A Girl, A Brain and a Million Thoughts

"Boys are diagnosed with ADHD two to four times more often than girls. Between 50-70% of girls are missed or undiagnosed with ADHD during childhood."

The Signs were there - I just didn't know.

Growing up, I never felt I understood the things that were known to many people. Making friends was harder than ever and even when I did manage to create a friendship, it would end more often than not. I felt alone in a world full of people, not understanding why it was easy for other people and not for me.

I didn't like going out much which didn't help with my isolation. I used to stay in and read my books, making friends within a thousand pages. I would never get grounded and instead, if I misbehaved, I got kicked out to play with kids my own age. I never understood social cues nor did I have any desire to learn to. I was just a kid growing up the way that I believed was normal. And I was happy enough with this, until high school hit.

High school to me was the biggest challenge I faced as a young girl. If you are a young woman reading this, I think we can all agree, it was a universal experience. People are mean and bombard with comments on appearance and who you are. This is when I started to notice my differences.

I couldn't sit in class. I would leave or skip school, often enough that I ended up with somewhat of a 'get out of jail' free card. Instead of sitting in a classroom, I would sit in the guidance teachers office and do work solo. I wouldn't be distracted by the whispers of a classroom or the obscenely bright coloured posters on the walls. My biggest pet peeve (and it still bugs me) is when the teacher would wipe out her board but there would still be a tiny dot from the marker left. That's just annoying.

When I started doing this, the isolation became a lot to say the least. I became sad and confused about why I was different. I could tell I was different but I didn't understand why. Around my fifth year of high school, it all became a big much for me. I started going to counselling and missing classes became a bigger habit. I was 15 when I was diagnosed with depression. Having this diagnosis, it wasn't something that I was necessarily happy with, but I was validated in how I felt.

Years went on and I learned how to cope in my own ways. Maybe some mechanisms were better than others but I coped and that was the main thing. I decided to drop out of school after being accepted to university in a different city and I was eager for a change.

Wandering, Wondering and Becoming.

I set off into the big world, alone, at seventeen years old. The thing with me was/is, if you tell me not to do something, I will 110% do it. When I told my family I was moving, they didn't think I would do it. Not necessarily because I couldn't, but because I was a home bird. I liked being in my own space, the safety of my own room which I had created throughout my childhood. Change scared me. Always has and always will. But I did it nonetheless.

My parents drove me an hour to my "new home", and they left. I felt the funny feeling of being alone again, but this time I actually was. I was alone in a city where I knew absolutely no one. I have never admitted this, but as soon as the door shut behind my parents, I regretted it. I wanted them to come back and shake some sense into me. What the fuck was I doing? They would pack my bags and take me home again. But this was home now.

The cycle of education, yet again, caught up to me. I still couldn't sit in a classroom and again, I found it hard to meet people. I cried everyday for at least a month when I first moved. But then things started to look up. I got a job. I met people who became a staple in my life. Who understood me for me and didn't judge me. They didn't think I was 'too much' and they didn't think I was 'rude'. They seen me for me. And I will forever be grateful for all those people (you know who you are:)).

Repetitively, I ended back at counselling and I explained to him my struggles.

"The lecturer wears a microphone and I can hear him smacking his lips every time he talks. People keep sniffling behind me and it's annoying me. What if the stacked chairs fell? How would I get out? I understand people write a lot in Uni, but why is everyone turning their pages so loud? I am not good enough to be here."

He listened patiently to my tangents every week for 6 consecutive weeks. He proposed I see my GP and ask about getting an ADHD diagnosis. I didn't want to because I was scared of having a label. I thought a diagnosis was a negative thing because it meant something was wrong with me.

I have an old friend who understood every part of me. Who would sit and listen to me talk for hours knowing that I would feel better for it, even if their ears were bleeding by the end of it. They would know when I was getting overwhelmed and what I needed to calm down. The days where I couldn't get up, they would sit with me in silence. Silence was a comfort on the bad days. They didn't ask questions because they knew if I wanted to talk, I would. They told me that having ADHD isn't a bad thing, it was just who I was. I felt safe knowing the support I had. So, I made the dreaded phone call. And I thank them everyday for helping me navigate the journey to a diagnosis.

The wait list for ADHD was 4 years. I couldn't wait four years so, I went private. I was 20 years old when I got my diagnosis.

One Day at a Time.

I am now 21 years of age (almost 22). An old friend told me it would all go downhill from here and he didn't lie. However, I have learned to cope in a healthy way. I surround myself with people who are keen to learn who I am. Those who don't judge me for the way I live. Those who don't get angry at me for my bluntness or when I go from 0-100 in the space of 10 seconds. Those who laugh at the fact I forget things and don't get angry about it.

I am learning how to work with my brain rather than against it. Everyday is a challenge. But I'm excited to conquer these challenges. Doing things differently doesn't mean I'm doing them wrong. I wouldn’t say I’m thankful for every struggle, but I am thankful for what ADHD has taught me about myself. It has helped me realise that being different isn’t something I need to hide—it’s part of who I am.

As for younger me,

I hope I'm doing you proud. We did it!