Archive for the ‘differences’ Tag

Pockets of Organization   Leave a comment

Part of my ADHD is clutter, to a degree that much of my life is messy. Things are just all over the place. If I do get some things into a box, they’re rarely organized or sorted out before they go into the box; they’re just tossed there to get them out the way.

But there are pockets of organization in my life, and I cherish these pockets and hold onto them tightly. Sometimes they’re what keep me anchored when everything else is slipping out of reach.

My kitchen, for example, is always organized. Even though clutter invariably seeps into the room via the counters and the table and chairs, my cupboards and fridge are well-organized and I do have a plan and a process that I follow to get things re-organized.

But there are smaller pockets around the house. My diaper-changing stations are well-organized. I keep them stocked with wipes and diaper cream and diaper pins and Snappis and diaper covers. My dresser drawers are organized — as are my husband’s dresser drawers and my son’s dresser drawers. I have a really well-organized to-do list system in place that works really well for me. My house plants are arranged in a particular order on the table in the large picture window in the living room.

I think that it’s important to look for ability, to notice when there are things I do well, especially when those pockets of ability occur in the midst of (and within the context of) something I have difficulty with due to my disability. But it’s equally important that I be the one to realize it. It’s okay for someone else to compliment me on my organized kitchen, but I’m the one who has to be able to accept that pocket of organization as proof that I really am good at organizing stuff; my chaos is due to a breakdown at a different point in the chain. This knowledge is helpful when anxiety or depression set in. I am good at some stuff and I struggle with other stuff. Same as everyone else on the planet.

It’s just that the stuff I have trouble with is different from what everyone else has trouble with — if not in terms of the specific thing, then at least in terms of degree of difficulty.

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Posted August 27, 2015 by karalianne in Identity

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Acceptance III   Leave a comment

As promised, I’m going to talk about the treatability of ADHD.

Russell Barkley says that ADHD is the most treatable mental disorder. He’s sort of right, but there are problems with that statement. There are actually problems with the concept of treatment as it currently stands.

So let’s look at the concept of treatment and then we can talk about whether or not ADHD is actually treatable.

Society has taught us that it is best to be neurotypical. We should be neurotypical, we should live our lives as though we are neurotypical, and any difficulty we have achieving that goal is a failure. Treatment is meant to bring us “back to normal” – that is, it’s supposed to make us more neurotypical, so that we can live like neurotypicals and have a better quality of life and be happy. Because the assumption is that you can only be happy if you are neurotypical, and your quality of life must be horrible if you aren’t living the same way as neurotypical people do.

There are so many things wrong with this that I don’t really know where to begin.

Let’s start with the assumption that you have to be neurotypical to be happy and to have a good quality of life.

I know lots of people who have mental disorders and developmental disabilities that affect their cognitive functioning, and most of them are happy and have good quality of life. Obviously neurotypicality is not necessary for either happiness or quality of life.

So if that assumption is incorrect, then it must also not be true that we need to live like we’re neurotypical in order to be successful, to be happy, and to have a good quality of life. Which means that treatment in order to be “more normal” is ableist and unnecessary.

Now, that doesn’t mean that treatment itself is unnecessary. If a condition is causing difficulty in an area that really matters to you, and you want help with that area and there is something out there that can help, treatment is a great thing. But the goal of treatment should never be “change my brain and my life so that I am neurotypical,” because not only is that impossible, it’s ableist and an incredibly negative way to approach something that is so pervasive and intrinsic to your life and your identity.

So that’s why the current concept of treatment is a bad one. And I know this is what people think, because I get questions from people all the time asking why they still have trouble with particular things even though they’re taking medication. I get questions asking if medication is going to change their personality. And I get these questions because people are told that medication is the most effective form of treatment for ADHD, and they think that “treatment” means “no more ADHD,” and that’s just plain wrong.

So how treatable is ADHD, really?

Well, in the current concept of treatment (as sort of a cure), it’s not treatable at all. There are no treatments out there that will make a person suddenly have a neurotypical brain. The best medication can do is make it so that our brains function more like they’re neurotypical, so it’s easier to do certain things while it’s in our system, but it doesn’t actually make us neurotypical, and we still have to work at things that neurotypicals find easy.

There are a lot of treatments for ADHD. I’ve listed a lot of them here:

Medication – This is the first-run option. A lot of people never get past this component of a treatment plan, and that’s not great because you need to be prepared if you have to stop taking medication for some reason.

Diet – A good diet that has lots of protein (not like ridiculously high, just higher than average) is important for good brain function. Other important components here include Omega-3 fatty acids (found in eggs and fish, for the most part) and plenty of vegetables, as well as complex carbohydrates (e.g., whole wheat bread and pasta, beans, potatoes).

Exercise – Regular exercise (especially cardio) is amazingly good for your brain! It wakes up your entire body and keeps dopamine in your system, which is great since dopamine is one of the primary neurotransmitters involved in ADHD.

Sleep – When we sleep, our bodies do a bunch of things like healing and rejuvenating. Our brains do that, but they also work through all of the events of the day, committing things to long-term memory and stuff like that. We need to make sure we’re getting at least eight hours of sleep per night to make sure our brains are functioning at their best.

Supplements – Krill oil (or other fish oil), rhodiola, reishi, and other supplements listed here (my father-in-law’s business) can be helpful in promoting optimum functioning. Dr Amen also has some suggestions in his book Healing ADHD.

ADHD Coaching – ADHD coaches help you learn, develop, and implement strategies that work for you, so that you can better manage your ADHD symptoms and be able to do well if you have to stop taking medication.

Talk Therapy – Sometimes you have a lot of stuff you need to work through, so this can be very helpful, whether you see a counselor, psychologist, or psychiatrist.

Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) – This is a type of behavioural therapy where the practitioner (a psychologist or social worker with training in CBT) helps you think through your behaviours and come up with better ways to react to different situations.

Meditation – If you’re able to meditate, this can be really helpful in getting your mind centred and teaching your brain to actually concentrate or focus on what you want it to.

Mindfulness – This is something I’ve been hearing more about lately, and it seems to be about getting us to focus on the actual now and the immediate future, rather than dwelling on the past or thinking really far into the future. Being truly present in the moment instead of jumping ahead in conversations or tuning out because something else caught our attention.

That’s rather a lot. And not one of these things is going to make you neurotypical.

But I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing.

Why should we try to live like we’re neurotypical, when we aren’t? Rather, shouldn’t we be working towards living the best life we can, as people who have ADHD? Yes, some of my symptoms cause me distress and those need to be managed somehow, but other than that does it really matter that my mind makes random connections, that I lose track of time, that I hyperfocus on silly little things?

My life has a number of qualities that are the same as the life of a neurotypical. There are also lots of things about my life that are different and are probably kind of strange. And, of course, there are things about my life and about how my brain works that cause disasters, but there are also things about both of those things that are amazing and wonderful, and I don’t see why the presence of disasters should automatically mean that my life or my brain is wrong, that I shouldn’t be how or who I am.

I am a person. I have ADHD. I am valuable as I am, regardless of how “neurotypical” I make myself seem. And that’s okay. I don’t have to be neurotypical to be worthy of respect, of attention, of achieving success on my own terms.

Society doesn’t determine those things about me. I do.

This is part three of a series. I don’t know how long the series will be or when I’ll post the next installment. I’m not sure what I’ll talk about next. I just don’t think I’m quite finished talking about this yet.

Acceptance II   Leave a comment

My self-esteem has gotten a lot better since I was diagnosed with ADHD. I no longer had to wonder why I was so different from other people, and I finally knew where to look for help with the things that caused me the most trouble in my life. Medication helped manage my symptoms and made it easier for me to learn and implement strategies to help me live my life on my own terms, and those strategies have been amazing for my overall quality of life. But mostly just knowing what the heck was going on was a huge relief.

Labels are not bad. We use them all the time. Every noun is a label, after all. Book, chair, table, car: all labels. Dog, cat, guinea pig, human: labels. John, Sally, Marie, David: again, labels. So this “I don’t believe in labels” that I see from presumably neurotypical people is ridiculous. You do believe in labels, you just don’t like categorizing people by their neurology or perceived brokenness.

Here’s something you maybe haven’t considered: I’m not broken. I have ADHD, and that does not mean that I am worth less than you in any way, shape, or form. I may have difficulties with things that you don’t have difficulty with, but I suspect that I am very good at things that you do have trouble with. Because I am a person, and there are lots of labels that apply to me besides ADHD. For example: I am a woman, I am a wife, I am a writer, I am an editor, I am occasionally an artist, I am a Christian, I am an Anglican, I am a guinea pig mom and a kitty mom, I attempt to be a housewife, I am sometimes a seamstress, I am a cook, and I am an ADHDer. I am also a brunette, I am tall, I am overweight, I am strong, I am enthusiastic, I am silly, I am serious, I am happy, I am a musician, I am good with computers, and I am an adult.

I work very hard every day to do the things that I want to accomplish. It’s not easy because having ADHD means that my executive functioning isn’t very good. But I work at it because it matters to me and because this is something I want to become good at, if possible. I don’t work so hard at this because I want to be neurotypical. I don’t do it so that my life will be more like yours. I don’t even try to do things the way non-ADHDers do them. I’m just living my life, trying to accomplish the things I choose to focus on, in the way that makes sense for me. Sometimes how I do these things is very different from how other people do them. Since it’s the results that matter, not the method, I don’t worry about that… and you shouldn’t worry about it either. As long as the dishes are clean, does it really matter that I wash them in the morning instead of after dinner every evening? Probably not. So I do it the way that works for me.

It took time for me to get to this point. I spent the first 28-30 years of my life trying to make my life what I thought everyone else’s lives were like. You know what you get when you do that? Depression. Anxiety. It’s not a satisfying existence. You’re forever struggling to achieve something that not only isn’t really something anyone does, it’s something that you in particular cannot accomplish due to your neurology. When I was diagnosed with ADHD at 28, I started to figure this out. And it’s only in the last few years that I really began to embrace it.

I have expectations of myself, but they are far more realistic and they take into account the things I struggle with when it comes to getting stuff done. I try not to beat myself up over things I don’t achieve in a given day, because there’s always tomorrow and I can try again and maybe do better then. Things are no longer life or death for me. I have deadlines for work, but it’s a lot easier to meet those deadlines when I’m not also stressing over how many other things I need to accomplish because if I don’t my life is going to fall apart (even though it won’t).

When I tell you that I have ADHD and you respond with “I don’t believe in labels,” you are telling me that you don’t actually care about the challenges I face. You are telling me that you will not be understanding when things get buggered up because ADHD is unpredictable. You are telling me that you are not a safe person for me to be around, because you do not understand the importance of this label to me and my life.

Because ADHD is important. It’s not separable from my identity, because it’s been present since I was a very small child (possibly since birth). It has affected (and continues to affect) how I perceive and interact with the world. I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist, and I don’t want to, either. I want the world to stop pretending it doesn’t exist. I want the world to stop acting like labels are bad. I want the world to stop making labels bad by treating us differently if we have one of these “negative” ones. I want the world to stop caring about how we do things and start caring about what things we do.

I think that it is horrible that there are people who have ADHD and autism and other neurological and mental disorders who are made to feel like they are broken or “less than” simply because they are different.

I am not neurotypical. I have ADHD. I am not broken. I am exactly who I am supposed to be, and I think that is amazing.

This is part two of a series. I’m not sure when the third part will be posted. It will probably be about how “treatable” ADHD is, unless something else catches my attention between now and then.

Responsibility.   1 comment

Someone made an incredibly ableist, bigoted, horrible comment on a very good post about how ADHD is harder on us than it is on the non-ADHDers in our lives. (I would say fantastic but there is some ableist stuff at the beginning about wheelchair users. Don’t worry, the blogger has been informed and responded really well to the criticism; I think I love her now.) This post is basically a response to that comment, which I will not reproduce here because I would need to ask permission first and I don’t particularly want to be in contact with this person directly. But I am going to try and respond to the comment’s points in the order they were made.

ADHD is a neurological condition (not a chronic illness; I am not “ill”) in which our brains simply do not work the same way as the brains of non-ADHDers. It is not our fault that our brains function differently.

[The comment makes comparisons to alcoholism and depression here and I am very uncomfortable with such comparisons, so I’m not going to do that here.]

It is important that people who have ADHD take responsibility for themselves and their lives. Explore treatment options, learn coping mechanisms, and develop and implement techniques and methods that help us manage our symptoms. When things don’t work, we need to be responsible and make changes and figure out what didn’t work and why, so that we can get things going again. Blaming other people is not a thing we usually do; blaming ourselves, on the other hand… incredibly common.

I have taken medication. I was diagnosed in February 2005 and took Concerta, then Dexedrine, then Strattera, then Dexedrine again. I stopped taking medication in 2008. In 2010 I started taking Adderall, and I took it until July 2013. I stopped because the medication was giving me indigestion and causing me to hyperfocus and giving me anxiety. And amazingly enough, the systems I had implemented while taking Adderall held up to the lack of medication. I have now been med-free for eight months, and I am doing really well.

I do not have a job outside of my home. I am a housewife and I work from home. This was necessary due to anxiety and how completely working decimates my executive functioning. Add to that my introversion, and you have someone who really needs to be alone a lot of the time anyway. I have used alarms, I rely on my day planner, I have routines in place to help me stay on task and get stuff done.

Here’s the thing about ADHD: even medicated, even with all of the strategies in place you can think of, even with all of the “fluff” taken out of your schedule (and then what fun is your life?), even with all of those things in place… ADHD is inconsistent. The only consistent thing about my ADHD is its inconsistency.

I lose track of time really easily. This is a hallmark of ADHD. Time is not concrete. I set alarms, I write things in my day planner, and I aim to leave at least half an hour before I need to be somewhere because it takes half an hour to get to the city from my house. In fact, I plan to leave 45 minutes to a full hour early so that when I am actually heading down the driveway it might actually be half an hour before I need to be wherever I’m going. That strategy doesn’t always work, of course. And when it doesn’t, I try to text or call my friends who I am going to be late for (same with babysitting). I don’t have to worry about appointments because I make them for during a weekday and I spend the entire day in the city so that I can be on time for the appointment without having to worry about that half-hour drive.

I don’t lose my car keys because I keep them in my purse. When I didn’t carry a purse, I kept my wallet and keys in a bin by the front door. Most of us have these systems in place. When we do lose something like this, it’s because our system got disrupted somehow. We dropped our keys or got to talking to someone on the way into the house and put them on the counter instead of the bin by the door and then the mail went on top of the keys and they’re missing because looking underneath things is hard.

ADHD is well-known, to be sure, but it is absolutely not well-understood. We have to deal with jokes about squirrels, comments about how we’re just making excuses, articles by doctors about how ADHD doesn’t exist, and diatribes like the one I’m responding to. We are doing our best. We are trying as hard as we can. We are being told, at every turn, that we are lazy, that we are incapable, that we are incompetent, that the label that helps us understand ourselves is fake, that the medication we take to manage our lives is unnecessary, etc. etc.

“Taking responsibility” for our disability (yes, it is a disability for most of us, please don’t pretend otherwise) means trying everything and still failing. It means that sometimes we are going to have to say “I’m sorry, my ADHD makes that really hard. I’m working on it.” It means that sometimes we need your forgiveness and understanding, because we did our best and everything fell apart anyway.

Because, frankly, listening to you tell me that I’m just making excuses doesn’t fly in polite company. It is disrespectful for you to assume that you know all about my life and how I manage my disability. You need to understand that when I have an ADHD-related “oops” that is not me thinking that “I’m soooo special and important and my time is soooo much more valuable than everybody else’s so just put up with me!!” [I quoted that bit directly. It was too perfect to illustrate this person’s attitude.], it is my ADHD choosing to bugger things up so that I look irresponsible.

I am not irresponsible. I am the complete opposite of irresponsible. I am not inconsiderate, either.

What I am is a person who has ADHD.

And that is not an excuse, it’s an explanation.

What’s in a Label?   Leave a comment

I have a cold, but here is me reading my poem. It’s just a first draft but the poem is supposed to be spoken word, so I recorded it. The words of the poem are reproduced after the Soundcloud widget for the benefit of anyone who needs them.

I hope you like it. I hope you learn something. I hope you feel validated. I hope it speaks to you.

What’s in a Label?

I. Identity

This one time someone said
“I don’t believe in labels”
when I told them I have ADHD.
     I said nothing.
     But I wanted to.
I wanted to ask how they describe themselves.
Sexual orientation, gender, hair colour, career, height, weight,
Name.

II. Condescension

This one time my doctor said
“you’ve gone this long without treatment, you can wait a little longer”
when I came in with the file that held my testing results.
     I said nothing.
     But I wanted to.
I wanted to ask if he’d ever been at the end of his ability to cope.
If he’d ever called his mother crying because he’d just spent four hours organizing his books
instead of cleaning his apartment.

III. Disbelief

This one time a relative said
“ADHD is made up by the drug companies to get children addicted to drugs”
when I was driving them somewhere.
     I said nothing.
     But I wanted to.
I wanted to point out
that appropriate treatment in childhood lessens the likelihood of drug abuse.
And that I was taking those self-same drugs so I could function like other people.

This other time someone said
“everyone loses things or is late or gets absorbed in activities”
when I mentioned I had ADHD.
     And this time
     I said something.
I said that everyone does those things,
but not every day.
Not multiple times a day
     every day
     for their entire life.
I invite you to live with my brain for just a day
and then try and tell me ADHD doesn’t exist.

IV. Jokes

Too many times I hear
“Look, a squirrel!” or “Wanna go ride bikes?”
like it’s a punch line to a hilarious joke about my attention span.
     I often say nothing.
     But I want to.
I want to point out that most ADHDers can hyperfocus on stuff longer than non-ADHDers
depending on the circumstances, the topic, the activity…
we just can’t always choose what we focus on.

And then there are people who say
“I had an ADD moment”
when they forgot something for a moment or did something silly.
     I usually say nothing.
     But I want to.
I want to point out that ADHD is a neurological disorder
and if you don’t have that neurology
it’s impossible for you to have “an ADD moment.”

My disorder is not for you to joke about.
You know how when you’re a kid and someone picks on your kid brother
     and you yell at them that
     “nobody’s allowed to hurt my brother except me!”
You know how that is?
That’s what ADHD is like.
My kid brother.
Leave it alone.

V. Excuses

Sometimes I hear people complaining about ADHD
“they just use it as an excuse to be lazy!”
and other things like that.
     I’m learning to say something.
     Because it needs to be said.
It needs to be said that ADHD is a disorder,
that it’s distressing and difficult and invisible and it can look like so many moral failings,
but that’s not what it is and you
are
hurting
us
when you say things like that.

VI. Disability

So many people try to cushion ADHD
“it’s a difference not a disability”
they say, and feel proud for enhancing our self-esteem.
     I speak about this more and more.
     Because it needs to be said.
It needs to be said that disability is not a bad word, not an insult,
not demeaning:
it’s just a word.
And saying that ADHD is just a difference
hurts our ability to get accommodations
and can damage our self-esteem,
not help it.

VII. Reality

My daily to-do list has over 30 tasks on it,
     and that includes eating lunch
     because I forget to eat sometimes
     and because food is hard when it’s just me I’m feeding.
Most days I manage about 10 or so tasks.
     The other day I did over 20 and I was so excited that I’d accomplished so much
I nearly cried.
I have to write everything down or I forget the details.
I have to ask a lot of questions or I miss the point.
I have to take time to think about things or I don’t understand.
I have spent days locked into Facebook or Tumblr,
     refreshing the screen over and over
     even though I know there’s nothing new to look at
     and I need to do the dishes,
     or I want to read a book,
     or I need to start dinner.
I’m not lazy.
I put in more effort to work through the steps to the simplest tasks
     to remember what I came into the kitchen for
     to recall what I was talking about when I forget in the middle of a word
     to laugh at my mistakes when they’re funny,
     to apologize when they’re not.
I put in more effort for all of these things
than probably anyone else
(except other ADHDers).
My successes cost me more than they cost you.

ADHD is a part of who I am
     it is neutral
     it is annoying
     it is fun
     it is exciting
     it is devastating
     it is pervasive.
I don’t know who I would be without ADHD.
It colours my perceptions
     my interactions
     my life.
It’s not a gift —
     some days there is nothing good about life with ADHD.
It’s not just a difference —
     I’ve accommodated it as much as possible and it’s still disabling.
But it’s a part of me.

So what’s in a label?
A label in isolation doesn’t define me
but pull them all together
stuff them into a box
and that box is me.

Accepting disabilities   Leave a comment

Lots is going on right now.

This month is Autism Awareness Month in the US, which means that it’s become Autism Awareness Month all over the world, because heaven forbid other countries choose different months (did you know that Canada’s Autism Awareness Month is actually in October?); today, April 2, is World Autism Awareness Day.

The online autistic community [a group in which I am including allistic – non-autistic – allies] has rallied around Amanda Baggs, a prominent autistic activist, because she is in the hospital and the medical staff had been trying to convince her she shouldn’t get a feeding tube – something she needs because she’s been aspirating so much that without the tube she will probably die sooner than later. The campaign of e-mails and phone calls worked, and she is receiving the tube today.

Lots of other people have written about how the kind of awareness that is promoted by days and months like this leads to situations like Amanda’s. The wider autistic community has chosen to reject the idea of “awareness” and instead promote acceptance of autism.

Disabled people are devalued in our society. The attitude that Amanda has been dealing with is far too common. Expectant parents are routinely pressured to abort fetuses if prenatal testing shows any kind of abnormality (and babies born with disorders like severe apoxia are neglected, on the doctors’ orders). People’s medical needs are ignored because they have mental or developmental disorders. People are encouraged to seek their own deaths, to relieve the pressure on their caregivers. Supposed caregivers (including staff, who are paid to support individuals with disabilities) get away with systematic abuse (of every kind). And supposed caregivers (all too often, parents) are given light sentences after they murder the disabled people they’re supposed to be caring for, because it is so stressful to do so.

Note that the links in that paragraph are for more than one country.

We shouldn’t have to justify our existence.

Every day, I read things from people that basically say “I may be disabled, but I [do all of these things] so I deserve to exist.” The worse ones go so far as to say “At least I’m not [X].” (Where X is a “more severe” disability.) We shouldn’t have to say these things, but we do, because if we can’t prove that we’re worthy of respect and rights and all that other stuff non-disabled people never have to think about, well… people die.

I find it demeaning that I have to point out all of the ways in which ADHD disables me, in order to get people to accept that this condition is real and damaging, and then turn around and point out all of the ways in which I am successful, in order to get these same people to recognize that I am a human being. I don’t want pity, I want understanding and acceptance.

Let’s talk about acceptance for a while, shall we? So many people think that “acceptance” means “stop trying.” I don’t know how to tackle that, so I’m not even going to try. Instead, I’m going to describe what acceptance really means.

Acceptance means meeting people where they are at, right now. It means seeing the person as a whole, not just a small part of them. It means finding out what is important to them, what they want to achieve in life, and what kind of help they might need to get there. It means understanding that people’s differences are important and valuable. It means learning what is hindering people from living the lives they want to live, and working to help them have their lives as they want them. It means quality of life, it means success on their terms (not society’s terms), and it means respecting people.

Promoting acceptance automatically promotes awareness. The more we accept people for themselves, as they are; the more we respect others simply because they are human beings; the more we refuse to be afraid of showing our unique traits to the world… the more the world becomes aware of us, our needs, and our humanity.

I want to write about this more. (October 4, 2012, Tumblr)   1 comment

I posted this as part of a reblog of this post.

I think that a lot of these books (and the professionals we go to for help) don’t give us enough credit. I want to learn something new when I read one of these books, not have all the same old stuff tossed at me yet again. If that same old stuff worked, I wouldn’t be reading yet another book, now, would I?

And I think part of the problem is that they’re approaching the problems we have from the point of view that we need to find ways to make our lives function the way others’ lives function.

That makes absolutely no sense.

Aside from the need to be places on time (like work) and keep a job, why does everything about my life need to look and function the same way a non-ADHDer’s life does?

The answer is: it doesn’t. It really, really doesn’t.

Figuring that out has really opened up my eyes and given me a lot more positive outlook. Finding ways to force life to bend to my brain (instead of the other way around) has been challenging, and I haven’t quite succeeded yet. I still do a LOT of brain-wrangling (read the post I made last night to see how bad it can be). But I have far more successful days than I did when I was trying to make myself fit into a set of expectations that were unrealistic and didn’t make sense given my particular neurology. And while I do think that being able to stay home has had a big impact on that, I don’t think it was vital; since figuring this out, I’ve had plenty of successful days while working full-time (in an administrative position), as well.

I think that we are capable of figuring out how to bend life to suit our brains and still fit into society’s general expectations of “success” and “adult”; we’ve just been taught to think otherwise, because there’s an entire industry that hinges on our need for assistance. I think we can help each other in this pursuit, and we don’t have to spend anything to do that except our internet fees, which we would be paying anyway.

I want to talk about this some more. Because it’s something I only just found the words for today, so now I want to keep adding more words.

I want to talk about how I’m a “strong person.” I lived for 28 years without knowing I had ADHD, and even though I couldn’t figure out how to adult, I somehow managed to achieve “success.”

I want to talk about how I don’t feel strong a lot of the time, and how I spit out the phrase like it’s poison, because it’s something I feel I have to be, not something I want to be or even really am.

I want to talk about how I’m a “successful person.” I have a university degree and completed the coursework for a second, and I worked full-time (or something resembling it) for nearly a decade.

I want to talk about how I have never really felt successful, and how I never feel like I deserve the praise I receive from people for the things I do, even though I know that I do those things well and worked hard to do a good job.

I want to talk about how there’s this thing that happens with some disabilities, where the people who have them are expected to just try harder and be like everyone else. We’re expected to learn to pretend that we aren’t the way we are, and there’s an assumption that this pretending won’t naturally take energy and impact our lives in a negative way.

I want to talk about the other thing that happens, where people refuse to claim the word “disability” and insist that they’re just “different.” I want to talk about the disservice this does to those who are truly disabled by the same thing. I want to talk about how this doesn’t help people who don’t have the disability understand what it is and how it affects us.

I want to talk about how focusing on ability is damaging, too, because there are people who struggle with everything, and people who can’t even begin that struggle, and those people are still valuable as people. And because people change over time, and they learn new things, so condemning someone to inability due to how they present as a child is just as bad as expecting someone to do more than they are currently able to do because they did it before so it’s something they can always do.

I want to talk about how the medical model of disability is awful because it assumes that disability is automatically “bad” and needs to be eradicated. I want to talk about how the social model of disability isn’t much better because it assumes that people are really only disabled due to the expectations society has of us.

I want to talk about how everybody is different, and how that means that the solution to a problem that worked for one person isn’t necessarily going to work for the next person, even if they have the exact same diagnosis. Even if they take the exact same medication at the exact same dose.

I want to talk about how changing my environment and my life situation to better suit my brain hasn’t cured my ADHD. About how all those “experts” who say that ADHDers find it easier to focus on things they enjoy and things they’re interested in are full of shit. About how hard I’m working to get my house in order, because I want it to be comfortable and I want to be able to redecorate and I want to be able to finally organize our books and things like that. About how much I hate my medication right now because it’s making me miserable physically due to indigestion, but I can’t stop taking it or I’ll eat everything in the house and regain all the weight I’ve worked so hard to lose over the last few years.

I want to talk about how disability isn’t “bad,” it just is. Like emotions. Emotions aren’t “bad” or “good,” they just are; it’s what you do with them that matters. Disability exists. People legitimately can’t do things because they are disabled. That isn’t a bad thing, unless the things they can’t do are things they want to do for themselves. And that’s when amazing things are invented. That’s how amazing things happen, how great ideas are born, how movements gain momentum.

I want to talk about how we’re encouraged to go to these professionals, and to read books by “experts.” How this is all geared toward “helping” us act like we aren’t disabled, like there isn’t this thing about us that makes us different, that makes it so certain things are incredibly difficult and others are truly impossible. How people who have our disability and achieved “success” are held up as amazing examples we should try to emulate. How those people are sometimes framed as having achieved what they have “in spite of” their disabilities and sometimes framed as having achieved what they have “because of” their disabilities, and that is really confusing and unhelpful for everyone.

I want to talk about all of these things, and probably more.

I might reblog this and expand on some of these points later on. In the meantime, here it is for everyone else to read and respond to, if you like.