area – I knew I’d made the right decision. All the stress of the human world instantly seemed to roll right off me and I felt like I could finally relax and be myself. I’d always felt at peace around dogs. They liked my hyperactive energy. They thought I was fascinating to watch because I always did such unexpected things and I was always kind to them. I knew I’d never feel alone around dogs. That was in 1975.

I ended up living rough around the Garryowen railway line and countryside for three years. During the first few months, I hooked up with six stray dogs and they became my best friends and family. Together we became a real pack, though I preferred to call us a gang. We crept into farmers hay barns at night, burying ourselves down deep in the hay to stay warm and dry. We scrounged around the local farmhouses and out of the housing estate bins for food. I also stole milk and bread off people’s doorsteps before they woke up in the morning. Every night I climbed the locked fence of the local knackers, Mullins Yard, to steal meat and bones for my dogs – and they adored me for it.

These three years living rough with my pack of dogs changed me forever. They were hard years in many ways – it really isn’t romantic being wet, cold and hungry. However, they were also years of such incredible freedom and adventure. I had no one to tell me what to do, no one getting angry or frustrated at me. No drunk, yelling dad or bullying, screaming teachers. There were no chores or dreaded school to deal with – and not even my well-meaning brothers bossing me about. Instead, I roamed with the dogs all over the countryside around Limerick exploring. The dogs were amazing and in many ways became my mentors – teaching me about manners and responsibility. Courage and loyalty. Friendship and family. They also taught me how to communicate in their own language which gave me a skill I had that other people didn’t know. This gave me great confidence and helped me understand that I wasn’t stupid – I just happened to learn things differently to other people.

However, at the back of mind was always that sad, gut-churning guilt over my mother who was distraught and never stopped trying to get me to return home. This part of my life always fills me with shame. She had a full time job as a manager of a hotel restaurant, eight children and a husband who drank – and yet she still worried herself sick over me. She simply wanted me to find my own safe place in the world – I realise that now. She was clearly terrified I’d end up becoming a drug addict, a homeless person for the rest of my life or committing suicide like too many other boys did back then.

However, all the lessons and morals she’d taught me as a young boy had sunk in so I stayed safe while I was living rough. My best friend, Brandan, who was concerned about my mother’s health, finally persuaded me to return home. This was a difficult decision for me – but ultimately, I did return. I knew that no matter how much I loved my freedom with my dogs – I owed her peace of mind. So I returned home and she was lovely about it – never berating me for my runaway years and always encouraging me to be my best. Unfortunately, her life was hard. She’d lived through the war, had eight children, put up with my dad who she loved fiercely and then had to deal with me. She got sick, contracting cancer and died when I was in my early twenties.

I wrote my memoir partly as a way of saying thank you to her for all the kind, patient help she gave me over the years and also as a way of dealing with my feelings of guilt.

I also hope my story might help people understand ADHD a little better. Being forced to sit still in a classroom for hours on end, staring at a blackboard and simply listening to a teacher drone on is virtually impossible for kids with ADHD. I’d love the education systems around the world to come up with a better alternative. They’ll look back at how they treated children with ADHD and see this as the dark ages in education – truly barbaric – and I shudder to think how many children fell through the cracks of such an outdated system. All those thousands upon thousands of untreated children who never stopped believing they were stupid – and this untrue belief affected them for the rest of their life.

But hey! Don’t worry about my book being dark and sad – far from it! I’m such an optimistic and energetic person – and my story bounces along like I do through life, looking for the humor in everything. That’s why my stray dogs followed me everywhere – I was great fun to hang around with – and always up for a reckless adventure and a laugh!

I know my mother, Sigrid, would be extremely proud of the man I am today. The Boy Who Talked To Dogs is a great life-story and really captures the noisy, fun side of living in a big family – especially when you throw identical triplets into the mix. My book was first published in New York and is now published in Australia, North America, Canada and Brazil. I was signed by the prestigious Writers House literary agency in New York – which isn’t bad for a kid who was constantly called Stupid Boy by his teachers – and who could barely write his own name when he was in sixth class.

I think of my beloved Mammy every single day and named my first-born daughter Sigrid after her. Funnily enough, my daughter really resembles my mother in every way – her classic Nordic looks and strong, kind, organized and efficient personality. She’s now studying law at university and writing Young Adult fiction in her spare time. She’s a wonderful girl! I have four kids altogether, none have ADHD and we’re very close. You can see my son Fintan on the front cover of my book:

 

He’s now the same age I was when I was living rough on the streets. Somehow Lee my amazing wife manages the whole lot of us with great finesse. I’m always in awe of mothers with children – they have to remember so much and organize everything – without them the world would completely crumble and fall apart! My children mean everything to me – and they found this book a real help in understanding me better. My only regret is that my beloved mother didn’t get a chance to see that all the life lessons she taught me over the years paid off and I made it. More than that – I’m thriving. I can look myself in the mirror every day, knowing my darling Mammy – would be very proud of the fine man I’ve turned into.

*This is the biggest practical tip I can share with mothers with an ADHD child of any age, even an adult:

I’ve found the most serious problem about having ADHD, is that you use up so much energy being hyperactive, you constantly sugar-crash. This makes you to become angry or zombie-like and extremely irritable. This is the dangerous period of time when you make crazy, reckless decisions.

My simple tip is this: Eat healthy extra snacks constantly with plenty of super-energy like meat, cheese, porridge, healthy breakfast cereal, nuts or bananas. Foods like these will quickly help restore your blood sugar levels. If only I’d known this simple tip earlier – I would have avoided so many dramas in my life! Even now, I have to really watch my blood sugar levels – especially if I have to use my brain, or do something strenuous. Basically – after every medium to big task I do – I eat something containing lots of healthy energy. When you have ADHD, you’ve got to keep refueling your body or you’ll crash! Mothers, wives and girlfriends can help their children or partners with ADHD plan their food ahead and make sure it’s always in easy reach. My wife and kids help remind me – and it definitely works. There’s a lot less drama in my life these days simply because I learned to eat constantly and properly.