October is ADHD awareness month and awareness is the thing that’s been contributing to the rising numbers of ADHD and Autism diagnoses in recent years — not sugar, screen time or vaccines, as some seem to think. And it’s NOT a bad thing.
I was diagnosed with ADHD at 30. Several times since then, I’ve been told that I “don’t need these labels.”
Listen… I didn’t ask for them.
Being called lazy, messy, irresponsible, disrespectful, stupid, weird, spacey, etc, are also labels. And neurodivergent folks hear them all the time. Even when trying their best.
I didn’t feel “different” growing up. But people made sure to tell me I was. From playground bullies to well-meaning adults. I’ve changed countries, settings, contexts, but the comments remained consistent “she’s a strange one.” And when I got older and questioned “how so?” nobody could offer an explanation (apparently neurotypicals often don’t know why they do or say lots of things, it’s just a “thing” you’re supposed to intuitively know). Friends told me, “being different isn’t a bad thing.” But I never asked for their value judgement. Is it the way I talked? The way I dressed? I simply could not see the difference! It was like the world was in on some joke I just could not pin down.
Living as an undiagnosed neurodivergent makes for a confusing and lonely existence.
It’s also an exhausting one. Besides the social factor I faced other challenges: emotional dysregulation, executive dysfunction, working memory and sensory issues, etc. But a) I didn’t know someone had it different and b) I believed those were moral failings. So I pushed myself harder. The only times I felt I was doing enough was when I was vomiting from exhaustion.
Neurodivergent masking is a sure road to burnout. But it’s impossible to know you’re masking when you’re not diagnosed. Even mental health professionals will gaslight you due to their lack of training and knowledge about neuro-differences. They’ll assure you “you’re doing fine,” and when you’re hanging by a very brittle thread…
After years of banging my head against the wall and whilst sitting in a pile of toys and other toddler paraphernalia I had no idea how to tidy, sobbing, I reached out to a random online mental health group with a plea for help: “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t do this anymore.”
A kind stranger directed me towards a book called Running on Empty about childhood emotional neglect. I swallowed it in a day and went back to the forum saying, “I relate to the symptoms but not the cause, I had a good family.”
Somebody else suggested I research highly sensitive children, which, in turn, led me to resources on ADHD. I could relate to the vast majority of the symptoms and scored highly on all the online tests (like the A student I am). But I still couldn’t believe that could be it. I was too “high functioning” for a disorder. I just needed to know what I’m doing wrong so I could fix it.
It wasn’t until an acquaintance (also a high achieving, “high functioning,” adult woman), wrote about her experience with a late autism diagnosis, that I had gathered enough courage to reach out to a psychiatrist.
The diagnosis process was long, expensive and underwhelming. A piece of paper didn’t completely rid me of impostor syndrome. Meds didn’t help either (probably because of common comorbidities, which require an individualised treatment plan, which nobody will individualise, because you’re just a number in the system. Facts. Oh, and “you’re doing so great”). But it empowered me to talk to myself a bit more kindly.
When my inner critic would yell, “What’s wrong with you, why can’t you do simple things?!” I could slip the piece of paper in front of him, and say, “Look, I have this actual disorder, diagnosed by an actual professional, and I have receipts.” That would shut him up long enough for me to find a work-around, without feeling like a complete failure. And that’s a big deal. And it makes for a more hopeful future.
And that’s why we need these “labels.” They unravel the mystery and give it a name, allow us to understand ourselves and our brains better. To seek out resources and professionals who have expertise in these areas. To advocate for ourselves. To show ourselves more compassion, because nobody can hate themselves into improvement (not an original quote). And finally, find a community of those with similar experiences which makes our existence that much less lonely.
Now that I’ve had several years to process my ADHD diagnosis, I’m beginning to peek beneath the mask. I also have reasons to suspect I’m slightly autistic, but that’s a subject for another post. For now I’m doing lots of therapy to work through some of the fallout that inevitably comes with being a neuro-spicy bean in a neuro-bland world. But I wouldn’t have gotten here without the strangers on the internet. And that’s why I’m sharing this today. Even if it’s scary for me to do so.
Feel free to reach out if you have questions or want to share your own experiences.
Below are a few articles I found interesting.
A. ZAYKOVA 