Twas ever thus

"Can you think of examples of where you might have been impulsive?"

"Well, I asked a woman to marry me that I wasn't in a relationship with...oh, and I bought a house on a whim."

I think she just ticked the 'yes' box. 

This was a question my therapist put to me last September. This was only my second session, with the first being perfunctory - weight, substance history whatever. I'd been outlining what I thought my issues were (grief, isolation, parents - all the classics) when some of the things I'd said caused her to veer down a certain path of questioning. How did I find school? Did I find it difficult channeling my concentration? How were my emotions? etc etc. 

Where was this going?

Eventually, we arrived at our destination: "Could I ask if you've ever been tested for ADHD?"

"No," I said. "And I don't really know what that is." Well, I do now.

I don't struggle to sit still. I can read for hours. I can watch a film without getting up. So, how could I have ADHD?

Well, I do. Full fat, combined, with a slight skew towards the attention side of the ship. 

When I started therapy, my head was already spinning from a whirlwind few months: loss of a father figure; my sister's cancer diagnosis; a sort of panic attack about my past; 30+ years of limerence. And now I had to deal with this too.

So, I did what any responsible ADHDer would do, and went into hyperfocus: books; YouTube; podcasts. As a recovering binge eater, devouring copious amounts (of information) felt familiar. It sated my desire to finally, finally get my head around WTF is wrong with me. I didn't have to just shove that feeling under the mattress any longer. There's a reason why nothing is ever enough? There's a reason it feels like everything is easier for everyone else. There's a reason I feel broken and have done for 40+ years. 

Of course, this was still subject to formal diagnosis (since received). But the initial online assessment I completed appeared so definitive - and what I'd read/listened to was so relatable - I would have been astonished if it hadn't been confirmed. 

With the cork out of the bottle, my mind went into overdrive, reviewing all those touchpoints in my life that forced me to bury who I was. All the guilt, all the shame. Everything that made me question: WTF is wrong with me. Why did I spend my childhood lying compulsively, stealing, struggling with my emotions, suicidal...and my adulthood eating to excess and never feeling satisfied? 

The real me had pulled blanket after blanket on top of me for decades, to cushion the blows of life - from bona fide traumas, to perceived slights that anyone else would have shrugged off.

Of course, ADHD has always been with me. I just didn't call it that. Over the years, I just got better and better as masking it, and its impact on me - not just from those around me, but from myself. But in reality - I just didn't want to look at the monster under the bed, as I was scared what I might find. 











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