Turns out I'm not Stupid (the story of a diagnosis)

 You ever stare at a blank page and have no idea where to start? The emptiness lending itself to so much possibility that it's paralysing? I have so much to say and it's been so long. It feels like I have a plate of spaghetti in my mind and I need to tell you about each and every strand of pasta but it's all just such a saucy mess and I don't know where to start picking at it. Which piece of this slippery mess should I extricate and hold up for you and say "See this one? This one is important because...." ?

You see, I've been feeling like a bit of a mess.  Actually if I'm honest, and I've promised myself  I won't be anything else, I've always been messy in different ways and at varying levels of fucked-uped-ness. Hey, that's probably true for you too.We're all walking around in these meatsacks on this giant rock, trying to have experiences that really mean something. I turned 40 last June, I'm considered to be mid-life at this point (which is rude but I digress) and I'm committed to spending the next 40 years in authenticity and agency and service to women who's minds feel like a plate of spaghetti they can't make sense out of any longer.

Well, when you don't know where to start, there's only one way forward, start with the closest thing at hand. 

I thought I was stupid. I suspected so because I tried in school and while I never failed a grade, I felt like a failure. I looked at the math problems, re-reading them again and again, I rewrote them in my own handwriting hoping something would "click" while transcribing them. I colour coded them, adding orange to anything I thought was signifigant. While the kids around me were nodding and jotting down notes, I was staring at the textbook, feeling sick without knowing why, my feet tapping constantly of their own volition, my pencil twisted into my ponytail, my thoughts bouncing between "Suzie, why are YOU so stupid??" to "It's not my fault, MATH is stupid and I don't even wanna be good at it anyway!!" My gnarly, cuticle-picked hands were clammy. Now giving up on math, I'd be daydreaming about riding a majestic horse down the main road of my 1990's subdivision, right up to Michelle Smith's  front door. Dismounting gracefully while a crowd of jealous girls from the street stood by, wishing they had ponies. I'd knock on that door and tell Michelle that her pool party/Birthday sleepover that she didn't invite me to probably had off-brand potato chips and I heard that she sleep farts. Satisfied, I'd move on to daydreaming about what my mom might have put in my lunch box. Please be a fruit roll up. Please be a fruit roll up. Please be a fruit roll up. Year after year I'd bring home report cards with average marks and searing comments along the lines of "Suzie isn't applying herself" or "Suzie isn't living to her potential" or "Suzie is prone to procrastination and is not actively paying attention in class" or "Suzie hands in work half completed or not at all" or.....well, you get the idea. 

When recess came, we'd spill into the yard and the next feature of my being a failure would pop up.  I didn't quite fit in. I was always in the company of the same handful of girls, none of us were popular by any stretch of the imagination, but even amongst the misfits, I didn't quite fit. Always aware that there was some level of force there, like I was wedging myself in. I'd go on to have trouble navigating friendships through highschool and even into my early 20's. That's not to say I didn't have the good fortune of a couple of very good school friends, I did. Katy and Lindsay, thank you. Eventually, I mangled even those friendships. 

At home, I could never find my homework. I'd lost my hairbrush again. My mother was screeching that I was behind schedule AGAIN because I'd drifted off into a sketch of my ideal wedding dress or was wandering around my bedroom imagining it as a studio apartment in Manhatten. I had a TV in my room at an obscenely early age (sorry mom and dad, but it was bullshit) and when I clicked it off at night later than I should have, I'd lie in bed feeling jittery. Given my age, I couldn't label or articulate the sensation but today I can- I was anxious. That anxiety would never leave me, it's now rooted into my core just as my love of thai food and handbags is. Seems to be inherently part of me and I'm learning how to manage a mind that dives over the edge with minimal pushing. Make no mistake, I said "learning", not "mastered".

When I entered college, I found a field that I was fired up and optimistic to be part of. Every course enthralled me and I felt like an entirely new person as my focus was laser sharp. I could tune out just about anything and anyone if my eyes were glued to a video of a Deaf person using ASL. I'd sit down in our lab (which was equipped with rows of small monitors and VHS tape decks 😂) and I'd watch sign language, shadowing it and recording myself. I'd lose hours, only looking up when the lab attendant told me his shift was over and he wanted to go home. Around the same time that I was falling in love with my future career, my brother was a highschool student. He'd just been diagnosed with ADD. 

Now, bear with me as I say this. The notion that I may have ADD as well NEVER dawned on me. Not once.

Recently, after talking with a colleague who not only shared her story of how she came to be diagnosed with ADD later in life but also shared the questionnaire that her doctor had used to assess her, I got a gut sense in my body that this would be the case for me too. I attempted to fill out the multi-page questionnaire...I kept getting distracted and losing my place...go ahead, laugh. I finally dropped the completed forms off at my doctors office. A couple of weeks later she phoned me and I heard the words "Suzie, your self assessment is highly convincing of ADD and I'd like to try you on meds". She went on to tell me that countless girls are overlooked for a diagnosis of  ADD in school because, unlike typical ADD boys, we don't bounce off the walls or disrupt class. Instead of outbursts, we turn inward and quietly pick apart our own self-esteem. My doctor said there's been a sharp uptick of middle aged women finally getting this diagnosis.  I've been taking a stimulant medication now for a month or so. My feelings about the medication are mixed but one feeling is pure. VINDICATION. The knowing. Knowing that I was never stupid. I wasn't a bad kid. I wasn't trying to amount to what one mean girl in highschool told me I'd be : "barefoot, pregnant and clipping hair in a unisex salon called 'Sal's'"  

I was not stupid, just different. Creative, imaginative, emotional, impulsive and so many other things. None of which could possibly classify a child as stupid or destined for failure. 

My story of my ADD diagnosis is just one strand of spaghetti from the twisted, snarled plate of carbs in my mind. More blogging to come. 

Here's a short list of Key Symptoms in Girls from the website below

-Daydreaming in class

-Feeling anxious or sad

-Exhibiting silliness or apparent ditziness

-Acting shy or inattentive

-Trouble maintaining friendships (!!)

-Picking at cuticles or skin

-Perfectionism

For more info on ADD/ADHD in girls, check this out. 

https://www.additudemag.com/adhd-in-girls-women/