Dear Readers, I see you out there with your pumpkin spice lattes... your infinity scarves... your decorative autumn candles. Today is October 1st, the official kick-off of Spooky Season (at least here in the U.S.). It's also the kick-off of ADHD Awareness Month.
What a day!
If you attend my employee assistance program (EAP) talks, you know I choose to celebrate ADHD awareness year-round with neurodiversity-related seminars. However, it's nice to have a month where a much broader group of people agrees we should be talking about this.
If you haven't followed my journey, I'm Jesse: a late-diagnosis ADHD-er.
My diagnosis surprised approximately 0% of the people who know me best, and yet... what a profound experience to get a name for the "thing"!
Even in my personal life, I don't promote getting a diagnosis or any particular treatment (if any). I'm much more of a "choose your own adventure" kind of gal when it comes to being neurodivergent. With that said, I thought it might be interesting to share my experience of suddenly being public about having ADHD.
Here's what happened after I got- and shared- my diagnosis:
1) There was an unexpected outpouring of love from the people closest to me. As amazing as my friends and family are, I wouldn't have expected the degree of support I received after sharing my diagnosis. They leaned in with questions. We "replayed" memories through this new lens. It felt incredibly healing to be able to explain myself better and know I was loved with and without the diagnosis. Overall, my relationships have improved, and I've been so grateful for the patience and understanding I've been shown.
2) I did have people start assuming I couldn't do things I actually could.
I probably should've seen this coming but totally didn't: as soon as colleagues knew I had ADHD, they started making comments about what I probably wasn't good at. And they were pretty off base.
While it's a somewhat unusual presentation, I was diagnosed with hyperactive/impulsive ADHD (not inattentive or even combined). This comes in handy when I'm improvising during talks and rapidly developing course materials. It also becomes a bit obnoxious when I'm trying to slow down my brain, which doubles as a high-speed car with no brakes.
So, when I started getting treated as someone who couldn't possibly pay attention... or organize a work plan... or keep track of important e-mails... it was pretty freaking strange. Coming out of a career in healthcare management, all of these tasks were required in my roles, and they weren't the areas that were difficult for me. Over time, it's become easier to explain to others how ADHD affects me, so I'm more comfortable navigating these conversations. The early days definitely felt bizarre, though!
3) Sharing my experience started connecting me to others.
While I've been told more than once that discussing neurodiversity at work is "stupid" (I really wish I were misquoting), the broader response has been extremely positive. I've had so many participants share their diagnoses or talk about what's coming up in their families. It's made me feel way more connected and less alone. Hopefully, the feeling has been mutual!
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Am I glad I got diagnosed? Very much so.
Has it been all rainbows and butterflies since then?
Not exactly, but it has leaned more in that direction than not. ❤️
Happy ADHD Awareness Month to everyone who celebrates! Feel free to drop your experience in the comments below. (Scroll all the way down, folks! ⬇️)
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