It’s been almost two years since my life-changing diagnosis of ADHD. Suddenly, all of the issues that had plagued me my entire life made a whole lot of sense. I wasn’t stupid — I was neurodivergent, and in learning the true nature of my big dumb brain, I learned to embrace the parts of my neurological difference that made me, well, me. As much as I hated how my brain worked at times, I came to see my ADHD as a sort of blessing/curse, the same way Mei from Turning Red learned to love the red panda she turned into whenever she experienced emotions.
Today, I found out one of my favorite professors had been diagnosed with ADHD over the summer, and just like that, my entire perspective of her changed — she was me! And as someone who aspires to be a professor of music therapy someday, seeing someone in that position who has what I have and is successful was really reassuring. It was like someone patted me on the shoulder and said “Hey Jess, this can be you someday.” And it felt really frickin’ cool, yo.
And it hit me — I’m that to someone. Somewhere out there, some aspiring musician or writer or college student is trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with them, why they can’t sit down and practice or write or study or do much of anything without getting sidetracked. Maybe they think they’re just stupid, too. And it’s my turn to show them that they, too, can be successful with ADHD. I believe everything happens for a reason, and perhaps my “curse” is intended to be used as a blessing for others, just like how Mei’s ancestors used the red panda to protect their loved ones.
I won’t lie and pretend I have it all together. I’m still working on getting my shit together. I think most people are, if we’re honest with ourselves. No one has it 100 percent figured out at any given time. All I know is I have nearly three decades of life experience with this brain of mine, so I’ve learned some tricks on how to utilize it. Here is part one of my “owner’s manual” for ADHD.
#1: You have ADHD
You have ADHD. You. Have. ADHD. That’s not going to change. Your brain is wired differently from most of the world, and nothing can change the way it works. Barring a lobotomy or something, but that will cause more problems than it solves, ya know? There’s a reason we don’t do those anymore.
They say the first step of recovery is acceptance. The fifth step in grief is also acceptance, so get all your feelies out. Journal about it. Bring it up in therapy. Punch something that can be punched (not a person or other sentient creature, preferably). But as soon as you come to terms with the fact that you have ADHD, you can start working toward really living with it.
There is no cure for ADHD. There are treatments to make it more manageable, sure, but there are no cures. Yoga will not cure ADHD. Walking outside will not cure ADHD. Essential oils will not cure ADHD. Heck, Adderall doesn’t even cure ADHD, and it’s literally an ADHD medication. Full disclosure: I use all of the things I listed to help me concentrate and ground myself, but guess what? I still have ADHD, and everything that comes with it.
That’s not a bad thing though!
You see, in music therapy school, and presumably training for all other types of therapy, there’s a push for “person first language” and saying someone has a condition, rather than is it. It’s a way of separating the person from the condition. But I don’t like that for my ADHD. It’s a disability, sure, but it’s also a huge part of my personality and being. It’s like how the autistic community is reclaiming “autistic,” declaring “I am autistic,” rather than saying “I have autism.” In that same vein, I am ADHD. ADHD is a inseparable from me. For better or worse, it’s a piece of me, and nothing will change that.
(To be continued…)
JESSA JOYCE 