(In honour of ADHD Awareness Month, we’re giving space to the voices that matter most — those with lived experience. This special feature is written by our guest contributor)
There are effects that are positive, and others that are negative. You have probably heard plenty about them, and how to manage forgetfulness and stay organised. What often gets overlooked is the internal frustration that comes from the negative side. I might eventually recover what I’ve lost, but what about the grey cloud that hangs over me because it took so long for me to find. There are many examples I could give of that cloud. But I want to talk about the black storm that arrives with my sadness – and how I deal with it.
If I can withstand the black storm, the grey clouds lose their power.
Maybe I wasn’t invited to a party, or everyone else gets along better than me. My deepest kind of sadness has always been social. If you have ADHD, I’m sure you have heard of Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria. At times, it can be the smallest, most insignificant things that break me. The line is thin, and once I’ve crossed it, it can feel impossible for me to get back. My brain breaks down everything, and I will know that whatever happened isn’t a big deal, and yet the storm persists. My happiness is bright and explosive, but my sadness is intense and consuming. A small bump for others is a car crash for me.
I don’t always have a neat way to tidy up, but once I write down my feelings, it gets a little easier. My notes app is filled with monologues and detailed break downs of different events. Putting those emotions into words, whether it’s through writing or conversation, gives them shape. Talking about my passions gives me bursts of excitement, and talking about what knocks me down eases the lonely pressure in my chest.
I have never been open about my ADHD. Growing up – and even now – I have carried a quiet resentment for it. It took me a long time before I realised the parts of it that make me who I am. There is a spark of creativity, a depth to my feelings, and an ability to throw myself wholeheartedly into the things I love. What once felt like a burden has slowly begun to feel like part of my identity.
