The Tragic Roundabout

When I was at school there was a girl. Well, there were lots of girls. But there was one particular girl and she was perfect. No, not like that. 

Let me explain. 

We'll use a pseudonym (now, I've googled how to spell it) and Ermintrude is as good as any. Ermi was practically perfect in every way. Tall, slim, very attractive, great hair, a straight-A student, kind, respectful, good company, good at sport. By any commonly held success metric, she was smashing life.

Now, Ermi wasn't a close friend, but she was in my circle of friends. Her grades were off the chart. I would bumble along hoping to get mid-teens out of 25 in my English Literature A-Level essays, but she'd be getting 23/25. I had no idea how to improve, she seemed to be hitting these heights from the get-go. I was chaotic, scrappy, dysregulated. She was cool, calm and successful. After school, she goes off to a top university, I hear she's working for a national broadcaster, then a national newspaper and by the look of her Facebook page, she spends her spare time sailing around the world. She just...had her shit together. 

When we meet 30 years later at a school reunion, we get talking. She's looking for a tutor for her daughter, who's dyslexic and auADHD. We swap numbers (my wife's a tutor) and then messages. I tell her that I've just been diagnosed for ADHD and that by getting her daughter a diagnosis she's likely changing the entire course of her life for the better.  

A day later her reply comes. She's ADHD. Life has been a shitstorm since forever. She tells me about the loneliness, the shame, the anxiety, the drinking...

I was in shock. Almost in denial...about someone else's diagnosis. How could she of all people have the same condition as me? I was the fuck-up. She was the superstar. She was exactly the sort of person I thought I should be aiming to be. 

And I thought I was good at masking...

Since posting my diagnosis on Facebook, old friends have been coming out of the woodwork to share theirs with me. One of whom was an old colleague - we'll call her Florence. She's just entering the neurodiverse universe. Not diagnosed yet, but she's pretty sure. And to be honest, of everyone in my circle, I was least surprised to hear from her. 

Last night, Florence and I went for a drink to chat it all over. I shared the story of my path to diagnosis: the isolation and loneliness, the binge eating, the limerence, the shame, the suicide stuff etc etc. After hearing my tale of woe, she said, "I'm just so surprised. I've always thought of you as someone who was winning at life - the career, the family, health. I used to look to you as someone who...had their shit together."






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