(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)
I have mentioned that I hold resentment towards my ADHD. I find it frustrating when my brain stubbornly decides to be upset over something that shouldn’t bother me. But that’s only one part of what has made my relationship with ADHD so difficult.
My life has been a slow process of understanding what ADHD is. Growing up, it often felt like there was an invisible barrier that separated me from everyone else. In high school, that barrier was at its strongest. I went through several cycles of making friends and losing them, until eventually, there was no one left.
Many people treated me with distaste, but that was never the saddest part. What hurt most was looking back, after enough time had past, and realising that so much of it was my fault. I had said things that were inappropriate, acted on impulse when I should have slowed down, and so much more that I wish I could take back.
It often felt like I didn’t know where the boundaries were until I crossed them. It took years of trial and error before I began to feel confident in my social and emotional intelligence. I learnt to listen, not just hear – to pay attention to what people meant, not only what they said. I learnt that silence isn’t something to be feared, but a space that gives meaning to words. I learnt to move slower and be more considerate of others.
Why would I respond with this?
How will it make this person feel?
These two questions grounded me in social situations.
And again, that was but one step within the great journey to discovering exactly who I am.
