I’ve not written in a LONG time as, well, writing is HARD! And you may not be one-tincy bit bothered as who am I but an occasional writer of stuff who rocks up every now and again on WordPress. And the hard time I’ve given myself about NOT writing as much as I’d set out to at the beginning of my not-quite-writing career has been mega. So, I gave up the concept of writing as I thought ‘writing is HARD so it can’t be natural for me to do it therefore I am NOT a writer.‘
Turns out, writing isn’t the hard thing. Concentrating is. Because turns out, I’ve ‘got’ ADHD.
I’m 39 so this is a later in life discovery for me. and I’m not one for labels and a few years ago I would have literally turned my back to any ‘diagnosis’ as I was living in a deep ‘I’m so fucking spiritual’ world.
OH MY LORD. The past 18 months has been wild, for everyone. I don’t know a single soul not influenced and effected by what’s been unfolding. And for me, it’s been spectrum realisations. And also letting go of ‘I’m so fucking spiritual’ because reality check, I’m just as spiritual as a fly and flea.
In the last year my dad has discovered his Autism (which brought its own healing) and consequently this led to MUCH hyper focused research on my part into neurodiversity as, well I like to feel like I’m knowing something about something. I felt like a nodding dog when reading the stories shared by women who also had a later diagnosis of ADHD. ‘Wait, that’s ME! I bloody align with everything they’re saying!’ HERE.is.my.TRIBE.
And the thing it, it’s not about needing the label of ADHD. It’s about a discovery of WHY my life has been sculpted the way it has by me. WHY I’ve felt so much like an alien in many social and working environments. WHY I’ve found committing to any relationship so flipping difficult. WHY I couldn’t hold down a job. WHY I couldn’t complete projects, any project unless I literally had someone holding my ass up telling me I CAN, and that only came through course after course after course. WHY I can’t focus for more than 30 mins without needing to move, get up, sing, shout, stare out the window or do a wee just to see a different set of walls.
Bloody hell, the realisation has been a revelation to say the least. And it goes deeper, much deeper. I had my assessment a few weeks ago and I’ve been ‘diagnosed’ with combined type. And this is what I think I’ll be writing more about, the neurodiversity spectrum. The WHOLE spectrum because as it turns out, nothing I thought to be fixed about me, is. Now begins the process of integration and re-evaluation of my life, my expectations, my self-belief system. It’s ALL different. The grief is real. The shock is real. The excitement about how these shifts will ripple through my entire reality, is REAL.