Update: I posted this earlier but wimped out and took it down. I really don’t like talking about myself in this much detail. After receiving a couple of extremely useful messages, though, I’m posting it again in the hope that it might help someone else. Two Kossacks independently suggested that what I describe may indicate high-function AS. I plan to follow up with my therapist. Thank you and Happy New Year to everyone!
I’ve always known that I’m a little off.
Perhaps many people feel this way. I know about cognitive biases and try to recognize my own, but this is something that has stalked me since the edge of memory.
I never really fit in at my grade school, for example. There were more bullies than friends. Some of it was the bad hair and cheap clothes. My skinny, unathletic awkwardness probably didn’t help either, but a big part of the problem was my utter lack of social skills. I wanted more than anything to just be normal, but that was an impossible dream.
I was slow. It was difficult for me to keep up with conversations. I couldn’t respond to taunts — I would simply freeze up under an avalanche of thoughts and emotions. It was difficult to process things that came easily to the other kids.
Reading was a chore, too. I had no trouble understanding the words, but would sometimes have to reread a passage several times before the content would sink in. I could pay attention in class, but it didn’t take much for my mind to wander.
I was a good student, though. Very good, in fact. A gifted and talented, straight-A type. I did well on standardized tests, though would sometimes struggle to finish reading comprehension portions. I was also quiet and well-behaved. To an adult, there was no problem that needed to be fixed. The bullying was just something that I would have to deal with.
My social situation worsened considerably in middle school. This probably isn’t surprising — I think everyone has a hard time during these years. I was picked on incessantly and mercilessly. I dreaded every day. On one occasion I was attacked by three other boys. These were strangers who punched, kicked and mocked me for no apparent reason. I guess I was just an easy target. I remember my last day after three years at that school and the massive sense of relief I felt. I could finally leave it behind me, or at least try.
Things were better in high school. To my surprise I even dated a little bit. I continued to do well academically. Plenty of scholarships followed, which was nice because without them I would have been working my way through college.
I don’t want this diary to become an autobiography, though. Life continued. I went to college, got married, defended my PhD, and now have a beautiful son and a nice career.
Still, some of the difficulties persisted and manifest themselves at times.
In graduate school, for example, I had pretty severe impostor syndrome. I struggled at times with concepts that in hindsight were relatively simple. Reading was still a chore and lectures were almost useless to me. I was easily and deeply distracted by a single unrecognized technical term or slightly different notation. I would spend hours stewing over problems, letting my brain attack from every angle until something sensible worked its way through. Afterward, I would be annoyed that the book or professor had been unnecessarily cryptic. I often had to rewrite homework sets multiple times until I worked out all of my stupid mistakes and the grader could follow my answers. Compared to my peers, I clearly had a different style of learning.
I’ve never been any good at parties — all of the competing threads overwhelm and exhaust me. It probably doesn’t help that I also have social anxiety. I can talk too much and repeat myself when I get going. Then I realize what I’m doing and the anxiety increases.
My mind still tries to wander while I’m listening. It helps to avoid eye contact so that I can better concentrate on what people say, but then I worry about not maintaining eye contact. At times I find myself mouthing their words in an attempt to process.
My efforts at organization are largely fruitless and I won’t buy a smart phone for fear of losing it.
I also have muscle tension issues and fidget almost every waking hour. My hands always shake when I try to control them.
Recently, due to some personal matters I will not go into, I started seeing a therapist. I was mostly interested in working on my moderate depression and anxiety. However, after a few sessions, the therapist suggested that I might have ADHD. We went through the symptoms and he said that I was borderline. At the very least, he thinks that I have ADHD tendencies.
So now I’m trying to process this. If the diagnosis is correct, what does it mean? I nearly cried when I thought of the difficult moments in my life through this new lens. It wouldn’t change my identity or provide an excuse for my failures, but the idea is appealing in some ways. Perhaps I could make use of tools and techniques that I have not previously considered. It would also provide some peace to know that there is a name for the way my brain works and that I am not alone.
I’m forever and always a skeptic, though. I’ll need more data and time before I can accept and internalize even a borderline ADHD diagnosis. There could be other explanations, of course. It will take some effort to sort all of this out.
If anyone out there with ADHD has any thoughts, I would love to hear them. Thank you.
