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As I counseled families to obtain clinical diagnoses for their children, I couldn’t help seeing the parallels between the kids’ behaviors and my own while growing up. There were some pretty classic signs. In toddlerhood, while other toddlers soothed themselves by sucking their thumbs, I started biting my nails. I also struggled with various forms of eczema, which gave me ample opportunity for “picking.” Picking at oneself is a common self-stimulatory behavior associated with ADHD. By the time I got to elementary school, my worst stimming morphed into a pencil-chewing habit. I was never fidgety in the classroom, but apparently, my pencil destruction was severe enough to warrant a parent-teacher conference!
Puberty presented with its own unique set of issues so that by the time I hit high school, my self-esteem had already bottomed out. ADHD was not the only culprit here, of course, but it didn’t help. The teen years meant a shift into more traditional symptoms. If I liked a subject, I could hyperfocus and do great in the class. If I wasn’t interested, no number of incentives, cajoling, or even threats could make me perform. If I didn’t like the class or the teacher, I simply didn’t go.
The “straight A” scholar devolved into a resentful, non-compliant student with enough truancy that there was some concern about achieving graduation. I no longer chewed pencils, but there wasn’t a pen cap that was safe anywhere in the vicinity (a stimming activity that lasted easily 20 years into adulthood). I also finally reached the noticeable “fidget” stage in my teen years. My teachers called out my foot tapping and my pen clicking many, many times. I remember being embarrassed because I genuinely did not recognize when I was doing it. To this day, I cannot be trusted with a pen. My husband has been driven insane with my pen clicking on many occasions!
As adolescence gave way to adulthood, I was forced to focus on things outside myself. This lessened most of my previous activities, but then I developed a new stimming behavior—humming. My children have told me that it is one of the things they remember most about their childhoods. Their mother hummed. All. The. Time.
Now, as a full-fledged adult with multiple responsibilities, there was no time for ADHD, at least during the day. And that is how I learned to dread the night. Every time my head hit the pillow, my mind would begin racing through a kaleidoscope of problems, questions, memories, and more. It was hard to get to sleep. It was hard to stay asleep. Nights remain my least favorite time, even after all these years.
Somewhere in the middle of my self-discovery, I was also professionally assessed, including a brain analysis that confirmed I was deficient in norepinephrine/dopamine, serotonin, and GABA. A lack of the first three of these is often associated with ADHD. (The GABA is a story for another day.) Looking back through the lens of education, training, and—well—age, it’s easy to pinpoint all of the symptoms that manifested over the years, but ADHD wasn’t recognized during my childhood. In fact, for most of my adulthood, we were still on the periphery in terms of understanding what it was, how it affected brain function, and how to manage it. I cannot express how grateful I am that my chosen profession led me to a deep dive into the condition. Understanding my diagnosis allowed me to reclaim parts of my life that once felt chaotic—and to offer that same clarity to others.