Part of the assessment process involved my husband filling in forms based on his experiences of living with me. Let me tell you, this was enlightening. I had a lot of protests during this part of the process, accompanied by comments like, “I don’t do that, do I?” and “Is that how you see me?” It’s safe to say it was an eye-opening experience for both of us. My husband has only really learned about ADHD through what I’ve shared with him from my ADHD coaching qualification, and my coaching work, so I don’t think he ever seriously considered that I might have ADHD — at least, not until recently. But as he filled out the forms and thought about some of the things I do, the way I react to situations, and how I behave in everyday life, he started to see a lot of traits he hadn’t noticed before.
When you start to put things down on paper, it becomes clear how much ADHD affects me on a daily basis. I’ve had to pause and reflect on how this has impacted not only my relationship with my husband but also with the rest of my family. There are things I’ve never really thought about in the context of ADHD, but now that I’m seeing it from this new perspective, the realisation of how much these challenges shape my daily life has been quite overwhelming.
As I approach the possibility of an ADHD diagnosis, I can't help but feel a sense of uncertainty about how my family will react. In my mind, I imagine that they might be surprised or even sceptical, but then again, perhaps not. Maybe they've already seen aspects of this in me, and I’m the only one who hasn’t fully recognised it. Telling my family about it is one of the things I’m least looking forward to because I’m unsure how much they will understand. Will they grasp that this is truly a part of who I am, or will it feel like an excuse or a label I’m hiding behind, or even worse, a current 'band-wagon' that I'm jumping on? I think it’s known that women with ADHD often learn to behave in a way that meets societal expectations. We tend to internalise much of our hyperactivity; it’s often not visible to others because it’s going on in our minds constantly. Over the years, I've learned to suppress many of the things I want to do, say, or react to. But there are moments when I’m so overwhelmed that it becomes incredibly difficult to keep everything contained.
So now the forms are submitted, and I await the date for my assessment. Patience has never been my strong point, and the thought of waiting for the assessment date and then the results feels daunting. The past week has been emotionally intense, with highs and lows. I find myself flipping between feelings of relief and dread. On one hand, the possibility of an ADHD diagnosis feels like it could provide context for many of the challenges and behaviours I’ve experienced, but on the other hand, I’m scared of it becoming an “excuse.” I don’t want my feelings, emotions, or quirks to be dismissed as “just ADHD.” The fear that my experiences might be invalidated by a label has been weighing on me heavily.
For my husband, I know this is something he's grappling with too. He’s trying to understand what an ADHD diagnosis means for us and how we can navigate this together. Just because I might have a diagnosis doesn’t change who I am as a person. The challenges I face, the struggles I deal with every day, will remain the same. The only difference is that there might be a name to explain them. This is something that we’ll both need to learn to accept and work through. Neil will have to educate himself on what this all means, how to support me, and how we can adjust our expectations together.
As I reflect on my behaviours and characteristics, I ask myself:
Do I really jump from one interest to another without finishing anything?
Am I terrible at handling money?
Do I ignore post because it just doesn’t seem interesting to me, or I don't want to know what bad news might be lurking inside that envelope?
Am I always off on some side quest, distracted by new ideas and opportunities?
Do I struggle not to interrupt people when they’re speaking to me?
Do I fidget constantly, even when I’m sitting down watching TV?
Do I always seem to have boundless energy, even after a physically demanding day?
Do I have very little patience when I’m queuing or stuck in traffic?
How was I supposed to know that not everyone’s mind is as busy as mine?
These questions have been running through my head as I work through this process. It’s a lot to take in, and it’s hard to know how to feel, but I know that wherever this journey leads, it’s a step towards understanding myself more fully — and hopefully, that will lead to greater acceptance and peace of mind.
To find out what happens next on my journey, look out for Part 9 - "I don't really like people!"