For the first twenty-six years of my life I was the type of person who gave a judgmental smirk anytime anyone talked about ADHD. I was the kind of person who always secretly thought that ADHD was a medical way of saying “I don’t like my kid. Could you drug him into submission for me?” For adults who spoke about their struggle with ADHD, I just thought “well, that’s what you’ve always been told, so I’m sure you believe that’s the issue”. I filed ADHD firmly into the dismissive and humorous “First World Problems” section of my mind.
That changed about a year ago. Though I was snarky about ADHD particularly, I’ve always been a huge proponent of counseling, psychiatric and psychological care, and the idea that everyone in the whole world would benefit from seeing a “shrink” of one kind or another. Whether you have a diagnosis of depression or you’re just feeling blue for perfectly non-chemical reasons, I trust psychiatric professionals and think that if you find the right one, you should attend regularly. So, there I was in my own counselor’s office talking about some of the challenges that go along with my new job and also being a brand new father. Both are stressful situations for anyone, regardless of their condition or circumstance. Suddenly, I found my usually very quiet psychiatrist asking me REALLY specific questions, all of which elicited an affirmative answer from me.
“Do you ever forget what you’re doing?”
“Do you have the nagging feeling you aren’t who you should be?”
“Do you feel like you have an excessive amount of unmet potential looming over you?”
“Do you quit easily and leave even projects you’re excited about unfinished?”
The list goes on and my answer was “yes” for every single question. It was one of those moments in therapy where a therapist, maybe for the first time in your life, starts asking the perfect questions. When that happens, it’s extremely riveting and often emotional. It’s like pulling a very tiny thread and seeing a sweater knit for the Hulk quickly unravel. After the series of questions were through, my counselor looked at me and said “I think you may have an oft undiagnosed form of ADHD.”
There’s no way this could happen. I wasn’t a spaz in grade school. I could always, even as a child, sit quietly and read for hours. I made all A’s until I was in 7th grade, and that’s just because I got to be “too punk for school”. Of all the things she could have said to me that day, this was the most surprising and least desired assertion I could think of (maybe besides “you have early-onset Alzheimer’s). The only bleak comparison I can draw would be that of a homophobe being diagnosed with AIDS in the 80’s, I was ignorantly offended and unwilling to accept.
That being said, the precision of my counselors prodding and the sudden explosion of clarity on so many things in my life from early childhood to that moment could not be ignored. She diagnosed me with ADHD-PIT (predominantly inattentive type). This essentially meant that I had all the issues an ADHD person would have, but was never even considered for diagnosis because any behavioral problems I ever had (which were few and far between) were not linked to hyperactivity. Sure, I could sit and read COMIC BOOKS for hours, but given something I had only a cursory interest in or wasn’t fully riveted by (Anna Karenina was so beautiful, but I had a hell of a time getting through even a chapter) it was next to impossible for me to will myself to finish or fully engage.
Recently, I’ve found this diagnosis more relevant as I’ve become a father and a provider for my family. I see it effect my performance at work when I’m “spinning plates”, something my job requires of me often. More immediately, I see it in my creative life. I can come up with ideas for stories all day long, but fleshing them out past about 500 words NEVER happens. In my band, I’ve tried to take on singing, playing guitar, and operating some effects pedals and I don’t think I’ve EVER pulled it off at practices or shows. Not in the typical “I’m hard on myself as a musician” way either, I mean I’ve never even come close to sufficiently singing, playing, and hitting my very limited amount of pedals during a set. I forget lyrics that I’ve been singing for 5 years, I don’t engage my distortion pedal at the right time, or I fumble through a four-note lead that I wrote and know I can play. It’s sometimes like being in one of those dreams where you’re running from something, but you feel like you’re underwater while everyone else is on land. You know you need to run fast, but you just can’t seem to will yourself to do it.
I have a lot of respect for those of us who are transparent about depression and anxiety in our writing. Lord knows I’ve always tried to be. In a world where those things are viewed as weaknesses, I think it’s admirable to reach out and hopefully make people who suffer in silence feel a little less alone. But, for me to be transparent about ADHD, is far more difficult than anything I’ve ever written about my myriad of flaws (and strengths!) concerning depression or anxiety. I’m trusting in the old adage that the right thing and the easy thing are rarely the same and writing openly about this particular issue for the first time. Hopefully, someone else out their who feels shackled by what seems to be uncontrollable sloth, who’s life is seriously altered by a crippling inability to finish anything despite their resolve to do so, will hear me out and feel a little less alone in their frustration.
There are approximately one trillion things in the world that are worse than having ADHD, but that doesn’t make it any more fun.
