My ADHD
- Aseela Galeeb
- Dec 28, 2022
- 7 min read
Updated: Dec 29, 2022
When you hear “ADHD”, what do you think of? If you had asked me that a few years ago, I would have imagined a little boy in school, wiggling around and tapping his pencil on his desk. To some extent, that wouldn’t be incorrect. But it isn’t the whole story, either.
Before I dive in, let me give a little backstory on why I am writing this blog post. Since being diagnosed with ADHD in summer of 2021, I have learned an incredible amount about myself and my ADHD. Some of my experiences line up with the classic symptoms; others are complete contradiction.
This post includes a short summary about ADHD, as well as the ways it affects my life. Keep in mind that everyone with ADHD experiences it differently.
ADHD 101:
According to the CDC, it is a “neurodevelopmental disorder’, which means it impacts the way the brain functions. There are three main categories, or presentations.
1. Hyperactive Presentation, which features fidgeting, restlessness, clumsiness, talkative habits. This is likely the type of ADHD our imaginary middle-school boy would be diagnosed with.
2. Inattentive Presentation, where an individual struggles with attention to detail, organization, starting and finishing tasks, is easily distracted, and usually forgetful.
3. Combined Presentation, which includes parts of both above types.
I was diagnosed with the Combined Presentation, so I have experienced everything listed above and much more. Presentations and symptoms change with age, but they also change between girls and boys. ADHD is often overlooked in girls, and boys are twice as likely to be diagnosed in childhood, according to Healthline. (Side note: by ‘girl’ and ‘boy’ I mean sex assigned at birth).
A quick Google search will reveal the parts of the brain impacted by ADHD- the executive functions. These skills include attention, focus, concentration, memory, impulse, planning, social skills, decision-making, task-switching, and organization.
I would highly recommend learning more about ADHD. I have provided links at the bottom, some science-focused, others broader.
So, here is some insight into my life with ADHD.
Childhood
The clearest signs of a short attention span and social unawareness began in elementary school. My report cards always read, “Aseela is a bright student, but she struggles with keeping focused” or “she is very chatty in class” or “she misses simple instructions”.
My six-year-old logic was clear: all of my friends are sitting nearby, and the classroom is quiet. It is obviously the perfect opportunity to tell them all about my new pink bicycle. So what if the teacher is saying something? I was talking first!
One symptom of ADHD doctors and experts will always highlight is impulsivity- not thinking before acting. I clearly remember one instance in kindergarten, during an art class. I was holding a paintbrush slathered in red paint. The teacher told me to go wash my brush, since I had finished my piece. The bathroom was down the corridor, so I held my brush and walked. I began brushing the paint onto my other hand, covering my palm, and then fingers in red paint. I remember painting between my fingers, down the back of my hand, nearly to my wrist. Then I was standing before the sink, admiring my artwork, thinking it a waste to wash off my handiwork. I looked at the white, clean sink before me.
So I did the logical thing- I stamped my hand all over the inside of the sink, just like a finger-painting activity we had done a few days ago. I left my handprints on the white marble surface, moved over to the next sink, and washed the evidence off my hands.
School
All of my experiences could be chalked up to a moody, impatient, overly friendly little girl. But things changed in middle school. I realized I was spacing out all the time and missing important instructions. I made the comment to my math tutor, “It’s like everyone got trained on how to be a student, and I missed it.” I tried to explain the weird feelings to my parents, saying that when teachers gave me a lot of information, or I sat down to take a test, I felt like I was swimming through maple syrup.
My attitude changed entirely, and I started blaming everyone else for my own struggles. I was annoyed with my classmates for being immature and distracting me; I blamed moving from Kenya as the reason for being behind in school. For a little while, I managed a C average, barely getting by. Do you know the feeling when someone tells you about a dream they had, and it reminds you of yours, and you zone out because you are so focused on your own? Imagine that, but instead it’s your Algebra teacher explaining what topics will be on the semester final.
Music
The best example I have of my impatience and struggle for motivation comes through my involvement in music.
In fourth grade, my first school year in the U.S, my dad and I went to the orchestra night. The gym was set up with tables of instruments. We could rent or buy them and join the school orchestra. My dad told me to pick an instrument, but I didn’t want to. It looked like a ton of work. He asked me again, and I pointed to the closest violin-shaped thing.
I ended up playing that viola for four years. I joined the school orchestra, and I didn’t like it at all. There were three violas and twenty violins. The teacher never helped us out, even though we struggled to keep up. When I complained to my parents, they enrolled me in private lessons. I refused to practice, though they pushed me to try. They even set up a chore and reward system for me to practice, but even that was not motivation enough. In middle school, I joined the orchestra. The teacher was nice enough, but all the violas were older, and I wasn’t having any fun. So I quit, much to the disappointment of my parents and tutor.
All of my friends at the time were involved in the school choir, which had the same conductor as the orchestra. I asked my parents to join it, and they agreed immediately, grateful that I was finally stepping up. They signed me up for singing lessons, and I hated to admit that I liked it. I still didn’t practice (except for singing in the shower) but I wasn’t half-bad. I even made the district’s Honor Choir. But I wanted to be a part of something bigger than my little school’s choir. So I joined a larger organization, remaining in school choir. And then the pandemic hit.
COVID
School was bad enough for me before it went online. The transition from the last half of eighth grade to my freshman year of high school was mainly through Leave Meeting and Mute buttons. Though it was the same school, it was completely new territory. The stakes were infinitely higher, and my motivation had never been lower. I remember one online choir class, where I was very busy kneading my first loaf of bread. I didn’t want to use the electric mixer, so I was pushing a wet lump of dough around the counter when the choir teacher said, “Aseela, how was your weekend?” I managed to press my elbow to the mousepad, narrowly missing the Camera button, and unmuted myself. “Pretty good, how was yours?” I couldn’t sit still and be a part of the class like everyone else on that screen. I busied myself with organizing my closet, doodling, and walking my dog. My score for Google Chrome Solitaire hit a new high, but my grades dropped lower and lower. The only upside was that everyone was experiencing what I had been feeling in the past several years. The constant feeling of playing catch-up, missing important information, struggling to keep focused.
Diagnosis
When I read through the really long PDF explaining my test results, I felt like crying. It was this mix of relief, validation, and new fear. After all these years, there was this answer. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about my future, or that I was stupid. It seemed almost too good to be true. Not only did I have ADHD, but an underlying anxiety disorder. Have you ever recorded your voice, heard it, and then felt bad to everyone you’ve ever talked to? I wanted to apologize to everyone- my viola teacher, my parents, my friends, anyone I had ever blown up at, or asked to explain the assignment, or cried on until their shoulders were damp.
But there were so many new thoughts to grapple with. How much of Aseela is ADHD, and how much is my personality? If taking this medication makes me easier to be around, does that mean my core is an annoying, talkative, lazy person? Do I really deserve these accommodations in school?
Support
Luckily, I realized help was nearby. My very good friend since the first day of middle school also had ADHD, and I turned to her with my millions of questions. She sympathized, having been diagnosed much younger, she had felt everything I was feeling. She assured me that I wasn’t a terrible person or anything of the sort, just that a part of my brain was struggling to keep up, and that medication was helping it, not changing me. The diagnosis brought us closer. We bonded over the struggles of ADHD, helping each other out when we noticed overstimulation in the other, relating to the minor details no one else could.
While travelling over the summer, I met relatives who also had ADHD. I found a community with other teens online who had the same struggles, but more solutions. Over time, I have become more confident asking for help, finding support in friends and family, and doing my own research to learn more about myself. That is my advice for everyone, no matter what you are struggling with: the struggle hasn’t disappeared, but it is much more manageable with a support network.
More Information
Here are more sites to check out if you are interested in learning more.
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