The last year has been one of those periods in my life, like leaving high school or moving out or becoming a parent, that will forever change who I am and how I view myself. But rather than being an external change that affected my life, this past year’s discovery has helped me change my view of who I have always been. It turns out this can be as big of a shift as any major life event or change in situation.
I’ve always felt different. As a child I had a really hard time fitting in. At the time, I thought it was because I was different in obvious ways. I had one of those mothers I now respect, who put a lot of effort into what she fed me. She fed me whole grains and organic vegetables and tofu before it was cool. But when I was a kid and everyone else had wonderbread sandwiches, it made me stick out like a sore thumb and felt like torture. On top of which I didn’t dress like the other kids. A lot of my clothes came from second-hand stores or were hand-made. Again, something which seems lovely to me as an adult, but when the rest of the kids were in the latest trends (at the time ruffly skirts and shiny neon leggings and perms) again, I felt like I could never be like the other girls.
On top of this, my parents were immigrants. They immigrated from England, so spoke the same(ish) language, and theoretically came from a similar cultural background. But for me it felt like we spoke a different language and had entirely different customs. This I was somewhat aware of – apparently I had an English accent until I began kindergarten, at which point I told my parents I wanted to talk like the other kids and promptly changed my entire way of speaking. But I don’t think I understood how the cultural differences set me apart. I don’t think I understood that until very recently.
But it went deeper than any of those things. I had trouble focusing in school – I’d daydream and stare out the window, taking in just enough to be able to figure out the work on my own later. I often missed social cues, ending up the butt of all the games girls play to improve their own social standing, and was often laughed at for things I didn’t fully understand. I changed schools in grade one, and this further alienated me from my peers as a new kid to groups that had already been established in preschool and kindergarten. I found it really hard to connect to anyone, and now that I look back, I can see that I didn’t really have friends for years. I got used to lots of manipulative ploys like, “I’ll only be your friend if you do…” that I didn’t understand wasn’t real friendship but that I did understand didn’t make me feel good. But at least I wasn’t alone.
Elementary school was one of the most difficult and miserable times of my life. I had constant anxiety, dreaded each day, got bullied and felt adrift in a sea of confusion. By high school I did have some friends, but they were usually a bit transitory and more based on convenience than real connection (another thing I didn’t realize until later in life when I was able to actually choose my friends). High school was also when my ability to figure out school on my own began to fall apart, particularly in math and science classes. I’d do well for the beginning of each year, but by mid-semester (or mid-quarter, depending on the school) I would inevitably feel like I’d missed a crucial piece upon which all further lessons built. I’d go from easy As to, with much more work, Bs by the end of the year. Which was still good, but felt like a failure because I was trying my hardest, and it wasn’t enough to get me where I wanted to be.
And I found the entire experience exhausting. Trying to make sense of all the social dynamics and intricacies around me, trying to figure out who I needed to be to fit in, how to avoid the worst of the social pitfalls and sidestep the worst of the bullying, how to seem – at least on the surface – to be like everyone else and not show any of the uncertainty, confusion, or insecurity this all caused was extremely taxing. I now know that there’s a term for this – masking. But at the time I didn’t know that my experience wasn’t like everyone else’s, and that it really was harder for me for reasons entirely beyond my control.
All of this led to becoming a young adult who was extremely insecure about my abilities, who never felt like I fit in, who had trouble establishing true connections and who had to work really hard to attain success in any pursuit that wasn’t naturally interesting to me. This combined with a medical emergency that sent me to hospital, only to return home with a lifelong chronic medical condition, my parents’ divorce, moving twice and going to three different high schools all left me struggling to find solid footing. By the end of high school I was in a pretty dark place. I now realize I was suffering from both depression and probably the early stages of anxiety. I managed to fumble my way through, going from one unfulfilling job to another, moving frequently, not really finding a firm group of people or any kind of support network that lasted and feeling completely without any direction. But I got by. I paid my bills. I held down jobs. I took care of myself (mostly). I eventually found a college on my second try that I loved and where I was finally able to feel good at something – it had small classes, engaging teachers and choosing my own topics meant that for the first time in my life I really was good at school without feeling lost by the end. I got excellent grades. But I still didn’t know where I was going. Once I finished university I ended up in a job I didn’t like, and eventually quit to try and find a new path. But before that came together, I got pregnant and an entirely unexpected path suddenly appeared. Everything else was put aside so I could focus on taking care of myself and my baby, and managing my medical issues as well as I could. It was hard, both physically and emotionally. And that was just the beginning.
I had a hard time after becoming a mom. I had post-partum depression and anxiety along with PTSD from a traumatic birth experience. The first couple of years were extremely hard, while also being absolutely magical. This combination of experiences was difficult to manage, because I felt guilt for my inability to cope, I didn’t understand why it was so hard for me, and carried a lot of shame for feeling like I was letting down my child and my partner. I also felt like it was some kind of horrible thing to both love my child and treasure every moment we had together, but also find being a mother to be extremely difficult, as if it meant I loved my child less (it didn’t). I tried all kinds of things – a few different therapists, medication, got help from a local organization that supports moms and leaned into help from my own parents (who saved me and to whom I’m more grateful than I’ll ever be able to express for putting up with me and being there when I needed help). As time went on, and I started to recover mentally, I started to feel like there was something more going on. I was struggling with things like organizing my home, managing all the tasks I needed to do each day, not getting snappy when I felt (constantly) overwhelmed, keeping track of things, feeling burned out by the constant demands on my mental and emotional energy. I wondered if I had something like borderline personality disorder or some other combination of mental health issues that were compounding my experience. I also felt like maybe none of that was the case, and I was just failing completely because I wasn’t good enough.
Over the past year or so, I started looking into neurodiversity, partly because I started wondering if some of the things I was seeing in my kid could be due to a brain that works differently. In researching this (and talking to a friend), I also started to see things in myself that fit into neurodiversity as well. Over time I looked at all kinds of different types of neurodivergent experiences. Most either didn’t fit or only partially fit. There were some I didn’t even consider – like ADHD. My concept of ADHD was very much in line with the stereotypical idea of a hyperactive young boy who is bouncing off the walls, full of energy, unable to do well in school and constantly getting into trouble. This is not and never was me. It’s not my kid either, but the lack of focus we had observed and the difficulty with emotional regulation did lead to further research. And what I discovered changed everything.
I found out that there are different types of ADHD. There’s the primarily hyperactive type (the more stereotypical presentation), but also inattentive type which is characterized by a more internal set of symptoms that aren’t necessarily obvious from the outside. And there’s a combined type that’s a more even presentation of both. I also learned that while people with ADHD are given a diagnosis of primarily one of these types, it will be different for every person who has ADHD. Some will have primarily hyperactive presentation, but also have trouble with inattention and disorganization and racing thoughts. Or someone with primarily inattentive type might also get very restless at times and have trouble sitting still. It’s a very complex condition. I also learned that its trademark is actually the presence of opposing characteristics that show up in different situations. For example, someone with ADHD might really struggle to focus in school because they’re not interested in math or science (like me). But the same person might be able to spend hours researching a topic they are interested in, be it studying a niche interest or learning a new skill. This is called hyperfocus, and it is an extremely common flip side to the inattentive element of ADHD. I also learned that the inattentive type is much more common in women and girls, which makes it more likely that they won’t be diagnosed. Girls are also often socialized to work hard to attain good grades and deal with complex social situations. While a hyperactive boy is often seen as being gender-normal, girls are expected to be less rambunctious and physical. So for girls with inattentive ADHD, they often internalize their struggles, working much harder behind the scenes to keep up academically and developing anxiety and/or depression when they’re burning out or struggling to fit in socially. They’ll often become excellent at masking, mirroring people around them, and developing coping strategies to hide the areas of deficit in their ability to cope with the day-to-day. (This can, of course, also happen in boys who have inattentive type – it’s not a gendered thing – it’s just more common in girls and women).
This new understanding of what ADHD is, how it manifests, and how people with inattentive type – and girls and women in particular – can make it to adulthood without ever being suspected as having ADHD was a game changer for me. I dove into researching ADHD (hyperfocus, anyone?) and learning everything I could. I learned about the close connection between ADHD and autism, meaning that many people who are diagnosed with one will have traits of the other (though autism didn’t fit for me, it was confusing because I do have some traits like sensory issues that are also associated with autism), and even the common co-occurrence of ADHD and autism in the same person (known as auDHD – a new term to me). So many things started to make sense. All of a sudden, I could see myself as if a fog had lifted. All the struggles I had, the way I’d made my way through college and university doing all my work at the last minute but still doing pretty well, why I could easily pull A+ marks when I could choose classes based on interest, why I had so much trouble keeping up in high school, why parenthood with all its extra pressure on executive function and lack of alone time to recharge had been so incredibly hard for me.
Long story short, I finally went through ADHD assessment this year, and was diagnosed with ADHD. But it took a lot to get there. I had therapists for years – at least nine different ones – who never saw it. I even had one during the early days of my research who I asked if I could have ADHD and who said no. When I went to my doctor to express my suspicions I filled out the forms and was told I didn’t meet the criteria (some of the questions are hard to figure out or worded in such a way that they won’t get an accurate answer. One example was a question that asked if I was regularly late for or regularly missed important appointments. I said no, because I don’t. What it didn’t capture is the reason I don’t. I put each one in my calendar with reminders that pop up starting a week before the appointment and going until an hour before so I can’t forget). By this point I felt fairly certain I did have ADHD. So I asked if I could get a more in depth assessment and was referred to a private clinic that does ADHD assessment. I started making a list of all the things about myself that I thought might fit in with an ADHD diagnosis, which I gave to the doctor who assessed me along with all the regular forms and meetings. It wasn’t an easy road, and I nearly fell through the cracks once again. But in the end, it turns out I definitely do, in fact, have ADHD.
Finally getting a diagnosis now, when I’m in my 40s and have been struggling for my entire life, is a mixed bag of emotions. On the one hand there’s intense relief to finally know why I am how I am. It’s great to be able to read about ADHD traits and recognize myself. It’s even better to now be able to learn how to work with my brain instead of against it, start learning some strategies that will help me cope with the day-to-day, begin awareness of when and how I’m masking, and start medication that helps my brain work better. But more than all of that, it’s been wonderful to finally drop some of the guilt and shame, stop beating myself up all the time, and be able to articulate when I’m struggling with something and need help rather than just carrying the shame around, lying, BSing and feeling like I’m failing.
On the other hand, it’s a bit of a grieving process. Looking back over my life and all the things that were so, so hard that didn’t have to be if I’d had proper support and accommodations is heartbreaking. The decisions I’ve made based on what I was able to do without diagnosis, medication or strategies that could have been different (like choosing not to have another kid – something which I knew I couldn’t cope with and still be a good mum, but that I’ve always felt immense sadness for not having been able to do) but that it’s too late to change. It’s a lot to process, and a rollercoaster of emotion. I’m relieved but I’m also very, very angry and sad. I’ve lost a lot because of this, and I will never know what my life could have been if I’d known this earlier.
But for all the bad, there’s one major thing that is such a huge benefit to finally having this piece of information – I now am able to learn how to support my kid, so they won’t have to deal with the same struggles in silence that I did. That is worth so much to me. And that because my brain works how it does, I am able to understand what they are going through sometimes intuitively and without needing to do as much research. I’m also learning to lean into the up sides of
ADHD. I’m allowing myself my hyperfocuses, and I’m leaning into my ability to truly be in the moment and be really, really silly with my kid. These are things I love about myself, which are also because of my ADHD.
I wasn’t sure if I should share this – this is, after all, a book blog. But I started wondering if someone reading this might learn something they didn’t know about ADHD and maybe it would spark recognition in them for their own life or someone they know. Or maybe it would just help to dispel some of the harmful misrepresentations there are about what ADHD is. Like the fact that Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder is, according to pretty much every single person who has it, a terrible name for it. We don’t have a deficit of attention, we just have a hard time choosing what we are going to pay attention to. This kind of information is really good to have out there in the world, because these kinds of frequently misunderstood conditions can be made so much harder by a lack of understanding in the world around us of what it’s actually like for us. I’m hoping that maybe, just maybe, sharing this will help shift the understanding of what ADHD is and how it manifests – particularly in girls and women – for the better.
And, now that you all know this about me, I hope it will help you understand why sometimes I don’t post for a little while, why I’m terrible at publishing comments (in large part because I reply as I approve, otherwise there’s zero chance I’ll loop back to do it later, but that means I’m often very behind on approving them!) and why I am always running low on energy and time to spend here, as much as I want to!
I’m going to stop here, because this is already way longer than I planned (and if you have ADHD, I’m betting you had trouble making this far – if you did at all!). Before I go I did want to give a shout out to Ally at the YouTube channel allisonpaiges, who shared her experience of being diagnosed with autism as an adult, and which helped me decide to share my story as well. She’s a fantastic human and her channel is a welcoming place for everyone, with a focus on neurodiversity and chronic pain, both of which she experiences. If you’re not familiar with her, definitely check her out. I also have some good resources on ADHD to share in case you want to learn more:
Martha Barnard-Rae’s TED Talk on ADHD in women which was one of the first things I found that helped me start to understand what ADHD looks like in women and girls
ADHD Love (also check out Roxanne Emery and Richard Pink’s book, Dirty Laundry, which is excellent)
ADDitude Magazine (where you can also find some basic online ADHD tests if you are wondering whether you may have ADHD – but of course this is only for interest and you must seek professional diagnosis as well!)
Salif Mahamane’s TED Talk – ADHD sucks, but not really
ADHD As A Difference In Cognition, Not A Disorder – Stephen Tonti at TEDxCMU
If you made it to the end, thank you for taking the time to get to know me a little better. If anyone has questions or wants to share anything from their own lives – whether it’s related or just something that you’ve been wanting to talk about – please do share in the comments! I’d love to hear from you and would be happy to answer questions if there are any!
It must be empowering to know that our ADHD has been the culprit in so many of the things you were frustrated about as a child/young adult/new mother. I totally understand why you’d be frustrated (and angry?) that it took so long to be diagnosed even when you were sounding the alarm. Now you can move forward in a positive and empowered way!
Thank you. You know, you’re right, but at the same time I had no idea what was happening in my own brain and didn’t even realize that all the symptoms WERE symptoms. And a lot did fit other conditions – like anxiety and depression – that I also have, probably secondary to undiagnosed ADHD. I have had many therapists and none diagnosed me, and they were good therapists, it’s just that hard to diagnose I think. So I try not to focus on the fact that it was missed, because I don’t really blame anyone, I’m just glad that I know about it now, that I’m finally on the right meds, and that my kid has this vital info now and adults around who will do their best to provide support and understanding. It’s a huge thing, and so important to finally get information on!
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