After being diagnosed as an adult with ADHD, I learned how little I knew about it; since I never felt its symptoms I thought it wasn’t affecting my life. Now it seems ADHD not only defined me as person but also, saved my life.
It took me eight months to write and publish one post for this blog, to give you 43 Reasons Why You Should Read It (and Netflix Should Buy My Show) Once, this used to take me no more than a couple of hours and a few days of “It will never be perfect; publish it!” Now, something has butchered my attention and my IQ, and it’s aiming to my pride.
Frustrated and eager to publish a second post, this past August I searched for a psychiatrist specialized in neuroscience. I’ve met countless psychiatrists throughout my life, who diagnosed me with “ADHD / Don’t worry, you’re smart and hyperactive”, chronic depression, chronic stress, anorexia nervosa, hyperacusis, panic attacks and ‘PTSD of a lifetime’,” and who put me on meds that never worked and even made me feel worse; it feels like I’ve been swiping left on “Pshychinder” for a lifetime.
But, after meeting Dr. K, I believe, “It’s a Match!” (Gift list will be available asap) Following an exhaustive and exhausting investigation, he concluded that all the evidence points ADHD as the primary suspect in the case of my attention’s and IQ’s massacre.
He showed me its profile and I spewed: “I told you I had it!… but it is not what I thought it was; Where were the signs? Why didn’t I ever see them? ‘That’ was my hyperactivity? Why do I need medication now?” Then, as I was researching to answer those questions, I spewed a new one: Did having ADHD save my life?