Last week, after 47 years, I was diagnosed with ADHD.
I’d prepared meticulously for the assessment, largely because I was extremely nervous. And confused. Here was I, a mother in her 40s, seeking clarification from a psychiatrist (a PSYCHIATRIST) about something I don’t really understand – yet in my gut I knew this thing – a faulty wiring in the brain – applied to me.
Assumption number one – Psychiatrist means be-speckled man in white coat with clipboard and specks.
He was smiley and laughed easily, was really warm and just really interested in my brain. And helping me be a lot happier. I’m not a crier (I’m told that’s not a good thing, after decades of being told not to cry and then being hit because I cried) but I cried a lot in this meeting, mainly from relief.
I took my school records and all the forms they asked me to fill in. I also took the two books I’d bought about adult ADHD and it was those that first attracted his attention. Or rather, he was more interested that I’d brought the books.
We got chatting about the books. Then suddenly about 30 minutes had past.
He said, ‘So, how do you think we can help you?’
I was confused – I’d filled out the forms and he hadn’t asked for them. I’d had a two hour interview beforehand. I was distressed.
I said, ‘Can you please, just tell me if I have ADHD.’
He burst out laughing. Then apologised.
He said he thought it was SCREAMINGLY OBVIOUS I have it within the first five minutes.
The last thing he said to me was – ‘It’s going to get a lot better now.’
I believe that. Here is a beautiful video by a beautiful singer to bring that on.