It’s the first day of spring and, how they say, the anniversary of the first day of the rest of my life. There have only been three posts here between today and my last ADHDaversary—my fifth. And I can chalk that up, too, to ADHD.

The words from last year’s post are just as true today, except for some numbers that have increased by one. I’m still just doing my best to balance everything (which some days isn’t too good), to try to focus on what matters, to try to be mindful. Yes, ADHD makes that all a challenge, and general life makes it a challenge, too. That’s just how it works. We’re all constantly works in progress and I’m down with that (mostly. I mean, it can suck sometimes having to work at being awesome).

Every so often though, I’m reminded of why I share these stories online. And, without me realizing it this time until my ADHDaversary popped up on my calendar, just that happened yesterday. A friend from high school who I’ve recently re-connected with mentioned her current quest towards diagnosis of whatever may be causing her struggles with executive function (more about WTF that means here), and beginning ADHD medication. I threw her a blog link to my starting concerta post from 2013 and from a Facebook post she sent me a message, and a conversation began. (It also covered where has vegetarian/vegan gravy, because hello, you can’t expect anything to stay topical, who do you think we are? But I digress…)

Again, I was reminded that at least on occasion, people are actually reading this thing. I was reminded that you just never know who your story is going to impact. Not just in this case, but within a single-sentence story my friend told me:
“[My fiancée] originally actually told me about how you were instrumental in her getting her diagnosis and treatment!”

This is why the power of simply telling your story, sharing with people where you’re at is so important. Because someone who comes after you will also be there too, needing that reassurance that they are not the only one. No matter what that story is.

So, I will continue to trust the process that this, too, is getting to the right person, when they need it. 

Your story is important.
Keep going. 

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.

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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.

Until you have been in my brain you cannot tell me ADHD is not real.
Science says ADHD is real.
Why I have to on occasion argue this fact with people, is still very confusing to me. Although I guess it is the same reason people choose not to vaccinate their children and re-start outbreaks of diseases previously eradicated from the developed world—they choose to remain ignorant.

As I once said to Jess in Calgary, “Stupid people are not your problem”.

Sometimes stupid people make themselves our problems, though, which is unfortunate.

Other times, though, smart people affirm what you’re putting out there. (Thank God for smart people!)

Yesterday morning, I shared a video on Facebook about “pill shaming” people with mental health issues. You can see the video here.

And yes, ADHD very much falls into this category. After all, everyone is just popping Ritalin (or now, Adderall more accurately) as a study drug and nobody actually has ADHD, right? Wrong. Obviously.

I have a have a friend who recently started ADHD medication again, after we had a conversation about ADHD on a dark drive home from a friend’s party in the country (I have a half written post about this somewhere that I really need to get out into the world). He, like me, has found the of meds after not treating his ADHD for over a decade positively life altering.

Yet, when he posted this on Facebook, that he was starting meds, the doubters, the disbelievers came. And—thankfully—many of us fought them back with science. I’m not sure disbelievers enjoy PubMed links being thrown at them, but damn it, I went there. Because that is how we fight ignorance and misinformation.

With freaking science.

Yesterday, when I posted the link from Mental Health on The Mighty, I did so with the following text:

This.

I’ve had so many people ask me why I need ADHD medication.
Because there is an imbalance in my neurotransmitters, that’s why. No I can’t just “try harder”. I tried life on hard mode without a diagnosis for 21 years.
Maybe it doesn’t keep me alive like other meds do, but it does make my life so much better.

Six minutes later, my friend from above commented this:

I like how this publicly happened on my Facebook lol

I replied

Um, FACT.
And we SHUT DOWN those haters. 😉

Alongside this, as of the time I am writing this, 20 of my friends chose to “like” or “love” this post. Another friend commented “Yes! Well said.”

There is power in finding people who get it. People who understand.

Because we all spend enough time fighting misinformation. Fighting people who shame you for not trying hard enough, even if you’ve tried harder than just about everybody for decades to get by without medication—often without so much as a diagnosis to understand why your brain is differently wired.

It’s much better when we fight ignorance and misinformation together.

The only way we can stop stigma is to share our stories, and being fiercely proud of our stories—they make us who we are. ADHD is a piece of me that makes me who I am. I’m proud of that piece, proud of my quirky, neuroatypical brain. Of seeing life differently. I chose meds to be part of my journey, to help me harness the joys of my ADHD brain better. Vyvanse (or previously Concerta) doesn’t cure me. It doesn’t make me neurotypical. It just makes me better able to balance the joyful parts of my ADHD with the frustrating parts (and I still get endlessly frustrated with myself. But it’s so much better).

Sometimes medicine is a part of “trying harder”.

And I’m thankful that many of my friends seem to get that.

Hello, October.
Hello, Fall.
Hello again, ADHD/learning disabilities awareness month. 

My last 3 posts have been somehow swallowed up by StableHost following a tech issue last week. I’m really unsure what the deal is, but they have been trying to help me for several days and I am just hoping that I can actually start my October blogging on time. Because, like last year, I have plans.

Plans to hit refresh on the blogging, and this time, perhaps try not to throw myself into too many things at once, although we know that, hello, it is me. That’s not going to happen. Like last October, things will look roughly the same around here:

  • Self-Care Sunday
  • Mantra/Motivation Monday
  • Travel Tuesday (as I still have many things to report on!)
  • Wordless Wednesday (honestly, because I am lazy)
  • Tech Thursday
  • Fun Fact Friday
  • Recap Saturday (in which I will perhaps tell you just normal stories or tales of my ADHD brain from the week.
Since we missed Recap Saturday this week, here is an ADHD story for the week:
 
I went into my room to find a specific hoodie from my closet-I-mean-floor, and I could not find it. I resigned to another hoodie and picked it up and carried it out of my room.
The hoodie I was looking for?
I was wearing it.
Um yes. Hello, ADHD.
 
So, welcome to the adventure, people.
Now let’s hope my blog stays functional. 

The sign outside my friend Diane’s archery range (AKA Heights Outdoors and Archery if you’re a local), at one point read “ARCHERY IS FUN. TRY IT.” 

The sign is not lying. Even though Diane has had to teach me how to do everything properly like three times (so far), ARCHERY IS FUN. I think I maybe mastered orienting the bow tonight finally (trickster ambidexterity-allowing recurves), and yes, when they say to draw your hand back to your face, they mean it and it actually does help significantly, thank-you-very-much.

It may just be me, but as I posted some photos of our archery Special Olympics wind-up on Facebook, I became aware of many parallels between archery and ADHD (and undoubtedly, the archery experience with ADHD). 

To preface this, I must say: Diane is awesome. She and I have a great rapport, and she puts up with my pestering (and returns it!), sarcasm, and repeated need for instruction well. She likes fun and I like fun and that is what matters, people. And although she says archery is like riding a bike and you don’t forget, I can say with some confidence I don’t think I’ve ever gotten on my bike backward like I’ve tried to hold the bow backward or upside down ;). Other than that, everything else she tells me I believe to be accurate. (If you’re in the Peg, you should do archery with Diane.)

I’ve done archery with Diane a good number of times now. The thing is, thanks ADHD, I remember safety instructions because not-death is a motivator, but it takes me quite awhile to get other stuff down. I am just about there, maybe.

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One of the first rounds of the night where I hit a decent number of arrows on the target. And two in that pretty gold area, though not quite centre.

I’ve been told before that I need more consistency to keep my ADHD brain in check. Like, to schedule my life a bit more. Here’s the thing: what is consistency? Also, not exactly interested. I should be, obviously. Had I external motivators, well, I likely would be. 

As well, consistency takes practice. Guess what? I’m not expecting to have consistent archery performance when the last time I shot was six weeks ago. Although, each round today got a bit better (inconsistently, mind you), as I repeated my way through the things that work, and on occasion, totally forgetting. Which is both an ADHD thing and a thing in learning how to coexist with ADHD—being consistently inconsistent or inconsistently consistent about just about everything. (Don’t tell me that doesn’t make sense. ADHDers, you get me.)

Note: I realized later I was like half the distance from the target this time compared to last time. That helps. 

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Hey, I did get two in the gold… Just not where I was aiming on one, mind you…

Especially when I realized when they tell you to put your draw hand against your face basically for a reason. And especially when I actually remembered this part of the instructions. Archery has a lot of damn steps to remember—kind of like life. And attention problems? Yeah, here’s an unexpected area for where executive functioning issues randomly interfere!

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Sometimes, you are all over that shit, without exactly realizing how, even though you are trying pretty hard.

…And sometimes, trying equally hard, less on the mark but still close.
Or… Way off. (…That top arrow ;).)

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And sometimes? You’re THERE and all over it, literally, but you still don’t quite hit the damn balloon. Even though you’ve done it before.

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Who knew a two hour progression through a few dozen arrows could summarize the inconsistency of ADHD life so well? 😉

I’m joining the Manitoba Blind Sport archery program next Fall, because hey, why not? Given I’m already paying a membership fee, the add-on athlete fee is a great deal for archery. Plus, while I’m not visually impaired, I don’t see all that well. Look, I could not exactly see my arrows from halfway down the range, never mind the full distance. And people will know how to deal with my questionable vision. And given I roll around on the floor and announce every ridiculous thing I do at goalball, the same will happen at archery, except not the rolling on the floor part. Except maybe if Guide Dog Murray is there.

My attention issues? Well, I roll with that pretty well, too, since it’s just who I am. And yeah, practice sort-of makes perfect there, too. At least in terms of semi-patience and laughing at myself. And I know this particular archery group, is good at that, too ;).