Discovering How ADHD Shaped My Experiences

For most of my life through school, into adulthood, and now into my 50s, I had no idea that my brain worked differently than others. Then, last year, I was diagnosed with ADHD.

That diagnosis brought me a deep sigh of relief. Suddenly, things began to make sense. I started learning what ADHD really is and how uniquely it shows up in each of us. For the first time, I realized that it's okay for my brain to work differently, It always has.

I didn’t know that most people don’t have to consciously think about every single step in their day. From the moment I wake up, my mind is in overdrive: “Stand up. Put on clothes. Go to the bathroom. Brush teeth. Brush hair. Take medication. Walk to the kitchen. Fill the kettle. Get a cup. Open the drawer for a spoon.” Every single action requires a mental prompt. It’s exhausting and I just thought this was normal, I didn’t know different.

I didn’t realize that most people don’t feel constant frustration trying to remember things, stay focused, or complete basic tasks. I’ve always had a million thoughts crowding my brain, making it difficult to filter, to organize, to retain. My intentions are good, I'm listening but with so much noise in my head, I don’t always hear the message. Not because I don’t care. Because I simply can’t.

For years, I beat myself up. I got angry and frustrated with myself. No matter how hard I tried, things didn’t click. Remembering names, sticking to a to-do list, it all felt impossible. In school, I would stay in during recess and lunch to study, or remain after class because home life was too distracting. I’d study hard, go to sleep, and wake up feeling like my brain had hit reset overnight. All that effort, gone. I carried shame and I told myself, “I’m not smart enough, I’m not good enough, I can’t.”

Growing up, learning differences weren’t recognized like they are now. So, I spent decades pushing myself to meet a standard that wasn’t made for me.

I know several people with ADHD, and we’re all so different. But being able to speak honestly about the chaos and overwhelm in my brain, that no one else can see has been freeing. It’s helped me let go of “I can’t,” and replace it with “I can just differently.” I have learned new strategies that support my brain in the ways it needs. Life is a forever learning journey and acceptance is part of that journey.

I’ve always extended grace and compassion to others but for most of my life, I didn’t give the same grace to myself.

Now, with a diagnosis and the right support, including medication, my world has shifted, not because I needed to be “fixed,” but because I finally understand myself. With understanding has comes self-compassion.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with having a learning disability or any disability, for that matter. Once I began identifying my strengths and stretches, I started building a toolbox of supports that work “with” my brain instead of against it. By connecting with others who truly understand what I experience has opened doors I never would’ve found on my own. I’ve learned new strategies, some work for me, some don’t but even the ones that don’t are valuable, because I can pass them along to someone else who might benefit from them.

My diagnosis has helped me accept that I may not do things the same way as most, but that’s okay. How someone gets from point A to point B shouldn't matter.  What matters is that we’re supported in making the journey.

Talking openly about my challenges within all of my disabilities and expressing what helps me, has taken the guesswork out of my relationships. It’s allowed me to thrive in a world that isn’t always built for people like me.

The more we speak up and share, the more understanding we create and the more we prove that there is nothing wrong with different.

ADHD has absolutely been a struggle, but it’s also a gift. I’m the gal with a million ideas. I can plan a celebration that makes everyone feel welcome. I’m full of energy, think outside the box, connect easily with others, and try to find the good in most things.

My cup isn’t half empty or half full, it’s refillable. Because some days are harder than others. Every day, I learn a little more about how to support myself and that is something to celebrate.