My Life Never Made Sense. Would a late ADHD diagnosis make any difference?

by Mayre Flores 

 I wouldn’t be surprised if many people who are now diagnosed with ADHD had been labeled a “gifted child” in their early school years. I wasn’t considered the “gifted child” — but rather the “smart one.”

But throughout my academic years, I struggled to get through each assignment and exam. I was frustrated, I cried, and I wasn’t sure what to do. The help my parents could give was limited because they faced a language barrier that made it difficult. So, I fought hard for the grades that got me labeled as the “smart one.”

The warning signs

During a parent-teacher conference, my teacher said that my grades were great, but my inattention and processing delay were concerning. To my teacher, I was daydreaming during class and was slower than the other kids to respond. My mom wasn’t worried because my grades showed a student who didn’t display any carelessness. But my symptoms were right there in the open — even at 9 years old. They were just perceived as a quirk that didn’t require any intervention.

When I was 10, I was switched into the “smart” class for math. The teaching methods and the environment were different. I struggled and I fought back tears before every test. I told my teacher that I didn’t feel like I was good enough for the class. I was told that I’d do OK if I stuck it out.

I didn’t.

During my high school years, I got through honors and AP classes because that was what I was supposed to do as the “smart one.” My struggles worsened, and they eventually showed in my grades. And as you might have guessed, I thought I just had to work harder. But would that have fixed anything?

I needed help. I needed accommodations. I needed someone to intervene. And because my inattention and processing delay weren’t treated, I had to tackle the mental challenges that resulted from the lack of treatment.

What was wrong with me?

When I was 17, I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) and depression.

Being on the autism spectrum and masking my way through life, of course I was going to develop an anxiety disorder. And not knowing what was wrong with me, feeling hopeless and inadequate, of course I was going to develop depression.

My college years were a nightmare thanks to the intensity of my major, biology with a pre-medical concentration. I stuck it out — never dropped a class — and hated every second of it.

One day, my organic chemistry professor said to the class: “If you feel like you’re struggling with comprehension, inattention, or simply can’t get yourself to focus, please get tested.” Then he proceeded to tell us about the on-campus resource that was free of charge. He didn’t say this because organic chemistry was hard and we were struggling. He said it because he was a pre-medical advisor who learned how many students need accommodations and don’t know it. He wanted to make sure we were supported adequately.

I played with the thought all year. I kept asking myself, “Is it just depression and anxiety? Or is it something more?”

The breaking point

When I graduated from college and started working, I realized that my struggles weren’t just in my studies.

I made many careless mistakes and was so embarrassed and depressed that I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to get evaluated.

So, I talked to my primary care provider, who had me take a mood questionnaire. That questionnaire described the effects of not being treated. I scored poorly— showing that I wasn’t doing well at all.

Together, we talked about getting evaluated. I was referred to a neuropsychologist, who then touched base with my psychiatrist, telling him that I was getting evaluated for ADHD. Wondering why I hadn’t involved my psychiatrist in the first place? It’s because I wasn’t offered services like that. He did then, however, prescribe medication to see if it relieved any of my symptoms.

The second I started taking the medication, it was as though I had put on glasses for the first time. I cried.

Finally, after getting a diagnosis — the confirmation that I had ADHD and was on the spectrum — life made sense. After all those years feeling wrong, or stupid, I truly wasn’t. I just needed the right treatment.

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Thank you Mayre for giving us permission to share your writing.