More Than Enough - Tales from Bark Mountain

In this Tales from Bark Mountain, a soccer injury brings the firefighters to the side of eleven-year-old Emily. 
In the ambulance on the way to the hospital, Emily discovers something unexpected: Firefighter Dazzle understands what it’s like to grow up with ADHD.

It’s a story for every child who has ever felt different, struggled to keep up, or wished their brain worked like someone else’s.

This episode reminds us that a diagnosis may explain a part of our story, but it will never define who you are.

This Tales from Bark Mountain episode was created and narrated by Steve Serbic

Music from Bensound.com

License code: JOMKAMTPZ2OJIAIF

Artist: : Benjamin Tissot

Check out goosethefiredog.com for pictures and more stories 

Transcript

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SPEAKER_00 0:11

Welcome to another tale from Bark Mountain. It was a sunny Saturday morning in Bark Mountain. Across town, the Bark Mountain Soccer Complex was already filled with families. Whistles blew, parents cheered, and soccer balls bounced across the green fields. At the Bark Mountain Fire Hall, the firefighters were just finishing breakfast when the tone sounded. Sports injury at the Bark Mountain Soccer Complex, the dispatcher said. Minutes later, engine eleven rolled out onto the country road, followed by Rescue eleven and Chief One. As they arrived, Fire Chief Steve spotted a group of young players gathered near one of the goals. Goose got out of Fire Chief Steve's truck and raced ahead. As the firefighters arrived at the group of kids, the girls all moved aside. The firefighters saw an eleven year old goalkeeper lying on the ground, holding her left arm perfectly still. Her name was Emily. Goose carefully walked up close and sat beside her. Hi, puppy, Emily whispered. Goose's tail tapped gently against the grass. Firefighter Dazil knelt down, and she said, This is Goose. And then asked, What happened? I tried to stop a goal, and I collided with another player and landed on my shoulder, Emily said. Can you move your arm? Dazil asked. Emily tried, but her face tightened. No, she said. Okay, Dazil said. Don't move it anymore. We're here now. It's gonna be okay. Dazil saw the ambulance arriving in the parking lot. Paramedic Polly knelt down and asked, What happened as he carefully examined Emily? I'm not sure, but my shoulder really hurts, she said. As Polly examined her shoulder, you've definitely injured your shoulder, Emily, and it may be separated. So we are going to need to take you to the hospital. Emily's eyes started to fill with tears. But my parents aren't here, she said. The coach has already called them. They're on their way, Fire Chief Steve assured her. Emily reached over and squeezed Dazil's hand. Will you come with me to the hospital until my parents get there? Before Dazil could answer, Chief Steve responded immediately. Absolutely she will, he said. Inside the ambulance, Dazil sat beside Emily. As it drove out of the parking lot, neither of them spoke. Emily looked down at her soccer cleats. I hope I can play again, she said. Don't worry, Dazil said. It might take some time, but you'll be playing soccer in no time. Emily smiled. Soccer is one of the few things I'm really good at, she said. Dazil tilted her head. What makes you say that? Because school is really hard for me. I forget instructions, I can't sit still, and other kids seem to understand things faster than I do. I really love playing soccer, Emily said. It's one of the few things I enjoy and I'm good at. I have a tutor for school. My parents told me I have ADHD. Dazil smiled. So do I, she said. Emily's head snapped up. You do? I sure do, she said. But you're a firefighter, Emily asked. And before that, I was a trapeze artist, Dazil said. You were? Emily said in amazement. Dazil laughed. When I was your age, school was really hard for me too. I forgot things, I struggled to concentrate, and sometimes my thoughts were like ten trapeze artists swinging through my brain at exactly the same time. Emily and Dazil both laughed. That's exactly what it feels like sometimes. But you know what the hardest part for me was? Dazil said. Emily shook her head. For a long time because things were harder for me, I always thought there was something wrong with me. Emily's smile disappeared. Sometimes I feel like that, she said. Dazil squeezed her hand. Then I need to tell you something I wish someone had told me when I was eleven. Emily looked up at her. Needing help doesn't mean there's something wrong with you, Dazil smiled. Some kids need glasses to see the board. Some need to hear instructions more than once. Some need to move while they're learning, some kids learn by reading, some by listening, and others by doing. And some of us, Dazil added, have brains that take the scenic route. Emily giggled. Mine definitely does, she said. Mine too, Dazil said, as she leaned in closer. When I got older, I learned a really big word, neurodivergent. Have you ever heard of that word before? No, Emily said as she shook her head. It means some brains work differently. They might learn differently, concentrate differently, and notice things other people don't notice. And sometimes they just need more time with certain things. Emily hesitated and asked. Absolutely not, Dazzle said. Different doesn't mean less. For a moment Emily was quiet. Then Dazzle continued. ADHD can make things harder. We shouldn't pretend that it doesn't, but hard and impossible are two very different things. When I joined the circus, I had no confidence. I forgot instructions, and I fell into the safety net more times than I can count, and everybody seemed to learn faster than me. What did you do? Emily asked. I just kept coming back and trying again and again until one day I climbed high above the circus floor and I made my first trapeze transfer. Emily's eyes widened. Were you scared? Terrified Dazil laughed. What happened? Emily said. Dazil smiled. I jumped, and then I caught the other trapeze and landed on the platform on the other side of the circus. For the first time I wasn't thinking about a diagnosis or a kid who struggled in school or my ADHD. I was just Dazzle. Emily looked down. Maybe soccer is like that for me, she said. Emily, let me tell you something. No one should have to save a goal, get an A, swing from a trapeze, or become a firefighter to prove their worth. I'm already worthy, Emily, without the trapeze or the fire department. Just like you're worthy without soccer. As the ambulance became quiet, Emily looked up at Dazil, her eyes welled up. Sometimes kids make fun of my ADHD, Emily said. Dazil shook her head. They're missing the most important part of your story. You're Emily. You're a goalkeeper, a teammate, a daughter, a friend. Emily started to smile. And judging by the save you tried to make today, you're pretty darn brave too. Emily laughed. That's five things I already know about you. And we just met ten minutes ago, Dazil said. Imagine all the things about yourself you haven't discovered yet. You're one of the coolest kids I've met in a long time. Emily turned her head and stared out the ambulance window. Then she turned back. You really believe that, she said. Dazil smiled with all my heart as she squeezed Emily's hand. Weeks later, the Bark Mountain firefighters returned to the soccer complex. There was Emily on the other side of the soccer field. Her arm was in a sling. She wasn't ready to play yet, but she was healing. When she spotted the crew from Rescue eleven, she waved. Goose jumped off the truck and raced towards Emily. Goose, Emily said, as she wrapped her good arm around him. Dazzle walked over. How's school? Still hard sometimes, Emily admitted. But now I'm getting extra help, I write down my instructions, and the teacher lets me take movement breaks. Emily smiled and said, I'm starting to understand that needing to do something differently doesn't mean I'm doing it wrong. Dazil felt a lump rise in her throat. No, she said softly, it doesn't. Emily thought for a moment. Dazil, until I met you, I spent a lot of time wishing I had someone else's brain. Dazil knelt down beside her. You don't need someone else's brain. You just need people to understand yours, Dazil said. For the first time the word different didn't sound like something Emily needed to hide. It sounded like something she could learn to be proud of. As Dazil squeezed her hand, she said, Never let a label convince you that it tells your whole story. ADHD might explain some of the things that are difficult for you, but they don't explain how smart you are, how brave you are, and what kind of friend you'll be, or how far you'll go. As Goose rested his head against Emily's leg, she smiled and patted him. And that afternoon, the firefighters of Bark Mountain knew this to be true. A diagnosis can help explain how your brain works, but it can never explain everything about you. It cannot measure your kindness, your imagination, your courage, or all the dreams you're still growing into. So if you're struggling, ask for help and learn what helps your brain and find people who see more in you than the things you struggle with. Learn and believe in your brain and give it a chance to show you what it can do. Because maybe your brain doesn't work exactly like everyone else's. Maybe some of the things that make you different today will one day become the very things that help you find your path forward. Because the world doesn't need another version of everybody else. It needs you. Thank you for listening. Please check out goostofiredalk.com for more stories and pictures. Every Sunday the crew gathers around for another tale from Park Mountain. Please join us. Good morning, good day, good night, little firefighters everywhere.