Jamie

ADHD, RSD, and Grief

TW: death of loved ones, grief, loss

I’ve always struggled with strong emotions. Especially related to sadness and grief. I draw the connection between stronger than normal emotions and ADHD due to the fact that ADHD includes an under-performing and/or underdeveloped prefrontal cortex (PFC). This is the logical, reasoning, executive-functioning center of the brain. So with that not working at capacity, it leaves the door open for the limbic system (which controls emotions) to play a much stronger role.

What does this look like for me?

Probably the most frequent place you’ll see this is when I’m watching movies or television or reading a book. I will react much more strongly than people around me, especially when negative things happen. I will often have tears in my eyes and sometimes break out into uncontrollable sobs. Even if a story is just kinda sad I may sit there with a lump in my throat, unable to speak without crying. Good examples from media that have impacted me this way would be the recent finale of The Good Place and the openings of two movies: Up, and Star Trek (2009). Each one of these brought me to tears and still do.

I also have a hard time dealing with plots where things are going very badly for the protagonist. A notable example happened while I was reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. So much awful was happening in that book: Harry was in all sorts of major troubles yet felt isolated from his friends and Dumbledore, Umbridge had taken over the school, and things continued to get more and more bleak with the return of Voldemort. My wife can tell you I nearly gave up on the book though I dearly love the series. I just can’t take that much negative without feeling overwhelmed.

What about real life?

So these examples are well and good but they really only exist because I feel these strong emotions about real-life people and events already. I have been working with my therapist quite a bit on this lately, because there are some events in my life that I’m definitely not over yet, though years have gone by. I’ve come to the realization that I don’t necessarily have to get over them either, but I am still left trying to figure out what to do with all these feelings.

My grandma Mary died 5 years ago today, but I still feel the grief associated with her passing as acutely as if it happened yesterday. She loved me more than anyone else ever has, and in a way no one else ever has. Grandma’s love was unconditional. And absolutely so. I was always welcome with her. I was always safe with her. I knew I would always be so. She cared about what was going on with me. She would ask about books I was reading and would read them herself. She wrote letters to me and taped hockey games for me. Whenever there was an important event in my life, she was there, every time. After she passed we found she had saved every letter I’d written her. Ever.

I love her so much.

I think of her often. Nearly every day. I try not to think of her deeply though, because when I focus on her, I am reminded of the depth of the loss that I feel and I will quickly fall into a wet, teary mess–just as I am while writing this post. I have put reminders of her all through my house. These include: blue plastic cups and monogrammed silverware from her house, angel figurines that I had once bought for her, and a map of Ireland that I bought at an Irish family history conference–a conference I attended because after her death I became hyperfocused on researching my Irish roots, which came through her family line.

My wife and I have been married for nearly 16 years. During the first 6 years I came to know a wonderful man, my wife’s grandfather, Eugene. He was so kind. He always showed genuine interest in what we were doing and I felt as welcome in his home as one of his own grandchildren. When he passed away in 2010, it was a huge blow to his entire family. We of course went to the well-attended funeral. During the eulogy, I was overtaken by grief and broke down into embarrassing, uncontrollable sobs which I could not stop. I was so loud, and sitting right in the middle of one of those long church pews in the center of the chapel. There was no way to get up and leave, and my wife was doing all she could to quiet me down as she processed her own grief.

I couldn’t understand what was going on. Yes, he was a great man. But it didn’t make sense to me why I was feeling this grief so intensely and outwardly. It was more visible (or at least much louder) than reactions from his own wife, children, grandchildren…more than anyone else in that chapel. I couldn’t keep it under control. I don’t think I’ve cried so hard in my entire life, before or since.

So why did I have such a strong reaction to his death? And why have I continued to struggle with the grief related to my grandmother’s passing, even 5 years later?

I think RSD is the key.

If you’re not familiar with RSD, the basic idea is that you perceive rejection, even when it isn’t there. So where there’s disagreement, you may read confrontation. Where there’s a helpful tip for improvement, you may hear criticism. Many ADHDers experience RSD symptoms and it is believed that they are taught through experience: as we have suffered so much rejection throughout our lives, we begin to anticipate it everywhere.

What’s the relation then?

When it comes to moves, television, and books? I think I simply pick up on the stress, anxiety, and strong emotions of anger and sadness expressed in the lives of the protagonists in the stories. I am acutely acquainted with these frustrations and emotions in my own life and my empathy response simply cries out when I see even fictional suffering.

When it comes to those real-life losses, I think I have an explanation for that too. It’s admittedly a very small sample (2) but I’ll hope that you as the reader might chime in and let me know if you feel that I’m on the right track. I believe the passing of these two amazing people hit me the hardest because they never triggered my RSD. Ever. They both loved me unconditionally. They were always safe.

So it hurt the most to lose them.

Everyone else in my life has either been too distant to matter in this way or they have hurt me somehow. Well, enough at least that my RSD is wary around them and I have to be at least somewhat on-guard. It was never so with Mary or Eugene. Seeing either of them was like a ship entering the safe harbor from the raging, stormy sea. I could drop my guard and just be loved for who I was. Period.

If you’ve got people in your life like my grandmother and my wife’s grandfather, please do all you can to cherish your time with them and enjoy your relationship with them as much as you possibly can. Call them. Visit them. Write them letters. Tell them how much you love them and thank them for loving you in a way that few know how to.

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ADHD Voices: Laura

My name is Laura. I was born in Japan, grew up in Texas, moved to Utah to attend Brigham Young University and didn’t leave. Leave Utah, that is. I have a degree in English Language and a minor in Editing, which I mostly use to tell self-described English experts that Shakespeare’s English sounded more like Captain Barbosa than Captain Picard. I am also married and have two children.

I have ADHD, and here is my story *insert Law and Order dun dun.*

Talk to me

For starters, I didn’t talk until I was 3 ½ years old as the result of ear infections. Because I was speech delayed, I received special education services through my school district. I had speech therapy from preschool until I was in second grade. In second grade, I was struggling in the normal large classroom setting and I was placed in Resource (small group classes) for specific subjects. Honestly, the fact I was struggling in my normal classroom for those subjects should have been a clue, but it was all (understandably) swept under the “speech delayed” rug.

I had teachers call me a daydreamer. I also kept a messy desk. More clues. I still remember my second grade teacher dumping the contents of my desk into my lap when I was struggling to find a pencil for the spelling test. With enough guidance and engagement, I did quite well in school, especially in my Resource classes. In fact, I was transitioned out of the Resource program in fifth grade when it was decided that I was doing well enough.

Then I started struggling again. Mostly I struggled with verbal instructions from the teacher. I would get in trouble for not paying attention, when I really was. I also got in trouble for forgetting small supplies, losing papers, or not getting something signed. In fact, my fifth grade teacher once kept me inside for recess for an entire week because I didn’t get a spelling paper signed. Let’s just say my second and fifth grade teachers were not very nice people.

Silence isn’t always golden

My family moved into an inner city school district the summer before I started seventh grade. That school district didn’t care about my history, which was kind of a blessing because I could have a fresh start. This district already had its own problems with behavior, overcrowding, and finances.

I became “the quiet kid” and the teachers LOVED me. All I did was behave myself and do my work. There came a point after I got to high school when I decided I wanted to try a few advanced placement classes because my regular classes seemed too easy, and I wanted to look good for college applications.

Ooooh boy did I get in over my head. You know how my “quiet kid” label was good for regular classes? Well, in these advanced classes, you actually got graded for how much you contributed to class discussions! Sometimes for as much as a test grade. WHAAAAAT????? This…was not ideal. Somehow I did enough to get passing grades, but I certainly didn’t excel.

There was also the note taking. I had a hard time paying attention to the teacher and taking notes. How do you take notes when a teacher is talking? What do you write down? How do you decide what’s important enough to write down? These are just a few of the thoughts that went through my head when trying to take notes. Let’s just say I could never be a court stenographer.

Put your shoulder to the wheel

College was another beast. I struggled. A lot. I had more than one college professor say, “You’re clearly smart, what the heck is going on?!” I had no explanation. I started going to the college counseling center, where I was sort of diagnosed with anxiety. I got talk therapy for two years, and I guess it was better than nothing. Did I mention that I got on Academic Warning not once, but TWICE?! I struggled with time management and getting my priorities straight. Also again, the note taking problem.

“Laura, you’re better than this!” I would tell myself. I would also wonder, “But…am I really better than this? Maybe I am just stupid.” My friends and roommates also commented on my ability to completely zone out, like I was in my own little world. Especially when I was using my computer.

I somehow managed to graduate from college in four years with under-treated depression and anxiety, and undiagnosed ADHD. My GPA was pretty bad and I had been in academic trouble more than once. How did I manage to graduate? Extreme stubbornness, most likely. I also got married the day after I graduated. Yup, I did that.

The next few years were one struggle after another. Partly because of the Recession, and also because I do not interview well AT ALL, it took me nearly a year to find a job, only to get laid off a few months later. Despite living in a small, one-bedroom apartment and having no children to chase after (except for the boy I nannied for a time), I still couldn’t seem to keep a consistent cleaning schedule and clutter was a problem. This was on top of adjusting to married life and everything that came with it. I finally started taking antidepressants during my first pregnancy, which helped.

When my first daughter was almost two years old, I decided to go back to therapy. This time, I found out I had moderate depression, severe anxiety, and symptoms of PTSD. I started doing EMDR, which honestly was one of the best things I’ve ever done. I was able to make peace with some things and I was better able to manage my depression and anxiety. I also believe that this got me into a place to eventually accept that I have ADHD.

Despite the psychotherapy and antidepressants, I still struggled with basic daily living. Housekeeping was still an unending battle and the clutter was still taking over. I could have a really good day/week where I would be on top of everything, and then I would fall into a deep depression where I couldn’t do anything. Now I know that those “good” days were actually me forcing a lot of energy into doing the things.

While my daughters were loved and cared for, establishing and enforcing consistent boundaries were my weaknesses. I vacillated between being overly permissive or overly strict. I thought it was just my anxiety and depression, it didn’t occur to me that there was something else.

You think I have what?

My mom was the one who suggested that I look into getting diagnosed with ADHD, noting our extensive family history. I have a brother who was diagnosed with ADHD during childhood because (a) he was clearly “hyper” and (b) young boys in the 1990s were more likely to get diagnosed than girls. Several members of my extended family (even going back generations) have symptoms of ADHD as well, though few have been diagnosed.

At first I scoffed. How could I possibly have ADHD? I’m not hyper! I have depression and anxiety! Out of curiosity, however, I decided to do some Googling. The more I read, especially by and about women with ADHD, the more I saw myself. “Wait a minute, could it be ADHD?!”

So began my search for someone who could test and treat me (if I did indeed have it). Then there was actually making an appointment and then GOING to the appointment. I was so nervous that I wouldn’t be taken seriously because of the stories of women having a harder time getting diagnosed. I was also worried about being accused of drug seeking, since many of the drugs used to treat ADHD are controlled substances.

I feel incredibly fortunate that I was taken seriously. Both by my nurse midwife, who told me her husband had just been diagnosed himself and by the psychiatric nurse practitioner who evaluated me. The moment the words “Yes, you have symptoms of inattentive ADHD” were uttered, I felt so much relief. My entire life made so much more sense! I wasn’t lazy, stupid, or crazy…I had ADHD!

However, there was also a grieving process of sorts. Missed opportunities, my failures and shortcomings, damaged friendships, etc. Also the anger over not being diagnosed sooner, but I try to remind myself that I grew up in the 1990s, and the phrase “it was the 90s, we didn’t know anything” applies.

What happens now?

I am currently taking medication for ADHD. We’ve had to tweak it a bit, but now I am seeing how good life can be. I am learning more and more about my diagnosis, and how I can better live my life with my diagnosis rather than fighting against it. My house is getting cleaner. I can honestly say that I am a much happier person.

Of course, I know that medication doesn’t always work for everyone. Even people who are related. Remember the brother I mentioned earlier? He tried all the available ADHD drugs in the 1990s (stimulants, mostly), but the side effects were much worse than the actual ADHD. As a result, he went unmedicated for about two decades. In the last few years, he has gotten on a non-stimulant drug that has been great for him. Me? I’m on an extended release stimulant that is working great.

My point is, no two ADHD cases are alike. Sure there are the common traits, but everyone manifests them differently. If you’ve met one person with ADHD, you have met ONE person with ADHD. I personally don’t exhibit a lot of the stereotypical traits of someone who has it, which I will elaborate on at another time.

In conclusion….

If you suspect that you or someone close to you has symptoms of ADHD, I would look further into it. If it’s for say, a loved one, approach the matter with sensitivity. Respect their choices and be supportive.

If it’s you, be kind to yourself. You are not defective–your brain just works differently, and that’s OKAY. If you are worried about taking medication, I would like to gently remind you that it’s no different than needing insulin for diabetes or an inhaler for asthma. It’s a tool to help improve your quality of life.

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If you’d like to connect with Laura, she can be found as
@adhd_curl on Twitter and @curlymamaonabudget on Instagram

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ADHD Voices is a series dedicated to sharing the stories of folks like you and me who have ADHD. Posts in the series are written by guest authors, sharing windows into their lives and struggles, written by them, for you and me. If you’d like to share your story, please contact me on social media or through my email, ADHDsurprise @ gmail.com

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How I Passed As Neurotypical For So Long

The descriptors neurodiverse and neurotypical were two of the first words I encountered when I connected with the ADHD community on Twitter. If you’re not familiar with them, a couple of down-and-dirty definitions you can work from are these:

Neurotypical: describes those who have a brain that works in a typical manner.

Neurodiverse: describes those who have a brain that works differently.

Like I said, down-and-dirty. The biggest, tallest part of the bell curve is full of folks with typically-developed and typically-functioning brains. Most expectations you encounter in life, whether they be at home, school, work, recreation, etc., most of the expectations are set up with the neurotypical average in mind.

Learning those terms helped me tremendously, as they put in perspective what I was facing. My whole life I had operated under an incorrect assumption—that I was neurotypical. Given that assumption, when I failed to meet expectations I simply blamed myself. Learning that I was neurodivergent—that my brain actually works differently than others’ do—was life-changing.

When the idea of having ADHD was first brought up to me, my mind rushed back in time and immediately began identifying all of the signs I had missed along the way, and ADHD had run rampant through all parts of my life, for as long as I can remember. At that point my biggest questions were how anyone looking at me couldn’t have known and how could I have not known about my ADHD? These questions ultimately led me to the the underlying question for this post.

Covering ADHD symptoms

I wasn’t diagnosed with ADHD until I was 37 years old. At that time I found clear evidence of ADHD in my life going back as far as I can remember. So what gives? I’ve already addressed why I didn’t get diagnosed as a child, so today my focus is on my adult behaviors. I had developed many strategies, coping skills, and masking behaviors which effectively covered many of my ADHD symptoms and thus made it possible for me to hide in plain sight in the neurotypical world.

Pina created a comic that really resonated with me on this subject. Seen below you’ll see how anxiety can effectively lead one to mask many aspects of ADHD. Many of her shown examples are true for me as well. The thing with masks is they’re not real. They give the appearance of wellness, but they are simply covering the internal struggle.

Why I didn’t get diagnosed until 28 and was told I’m “too quiet” to have ADHD✌️
(Alternative title: How instead of getting ADHD treatment I developed Anxiety to cope)#adhd #adhs #tdah #comic #comics pic.twitter.com/JrO2W5MD2f
— Pina✨ADHD Alien Comic (@ADHD_Alien) August 9, 2019

So how did I pass as neurotypical for so long?

First, I have a lot of strengths that the neurotypical world loves.

Being creative
Starting projects I’m excited about
Problem-solving
Performance
Talking the talk
Pulling off great work under pressure
Helping others
Excellent written and oral communication skills

These help me to navigate most tough situations. When my feet are put to the fire and I’m up against a deadline (which I probably procrastinated) or a major consequence, I am doing my very best work. I am excellent at job interviews because it’s a performance. To me an audience acts like a deadline and flips that switch of unimportant/disengaged and all of a sudden I care immensely and can hyperfocus in that moment. I rock interviews.

But I also have a lot of weaknesses and/or ADHD symptoms that I have learned to cover, mask, or otherwise support or accommodate so that they are not obvious to the casual observer. Here are some of the things I have done to mask ADHD symptoms. Mind you, I was doing all of these things before I knew I had ADHD. They developed naturally as I tried to make up for or hide my shortcomings (as measured by neurotypical standards).

Things I was doing that masked or hid symptoms:

I was drinking 5+ cans of Diet Coke per day. Only after I learned about how stimulants interact with the ADHD brain did I realize this was actually a rudimentary form of self-medication.
I have carried the same fidget in my pocket for over 14 years. I have always used it when meetings get too long.
I rely heavily on Google Calendar to know where I’m supposed to be all the time.
I have taken mental health days regularly throughout my career, particularly when facing high anxiety or intense stress
I have used home as an outlet for negative emotions and behaviors that I simply cannot show at work without major consequences.
I am hyper aware of things like my phone and keys because I am prone to losing them. It’s almost an obsession to not let them out of my site or their places.
I take notes during meetings to help me listen to what’s being said.
When all else has failed, have flat-out lied to cover up symptoms.

So what does this mean for me now?

I know now that my brain works differently from neurotypical brains. So I can let go of the notion that I need to meet every single standard in the neurotypical world. Sure, there will always be some I can’t get away from or can’t make accommodations for. But I’m better about picking my battles now. I forgive myself more easily. I don’t simply get down on myself for being lazy or incompetent. I get to set my own bar.

I reach out to other ADHDers to gauge how they might respond to situations I’m in. I helped create an online ADHD support group largely for that purpose—so that when I’m not sure if the thing I’m facing is an “ADHD thing” I can quickly find out. Learning more about ADHD and connecting with others who have it has continued to be a critical part of my personal development. I also seek treatment for my ADHD through medication and therapy. By combining reasonable expectations with effective plans and meaningful supports, I find it easier than ever to navigate the neurotypical world.

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