The first time someone expressed to me they thought I had ADHD was a psychiatrist through the university I attended at the time. I wrote her off (we’ll get back to that later) and forgot about it. However, this was not the first time someone was concerned I had ADHD. Apparently, my mom suspected I had it as a young child.
When I started school, however, I didn’t have any problems. I was painfully shy, never got in trouble, earned good grades, and was placed in the gifted program. Since I was excelling, my mom left it alone. On into junior high and high school, I did very well grade-wise, and honestly it was without much effort. Here’s the thing though: I was hardcore, on-another-planet-daydreaming at least 78% of the time. But, I thrived when learning new things and developed an excellent “paying attention face” for the rest of the time.
Even in college, I was able to get mostly As by using my tried and true method of checking out during class and then teaching myself the most relevant material later. It was more difficult and stressful than in high school, but I still got by. It didn’t help that I had the freedom to skip class.
And did skip class.
A ton.
“If classes didn’t have a strict attendance policy I would avoid going–even if I genuinely liked the topic–simply because I couldn’t sit still and maintain focus. It was a nightmare to be trapped in a desk, only allowed the movement to doodle or discretely wiggle my leg.”
Listen, I know skipping class is very common among college students. I’m not implying I’m unique for doing it. What I will say is that my skipping class felt less like blowing off responsibility for the fun of it and more like helplessness.
If classes didn’t have a strict attendance policy I would avoid going–even if I genuinely liked the topic–simply because I couldn’t sit still and maintain focus. It was a nightmare to be trapped in a desk, only allowed the movement to doodle or discretely wiggle my leg. And sometimes it was simply a matter of not being able to gain the momentum required to do what I needed to do to get to class (like get dressed, gather my belongings, or fill my vehicle with gas).
I felt like a lazy piece of garbage for not being as attentive and studious as people around me. I would forget my notebook at home, bring the wrong notebook, lose my pen somewhere along the way, or notice a random sound no one else seemed to notice and then not be able to notice anything else.
For these reasons, I opted for skipping class and joking about it, all the while feeling ashamed. Then when it came time for an exam, I would panic the night before, be really mean to myself for not getting the most out of the educational opportunity I was so privileged to have, teach myself enough of what I needed to know to get a decent grade, and vow to do better next time (spoiler: I never did).
It wasn’t until my first full time job that my ADHD began to affect me in a way I couldn’t work around.. It was a completely different ball game than school. It wasn’t just grades at stake. I cared deeply about doing well at my job and not letting my bosses, coworkers, or clients down.
The job had a lot of computer/paperwork/data tracking aspects to it. It was a small non-profit so the workload was stressful to begin with, but I was struggling with more than that. I was overwhelmed by any and every task because each task felt too big and complicated to start (even “simple” ones). I didn’t know how to break down, prioritize, or manage, well, anything. I chronically underestimated how long things would take me to do, and even if I got 90% of the way done I would be stuck on the last 10% for what felt like forever.
“It was like everything I knew needed to get done was swirling around my head at 100 mph, coming in and out of focus.”
I would start one project, then remember something else that needed to be done, so start the second task, but while doing the second task would remember a third to-do, and so on and so on. I would have 12 different projects on my desk halfway done and on my computer 10+ programs running and 40+ internet tabs open.
It was like everything I knew needed to get done was swirling around my head at 100 mph, coming in and out of focus. I would grab a task from the tornado and try to start it, but the second I did it would be swept by away by a strong wind and replaced with another.
My ability to focus began to quickly diminish after 10 am, and trying to get anything done after 2 pm was excruciating if not impossible.
On top of all this, there was resulting anxiety, stress, and shame of feeling so out of control.
Despite all that, I found myself unable to say no to additional responsibilities and instead would always find a way to get it all done–staying late, coming in early, losing my mind. At times, I would find a burst of drive (hello, hyperfocus) and work on something I was obsessed with for multiple hours straight. The problem was I would then be completely burned out with no energy for anything else the rest of the day. It didn’t help that half the time I would conclude that thing I had just spent hours on really hadn’t been quite as pressing as it had felt at the time.
Needing to make a change, I began an internet search on “how to stay focused at work.” The articles I related most to and the strategies I found most helpful were by/for people with ADHD. I began to implement their advice and, while I was still having a hard time, they made a noticeable difference.
All this internet reading on ADHD reminded me of that appointment with the psychiatrist I mentioned earlier. I had laughed her off back then, but now that I had done my own research about ADHD I was feeling bad for doubting her.
Thinking back, I remembered she had listed off statements (I now realize were part of an ADHD screening tool) with me having been instructed to say how frequently I did/experienced them. They had been about a variety of topics: losing important items, being forgetful, having a hard time focusing, struggling with finishing things, etc.
That’s stuff every person on earth can relate to, right?
That’s why I assumed the psychiatrist was too eager to diagnose me.
What I hadn’t realized at the time was this:
“While everyone could relate to losing their keys/phone/wallet at some point or another, not everyone was losing them to the point they were not sure they would ever find them again multiple times a day. But I was.”
“While everyone could relate to the annoyance of walking into a room and forgetting why, most people weren’t forgetting 75% of the time they walked into a room. But I was.”
“While everyone could relate to being disorganized sometimes or have a messy bedroom, not everyone was feeling helplessly out of control about it because no matter how many times they had tried to “get it together” they just couldn’t. But I was.”
“While everyone could relate to hating boring tasks and getting side-tracked from time to time, not everyone was sabatoging group study sessions with an endless supply of memes because they didn’t know how to focus and were afraid of feeling stupid. But I was.”
“While everyone could relate to starting a project and then abandoning it, not everyone was jumping from obsession to obsession, compulsively crafting intricate plans for them or impulsively spend too much money on them…just to lose 100% interest shortly after. But I was.”
It’s crazy, but even though I had answered “frequently” to almost all her statements regarding ADHD symptoms, I hadn’t. I had thought when it came to most of them, I was either completely normal or just plain lazy.
There in my office at work, I was starting to see it differently.
I decided to start working with an ADHD coach. Even in the first session, my shame and sense of helplessness began to shrink. I began to understand how ADHD brains work. I started to see that improving myself was all about understanding why certain things were hard for me and creating systems that take my unique strengths and weaknesses into account.
Furthermore, my eyes were opening to how ADHD was affecting not just my work life but my personal life as well. My messiness, struggle with chores, habit of constantly losing things, anxiety and obsessive thoughts, and poor emotional regulation did not exist because I was a weak or bad person. Rather, they were very much related to the executive functioning that is lacking in ADHD brains.
The great thing, I discovered, was I didn’t have to be helpless in these areas either. Just like in my work life, there were tactics I could try and systems I could implement to work with my brain. I began to take back control of my life.
I’m far from where I want to be, but more often than not I have replaced my feelings of inadequacy with a sense of resiliency. And that feels amazing.
“For a long time, I hesitated with using the term “ADHD,” because an official diagnosis wasn’t important to me at the time, I was insecure about being self-diagnosis-happy, and/or I was afraid people might not take it seriously. “
Eventually though I became comfortable and confident saying the shoe fits, went in for a formal diagnosis, and started medication (which was a total game-changer). Now, I’m an ADHD coach (in training) myself.
What a journey!
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