Spoiler: it was ADHD

 

I was 34 before I was diagnosed with ADHD. I’ve seen a lot of talk about how dangerous over-diagnosis is, and how everyone has a label these days, and how these things are just convenient excuses. It makes it seem like something you stroll into a mall and pick up because you’d prefer to not fold your laundry today. That really wasn’t my experience. The diagnosis came after years, decades even,  of on and off depression, anxiety and panic attacks and a few other things thrown in. I won’t go into all of it here, but it wasn’t easy. Or convenient. And if there’s one thing I was terrible at through all of this, it was cutting myself any slack at all. It all came to a head when I suddenly had a job that should have been perfect – but came with absolutely no structure and no hard deadlines. And I somehow couldn’t make myself do the work I was supposed to be doing.

 Diagnosis

The formal diagnosis happened about 6 months after I had self-diagnosed via a twitter thread (thank you @erynnbrook), and the conversation (after 3 straight hours of various cognitive tests) went something like this:

P: Well, I can’t formally diagnose you with autism just based on the tests we’ve done here

Me: But… I thought we were testing me for ADHD?

P: Oh, you definitely have ADHD. You score in the 1^st percentile for impulsivity.

I knew exactly which test a big part of that score had to be based on. It had been completely and utterly impossible, and I had done abysmally. Worse than I had ever done at anything in my whole life. So despite the fact that I had ended up here after a very painful failure, despite the long and exhausting journey through many, many failed therapies and most of all; despite my desperation to figuring all this out once and for all, as this conversation was happening I wasn’t entirely paying attention; I was trying to figure out how to do better at that test. 

The test was specifically designed, constructed, to be very difficult for exactly the composition of my brain chemistry. And the result of it was now giving me the answers I had been desperately craving. And I would probably never have a reason to ever take it again. But as he was talking to me I was half preoccupied trying to figure out how to do better on it next time, and desperately wanted to ask if I could come back later and try it again.

So what now 

I do stand-up comedy as a hobby. I’m a complete amateur, and it’s purely for my own enjoyment. A lot of people seem horrified I get up on a stage and try to be funny in front of people, but you have to understand that in many ways it’s a lot less stressful for me than making conversation in about any other social settings. I know what they expect from me, and I can literally record my performance and count the number of laughs to find out whether it was a success. Also, if I ask my fellow stand-ups how I did they will tell me exactly what sucked (and how it sucked and whether it sucked too fast or too slow or too glittery or with jazz hands). Which is so much easier than not knowing. .

I talked about the conversation with my therapist that evening on stage. I added in a few jokes, but I repeated how he gave me the diagnosis without any embellishment, and it got a huge laugh. That felt so good. Like pride in myself. And for me the diagnosis was in many ways the end of a road, not a new hurdle. A relief, not a burden.

I had done jokes about being clumsy, awkward, nerdy and a bit socially inept many times before. But after the audience knew my diagnosis, these jokes were suddenly received differently. The jokes still got laughs, but there was also… pity? concern? I stopped doing that little bit of my routine letting the audience know, because I couldn’t bear the sympathy. I didn’t need any sympathy for having ADHD. What I probably could have used was sympathy, and empathy and patience all those years I was undiagnosed. Mostly from myself.

but also...

This sounds a bit like having a name for the nameless thing was rainbows and sunshine. It really wasn’t. There was a relief, a massive relief. Even some exhilaration. But it came crashing down, and it came down hard. For at least 24 years , and probably more, I had been pulling myself together. My lack of direction, the bad habits, the unfulfilled potential, the difficulties being on time, the clutter, the all-of-it-ness; it was all going to sort itself out. Once I grew up a bit, found whatever I cared about enough to start achieving long-term goals, and succeeded in pulled myself together. And suddenly I knew all that pulling was never going to change me into someone with a different brain structure, and so I let go. And fell apart.

I’ve now spent the last 2-3 years figuring out how to do things while being kind to myself, and without expecting me to be someone else. One of the things that have helped me the most is the community of ADHD-people who have written, spoken and shared their experiences with the world. This blog is hopefully a contribution to the information out there for whoever finds it helpful.

Was it the vitamins?

When I started seeing my psychiatrist she put me on ADHD-meds, antidepressants and recommended I take a vitamin D supplement. The next time I saw her she asked me whether I had noticed "having more energy from the vitamins". Now, taking vitamin D in Norway in winter is a very good idea. For all I know they may have had an enormous effect on my energy, brain, earlobes and ability to play piano with my toes. But how I was supposed to tell what was happening because of the anti-depressants, what was the ritalin and what was the vitamins I have absolutely no idea. 

I've been on medication for 2 years now, and I still can't tell what is and what isn't due to the medication. One thing I have noticed is that some changes are instant, and others are slow. And some things only turn around once I forget to worry about it for a bit. And some things only get better if I focus on it intensively for a while. But as helpful as medication is, the two biggest things I'm glad I've done is this: treating myself with kindness, and reading and listening to people telling me in a thousand different ways to be kind to myself while I'm figuring things out.

 My point is this:

If you've ever drawn a comic, made a meme, done a podcast, made a video, twotted a tweet-thread or written a book for people like me to come across and find relief from: thank you

What happened to the autism

I don't have a formal diagnosis for autism. My psychiatrist says I probably am autistic, but the formal diagnosis would involve more tests and a new process. I chose not to pursue it because I'm trying to be kind to myself without needing a reason to be. I'm trying to wave my hands if it makes me feel better because I'm allowed to want to feel better, and not get into the thought pattern of "it's okay if I need to do this because I'm autistic". So I can't speak for the autistic community, but I've found so many useful tools and coping mechanisms and useful ways of thinking in the autistic community online. If any autistic people reading this find it useful or want to claim me I'd be honoured.