ADHDaversary: five years on the ADHD journey.

Five years ago today I was inconclusively “diagnosed” with ADHD: my testing couldn’t fully diagnose ADHD, though did pinpoint a host of other learning issues and quirks about my brain, but they also couldn’t fully exclude the possibility of an ADHD diagnosis. That discussion marked a closure of sorts: gave me answers, and affirmed the fact that no, I wasn’t dumb, and I was in fact trying as hard as I could—my brain just has wiring that’s a bit different.

Over the last five years I’ve navigated what that means—and I’ll probably spend the rest of my life figuring it out. I’ve embraced that I “see life differently”. 

Embracing ADHD though, doesn’t mean I’ve stopped questioning what might have been different had I been diagnosed with ADHD and learning issues earlier—unfortunately. Perhaps one day.

i’ve got scars i’m willing to show you.
you had heart that i’ll never see
she had answers to all the wrong questions.
it’s funny, these answers are all that i need.

caldecott tunnel, something corporate

From twenty-one to twenty-six, things have changed a lot in those five years since my diagnosis—many, if not most, for good. I’ve written before about wanting back certain elements of myself from certain points in my life—coincidentally, today, I feel I might be closer to that. Whether a method of procrastination or of opportunity, I danced today for the first time in ages. I paused once in that 34:40.61 span of time to make a note in my journal—another activity, like exercise, I did much more frequently in 2011-2013 than I do now, and one I am obviously better off for doing—both in general and specifically for my ADHD.

During that time when I was flailing around “dancing” (because I can’t dance, and I don’t care, ‘cause it feels good), I also again remembered it was my ADHDaversary, and reflected on that, too. How I’m still the same but, because of the knowledge packaged in a diagnosis, so different at the same time.

When busing back and forth from assessment appointments, I listened to a lot of Something Corporate, and found specific relevance in Caldecott Tunnel. Mostly for this one line in the midst of the process—and for the one above after the fact.

we end up regretting the things we don’t try.

caldecott tunnel, something corporate

Here I am, five years later. Appreciative of and still wanting everything I know now, but also wanting elements of my twenty-one-year-old-self—who was figuring shit out much the same as I am now.

And knowing somehow, someday I’ll get there—or a different version of here. And will continue to embrace the good of ADHD… and work on doing better at embracing the moments I hate my ADHD, seeing the not-so-good for what it is and working with it. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy the journey—because let’s be honest, an easily distracted and differently thinking mind has to be a lot more interesting to live with than a neurotypical one. Not that I will know that world, and nor do I want to. 

If I had a normal brain I wouldn’t be me, after all. And being me has been a pretty wild ride so far.

I think the added impulsivity helps with that. 😉


I’ve got a lot of amazing allies who have been my biggest supporters through the earliest days of questions and all of the days since I got the answer of ADHD. Jay – as always, without you I am unsure I’d have persisted in accessing the assessment—thank you for all your support finding resources early on, and in the last five years. Seriously not sure where I’d be without you. Tash – for throwing e-mails back and forth in all phases of the process. and sharing your own adult ADHD/ASD journey with me so candidly; you pushed me to learn more about myself. The Smart Girls with ADHD admins—Beth, for creating SGwADHD, Nikki, Liz, Nathalie and Matti. Rob, Theresa, and everyone else I’ve connected with online. Thanks for helping me to be more awesome.

I’ve probably missed some of you. If you’re reading this, well, you likely deserve to be on this list too. Thanks for being a part of my story.

the other side of ADHD

Usually, I embrace ADHD. Last night was not one of those nights. I posted this on Instagram last night, and figured I would post it here too. Because ADHD is not just a punchline; it’s not a joke. ADHD is more than distractibility, more than “hyperactivity”, more than forgetfulness, more than what people “see”, and way more than people perceive it to be. Way more than many people can even try to understand. It is real.



A post shared by kerri (@kerriontheprairies) onFeb 20, 2018 at 10:34pm PST

Most of the time I embrace #ADHD. Tonight, I hate it. 
I hate how it makes literally everything more effort. Everything. I hate how it sometimes makes me a person I don’t want to be. It’s not an excuse, but it’s also not my fault. I hate how it’s a series of paradoxes. I hate what it does to my emotions. I hate how I’ve been trying to calm down from something stupid for over an hour now, after two other hours stuck. I hate how it, and in turn I, manage to ruin an otherwise great day. I hate how it doesn’t make sense and how it’s so hard to explain to others. 
Yes this is real. And it sucks. And on nights like tonight it’s hard to embrace my own #neurodiversity.

I hope tomorrow I get my ground back. Tonight, I hate having ADHD. 
Thanks to the amazing people who reached out on twitter. You have no idea how much I needed to know you’re in my corner. 💜 (via The Mighty/ADDitude)


Usually, I don’t get down on my ADHD. Last night was not one of those nights. 
And I’m still “feeling it” this morning pretty hard, from a three hour experience of over-emotion and over-thinking, and all those things. Compounded by the wrong kind of hyperfocus. The hardcore emotional effects of ADHD are not well enough explored, and they are still hard to navigate.

some will learn, many do
cover up or spread it out
turn around, had enough,
pick and choose or pass it on.
buying in, heading for
suffer now or suffer then
it’s bad enough
, i want the fear,
need the fear, cause he’s alone
fear has become, cause he’s alone

well if they’re making it,
then they’re pushing it,
they’re leading us along
the hassle of all the screaming fits
the panic makes remorse.

after all, what’s the point,
course levitation is possible
if you’re a fly, achieved and gone
there’s time for this and so much more
it’s typical, create a world
a special place of my design
to never cope, or never care
just use the key cause he’s alone
fear has become, ‘cause he’s alone

over and over a slave became
over and over a slave became

well if they’re making it
then they’re pushing it
and they’re leading us along
the hassle of all the screaming fits
that panic held before

well if they’re making it
then they’re pushing it
and they’re leading us along
like a cancer caused
all the screaming fits
and their panic makes remorse

leading us along (vitamin r) // chevelle 

it’s not a label, it’s a bridge (part two)

I know I have ADHD. I’ve worked at embracing that, at changing the way I perceive things about myself because of ADHD, at being more patient with myself because of it. I write about it enough here, and share about it enough elsewhere (like Twitter and Facebook), that I’m cool with people knowing that I have ADHD. But, back in 2013 when I had my psychoeducational assessment done, the tests came back inconclusive for ADHD. They gave me specific points to work off of at school: try certain study strategies, receive accommodations, and consider ADHD medication to see if they alleviated my symptoms. I did all of the above—and they all helped. So, I became more certain that I had ADHD. After several months on meds, I became positive. But, I hadn’t seen it on paper. Paper really changes nothing, I know ADHD is real, I know ADHD in me is real, but paper told me my tests were inconclusive. And I think I needed paper to tell me, inside, even after two years on meds, that inconclusive was no longer the case. So I can finally stop those doubts.

Once a year, I see my psychiatrist. Yesterday was that day. I got a new prescription for Concerta, and asked her to fill out a form enabling me to access support services for students with disabilities, as I plan to return to school in the Fall(-ish) and study web development. Because that’s a good combo with a degree in gym, yeah? I hand my doctor the form, and she fills it out as I stare at her doggy in the corner (her name is Haley and she is cute. I was very excited that my doctor had her in the office today!). I quietly take my phone off the table beside the leather chair I’m sitting in and take this picture. (Haley came to visit me in the waiting room, too.)

I slide my phone back down, into my lap. Dr. G turns to ask me, “How severe would you say your symptoms are?”
“I thought that was a weird question–I really have no idea how to answer that.”
“Let’s see what psychology said.”
She flips through my chart, reads some pieces of my assessment to answer the question, and continues on with the form. We discuss my previous accommodations, she notes them down and asks me to review the form. Looks good (I realized last night that we forgot to note down the alternate format textbook accommodation, but that can be dealt with).

As I reviewed the form, though, I had to do a double-take.

Diagnosis: Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. DSM-V Diagnosis and classification number: 314.00. Retinopathy. Symptoms: inattentiveness, distractibility, some impulsivity, [arrow pointing down] vision. Severity checkboxes. Mild, moderate, and severe with an X beside. X beside permanent condition.

Because, her classification of my ADHD (314.00 on the DSM-V, or “Primarily Inattentive”) as “severe” is a lot different from “inconclusive” that I previously saw in writing.

i would but just can’t seem / to ignore what i can’t see.

—cause, let it happen.

As always, this doesn’t define me, but helps explain me. Like many ADHD-ers, I just felt different for much of my life: it explains the frustration, the self-doubt, the guilt that was associated with not being all people thought I should be, the huge shift I’ve felt in my world on meds, the issues I had in school, the issues I had/have at times interacting with people, the sensory overload, all the freaking feelings that sometimes just overwhelm me. ADHD helps explain that. Those things are all a part of me, and so is ADHD.

Now I know that yes, I fit solidly into this obscurely shaped non-box that is ADHD. I think, maybe, that just knowing that will help me move forward a bit more now. Accept my quirks, accept how they fit into this journey, and to roll with it, ‘cause I’ve seen it not only in me for myself, but on paper for myself.

It’s complicated to coexist peacefully with something that is so much a part of me, but simultaneously has dramatically impacted my life in perhaps not the most positive ways prior to my diagnosis. I can’t do anything about that, though, so I’ll continue to own this piece of circumstance—even if, for today, I can’t grasp the “severe” bit. Though it doesn’t really matter anyways—it’s all about how I choose to see what I’ll do with ADHD today.

i used to blame the circumstance: now i see it’s in my hands.

—effect, let it happen. 

This is what ADHD looks like.

But, I am far more than ADHD.
And I’ll embrace the good that has come with those four letters, too.