I’ve lived with a lot of secrecy and shame throughout my life, largely berating myself for being a failure as an adult. Yes, I managed to muscle myself through and complete a doctoral program, but so much of that also came from patient, kind, understanding, and empathetic professors, mentors, and friends who put a lot of effort into assuaging these fears (well, at least enough to calm my brain to get though the next hurdle).
As someone with depression and anxiety (both diagnoses that helped me be kinder to myself but not necessarily developing strategies), I’m not a stranger to approaching my brain and body as needing accommodations and alternatives. I didn’t, however, ever consider I might have ADHD. I knew those kids (mostly boys) in school who literally couldn’t sit still to save their lives. That wasn’t me—I was “good” in school, and “school performance” or “sitting still” seemed to be the only two things anyone ever used around me to describe ADHD. When I began to suspect that MAYBE I do, I had (highly credible and intelligent) friends quickly say, “No. You have a PhD, you read/write well, and you teach. If you did, you never could’ve gotten this far.” So, enter my continued reminders that what must be “wrong” with me, then, is just ME.
Shame piles of boxes and mail and books, standing in the middle of the room for 10-20 mins trying to decide what task to do next, any bill not on autopay getting forgotten/racking up late fees/penalties, starting a million tasks and never finishing them, mentally clocking out and then realizing I’ve lost hours, getting fixated on some tasks and struggling to pull away, telling a story and going down so many side tracks I forget what the point of the story was, sitting down to read/work/write and being pulled every 30 seconds down another rabbit hole, having NO concept of time (what time it is, how long it takes to do things, etc.) and therefore ending up either late to everything (usually) or hella early, deciding I can only tackle one major task a day because “I know I couldn’t possibly fit multiple major tasks into a day—there just isn’t time!”, managing intrusive thoughts, yelling at myself to JUST DO THE DAMN TASK IT’S PROBABLY NOT EVEN THAT HARD then beating myself up for my failure to do said task. The biggest part for me has been internalizing the messages that have been aimed at other people when I recognize the “same” in me: I’m a slob, messy, lazy, forgetful, unreliable, inconsiderate, annoying. These things are all the secrets I’ve felt I’ve poorly hidden over the years. How could anyone love me with these things?
These things have made me a more empathetic teacher to students, but I fear they’ve also made me a nightmare to supervisors, employers, administration, and even (I fear) friends and partners. I frequently thank my friends for “tolerating” me.
Enter this book.
While most of the above characteristics could be tacked here and there to my depression, my anxiety, the sociohistorical context, my upbringing, etc., NOTHING has ever addressed them ALL simultaneously like Solden and Franks’ book. While listening to it there were moments where they addressed a characteristic of women’s manifestation of ADHD and I would LITERALLY BE DOING THAT THING AT THAT MOMENT (hello, several months’ worth of clean clothes I haven’t folded).
Maybe I don’t have ADHD. Maybe I am just “trash” (the internal “not enough” monologue that rings through my head daily). But there are tears in my eyes writing this review for the way I feel seen and normalized instead of shamed and ostracized. And as a result of this book (and some lovely humans who have entered my life and encouraged me), I’m beginning my journey of testing/diagnosis for ADHD, finally, at the age of 37.
So, if nothing else, thank you, Sari and Michelle, for making me feel seen and giving me the language and tools to talk about this journey.