I fall into a weird category with ADHD diagnosis. Especially for a woman. We’re often diagnosed later in life and go through a trial of having co-morbidities like anxiety or depression to disguise our symptoms.
It’s often after years of frustration, due to the primary cause not being treated, that we find the biggest answer to the seemingly endless questions that arise throughout our lives.
The first time I can recall someone asking if I had ADHD, was when I was eight years old, by a particularly perceptive teacher. I did well in class and read a lot. I was in the top 1% for
all subjects according to the national standard tests throughout primary school, which, perhaps if we think of poor stereotypes, doesn’t scream ADHD. Although, according to a 2018 article in the Journal of Intelligence, 80% of participants from a Mensa study, who score as being in the top 2% of intelligence, had been diagnosed with ADHD. So, perhaps she was on to something.
I also seemed to have three specific modes in the classroom, that would differ from day to day, or subject matter in class. They were hyper and chatty, quiet and in a daydream, or quiet and intensely focused. Or, as my teacher may have seen it, ADHD combined type.
I spent just over half of my school career excelling, despite these variations in classroom behaviour and a less than desirable homework completion rate. Notably, around ages 12-14, my attention span began to wane in certain subjects. Whenever a teacher taught a topic in a manner I didn’t find engaging, or simply because I was placed too far back in the classroom, I found myself really struggling to pay attention. Obviously, teachers are heroes, and how could they cater to a thing they are unaware of? Their style works for the majority, and I have a lot of respect for the profession. Unfortunately, for me, the environment wasn’t conducive to my learning style. As such, my grades in that class would plumet drastically.
I tried to study, in my spare time. I highlighted, read aloud, and listened back. I made up rhymes, poems, and puns to retain information – but it barely made a dent. My parents and teachers alike were confused, and perhaps not as polite with their enquiries as I would have preferred. I too, wondered if I had lost what I had? Or perhaps I was lazy? Despite how hard I was now trying to keep up. Everything used to be so easy. It was always noted that I spoke intelligently, but for some reason I couldn’t expand upon that when pen and paper met. It didn’t make sense.
Except, it did. Friends and teachers would still wonder aloud if I had ADHD. It was a label used daily to explain me, not unkindly either, I just had a lot of energy and was a total chatterbox. I still did well in a couple of classes throughout, the ones I found fun or was seated strategically.
From around age 16, I began to research the topic heavily. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, most symptoms, stories, quizzes, and articles sounded like me! I broached the topic with a couple of family members with little to no understanding of the condition and was shut down. Which was incredibly disheartening at the time. It prevented me from seeking a diagnosis fresh out of high school, as I had valued their opinions on what was going on inside my own head. I consistently remember feeling, that if I didn’t have ADHD, perhaps I was just… broken? Perhaps I had fooled everyone for years, but this was now the real me.
Obviously, this wasn’t the case. But it took 6-7 years of wallowing in this dejected feeling to seek out formal diagnosis. When I was freshly 21, and had just finished my first semester of university, where I had failed 2/4 of my classes; I felt defeated. I had been engaged in class, and sure, exams and tests were especially tough for me due to losing my train of thought (or forgetting revised material) if someone nearby was tapping a pen, but still. I had worked so hard! My essays and projects were fine, but they didn’t hold enough grade weight. Why couldn’t I just focus?
Hang on… I could focus though. One of my papers held a barely passing grade, that was something, surely… The other, was an A.
An A. Although it didn’t have a plus, it was the most beautiful thing I could have seen in that moment. It proved to me, after years of self-doubt, that I still had some ability. Also, crucially, that if I was going to get through university, I needed some help.
It was incredibly nerve-wracking, to reach out and book that appointment. I’d mentioned to my doctor 14 months prior, that I thought I might have ADHD, and she’d recommended a particular psychiatrist. I had been too afraid to follow up with them at the time and embarrassed in current day that I had waited so long. So, I did some research and found a different clinic, I included the recommendation from my doctor, which she had kindly printed at the time.
I didn’t sleep the night before, because I worried in the appointment that I’d get overwhelmed and forget all the symptoms I had, or not express myself correctly. My report said I was very calm and well spoken, which is hilarious to me now. I cried afterwards once I got that confirmation. It was a potent mixture of frustration, pain, and joy.
I started taking the medication, adjusted my dose a month later, started my next semester of university and achieved an A-grade average for the next three years.
With ADHD, one often has an area or two they excel in, especially if they have the hyper focus symptom. So, at times, admittedly there was a slight advantage.
My peers often commented that I just had some natural advantage, as I became quite engaged with study. I used medication, alongside strategies for my success. I invested in noise cancelling headphones for study and would find empty spaces around campus to minimise distractions and help the material shine. I’d take extensive handwritten notes in class as well, in different coloured pens, so that re-reading was interesting, or I could easily find key points. I managed my time well between full time evening work, early morning classes, study sessions and looking after my dog.
If a class wasn’t as stimulating as I’d prefer (this happened twice), I’d find the material from other sources, like YouTube, and would use that to build my understanding. I would then read the online class work, including next week’s work, so that when the next class came – I already knew the material a bit and would find it easier to focus.
Essentially, on occasion, I had to work significantly harder than everyone else to learn the same thing. At other times, admittedly, due to strategies and levelling the playing field with medication, it was easier for me. With ADHD, one often has an area or two they excel in, especially if they have the hyper focus symptom. So, at times, admittedly there was a slight advantage.
It can be hard, to not grieve for the years and subject abilities lost. The wider range of opportunities I would have had, the pain I could have skipped or how much further in life I would be now. It’s, tough, to say the least. Having your sense of identity, ability, and course for life derailed at a young age.
The contrast helps a lot. There’s a clear line in the sand of life before and after. I look at where I am now, living in an apartment in the city with just my dog, writing for Verve, working on my thesis for my master’s degree, with great friends and a lot more colour in my life than the tougher years yielded.
I know younger me would be proud of where I am today, and I’m proud of her for fighting to get here. My journey was incredibly difficult at times, but also comparatively easier than many who seek diagnosis later in life. Because at least I had an idea of the name for what I was experiencing, even if I was scared it was wrong, I was faking, or I was lazy. I still knew, in a way, and that was a privileged position to be in.
Medication was, for me, such an important tool for getting back on track. I have this life because of it, and I’m so thankful for that every day. It wasn’t an instant fix, I had to put the work in. However, it meant I could be on the same playing field as the majority. I could start to build the life I had always dreamed of.
Words — Bella Sampson
