Little Pills

For years I struggled.

Beneath the facade of a well-intentioned woman was a creature. It was a creature I didn't feel any particular way toward; it was just there, always under the skin.

I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was a teenager struggling to find my purpose in the world. I had always felt a little different, a little more hyped up, a little weirder than the people I called friends. It was almost a gift, something that made me stand out from the crowd and less concerned with what people thought of me.

As I grew older, it became less like a gift and more like an annoying little parrot on my shoulder that told me to drink too much and spend all my money. Focusing on anything that I didn't find utterly fascinating was like nails on a chalkboard, and my inability to finish anything I started was beyond frustrating.

Blurting out facts about movies and tv shows that I had binged during sessions of hyperfocus was common. Feelings of embarrassment festered and warped. My lack of self-control when I drank led to many hangovers and wasted hours in bed.

Years came and went, and I didn't do anything about my diagnosis. I barely even acknowledged it because I was getting by.

What a sinister and sad way to look at life.

Getting by.

This year I sat at my kitchen table, working from home, realizing that I had yet another unproductive day. I would tell myself the same story I told myself the week before when I had little to no motivation, "it's alright, everyone has days like these."

Maybe they do, but the day before, I had blasted through emails like some email blasting God. I watched four Masterclass videos and wrote the next three chapters of my novel. How could I go from that to this? This person unable to focus on her breakfast, never m the tasks that needed to be tackled that day.

When the bad days start to outweigh the good, it's time to make a change.

Last year, I moved away from my hometown, stopped drinking, and made a ton of life choices that, in retrospect, were big and scary. Much scarier than looking my diagnosis in the face and saying, we have to talk.

I spent so much of my adult life ignoring something that was never going to go away. It was my shame; how could someone in my position have ADHD? I would worry that my employers would look at me differently and suddenly not trust the tasks they laid in my hands should I admit to my diagnosis. I was silly because not acknowledging my problem was way worse for everyone.

Now to be real for a moment, I haven't told my employers about my predicament; I have only just taken responsibility for this myself. It took years to get to a point where I could say I have ADHD without flinching.

But here I am.

I made some calls and sent some emails. I am two days away from my first appointment with a therapist who will hopefully give me the tools to be an email blasting God every damn day of my life.

Oh God, I hope I don't have to blast emails every damn day of my life. It would be great if I could do some other stuff too.

Sorry, I got off track. Kind of part of the deal.

I guess what I am trying to say is this, it can be scary to change, and it can take as long as it takes. Perhaps my change could've come years ago, but hey, I'm a procrastinator. The chemicals in my head make me that way.