
If somebody asked you what it’s like to be a grown woman with ADHD, what would you tell them? Here’s what I would say – can you relate to any of them?
- If I weren’t diagnosed, I’d wonder if I were having a stroke or early-onset Alzheimer’s.
- I compare myself to neurotypicals constantly. I want to know if it’s me or my ADHD.
- Pre-diagnosis/treatment, at work I felt like The Late One or The One Who Never Has It Together.
- I silently smile when people say things like “well you aren’t bouncing up and down so you must be fine.”
- When I get a great idea or cluster of ideas, I quickly talk myself down to “normal” so I don’t go overboard again.
- I require lots and lots of planners, habit trackers and stickers to do the kinds of things that come easier for neurotypicals.
- I walk around with a notebook because if I don’t jot it down, it’s gone forever.
- Pre-diagnosis I wore the persona of “flake” really well.
- At first I got by on my humor – a lot. Better to beat them to the punch and laugh at myself first.
- I was overly nice to compensate for feeling all wrong.
- I nod silently when people say things like “ADHD isn’t real” or “people who use ADHD medicine are drug addicts.”
- As a mom, I come with all the trappings of being Super Mom, except I figuratively have one arm tied behind my back.
- I geek out on life hacks, not out of novelty but out of desperate necessity.
- I have to cut a lot of things out of my life to manage the things I keep.
- When pregnant, then nursing, I couldn’t have the medicine I needed to function optimally during the hardest times of my life.
- I had to teach myself to stop apologizing all the time. I still catch myself doing it sometimes.
- My default setting is: all conditions must be just right for me to do the thing.
- I don’t always have my days straight.
- I get lost very easily.
- I tend to lose things. Important things.
- When lighting a candle, I have Alexa remind me to blow it out.
- I had a doctor in another specialty tell me my condition was fake. It was a sad, powerless feeling.
- My family knows, but we don’t talk about it much.
- My husband knows and now we can finally talk about it.
- My daughter will know and I will teach her to love herself – warts and all.