magickedteacup reblogged your post “hey i hope this isn’t too intrusive of me, but have you ever researched ADHD? Specifically, ADHD in women. I have it,…” and said
I don’t know if this is going to be helpful to comment, but how you described the way all of this is affecting you, especially in the tags, makes me think of something we’ve been talking about in my communication disorder class, but about how like, a lot of these conditions, ADHD, disabilities related to autism, all these various learning disabilities and so forth, aren’t generally “cured” they’re managed. And some people have access to better managing systems or treatments or so forth than others for whatever reason, but that doesn’t mean their conditions magically go away. But anyway I thought about how you commented more than once that you’d resigned yourself to never getting cured and just getting on with things to whatever degree you can, and I think it’s admirable that you really have always shown determination to do what you can with what you have. And honestly you always sound like you’re always getting piles of things done that are also important to you, between the writing and raising a million baby chicks and driving between farm and work and all kinds of things :)
Aw. It’s sweet of you to note that, really it is. Yes, I do do a lot of things in my life, I don’t sit around miserable or anything, and I’m overall just fine.
And I know it’s not a thing you can cure– a lot of it is literally just how I am, it’s not a disorder per se, I’m just like this, and if you changed that you’d be changing my personality.
But it’s also something that can be treated and managed. There are resources available, strategies and therapies and, yes, medications. I know that there are. If my mother had gotten me a diagnosis she might be right in that it would have labeled me and possibly held me back, maybe colleges wouldn’t have admitted me whether that’s legal or not, maybe I would have been hurt by thinking I couldn’t because of my diagnosis.
But it also would have gotten me access to resources, would have let me talk to people who know coping strategies instead of trying to piece them together myself out of tortuous research and contradictory quackery. And I could have tried medication, maybe, or at least evaluated whether it would help me, instead of being antidepressants that I think have permanently harmed me.
I’m angry, furiously angry, because I’ll never know. Because so many people who sound a whole lot like me speak so fondly of the work they’ve been able to do on themselves with the right guidance, and all my attempts to get that kind of guidance have been condescendingly rebuffed.
Maybe there isn’t really help! But I’ll never know, because I can’t get it anyway.