We’re a Hot Mess: Embracing ADHD

by Rachel Nichols

My 5-year-old daughter was recently diagnosed with Attention Deficient Hyperactivity Disorder, commonly known as ADHD. Shocker. I’ve known Quinn has had ADHD since before she was three. I have ADHD and believe me, we known our own kind. The child inherited her dad’s eyes and my ADHD. It was bound to happen, as ADHD is highly inheritable, so one of our three children was likely going to have it, too. She is the lucky winner.

My Story

Unlike Quinn, I was diagnosed with ADHD, combined type, as an adult. I embraced the label. If you look at the diagnostic criteria in the DSM-V (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual and Mental Disorders, fifth edition, whew), I meet every single criterion. Every single one. My psychiatrist was impressed that I hadn’t already been diagnosed because, quite frankly, I’m the poster child for adult ADHD. After years of thinking I was just a hot mess, there was a medically documented biological reason to why I am a hot mess.

Finally, an excuse to why I constantly lose my car keys, phone, and wallet. Why I blurt out random stuff or zone out during conversations. Why my house is a jumbled and disorganized pigsty, complete with several unfinished projects. Why I’m always late and lose track of time. Why I chronically procrastinate. Why I generally struggle with most things considered necessary for successful “adulting.” I’m a hot mess because there is some neuro-whatever issue in my beautiful, broken brain.

But I can’t really use ADHD as an excuse, can I? I probably shouldn’t, but I have, and I will. ADHD limits my ability to function like someone who is neurotypical. My house is a mess because I see too many things to focus on, which throws my brain into overdrive and I get overwhelmed and give up. In a sense, it is a manifestation of my “mental disorder of the neurodevelopmental type.” However, I also must be held accountable for the same things I need an excuse for. By embracing and acknowledging your inner hot mess, you take on accountability while also failing at so-called adulting. My house is a mess, partially because of I have ADHD and I have difficulty organizing things. I’ve accepted that it is what it is and it is how I will probably always be, and that’s OK. Our house isn’t appearing in Better Homes and Gardens anytime soon — no shame.

By embracing who I am, and that ADHD is apart of who I am, I understand my own limitations and no longer put on a façade. I am chronically late. When I schedule an appointment with anyone, I remind him or her I am always late. I’ll probably be late because I got distracted looking at cat memes on the internet. Or I was late because I couldn’t find my keys, wallet, or phone.

At the coffee shop, I was offered a coffee cup that I could use to get discounted refills. I told the cashier that I am not responsible enough to bring a coffee mug with me every time, but thanks for the offer. I was honest. Remembering to take the mug into the house, wash it, dry it, and remember to put it back in the car is just simply too many steps for me.

I have accepted that I have limitations and I am how I am. While there is always hope for change, I probably won’t remember to even take a coffee mug out of my car anytime soon. By owning it, I don’t have to make up excuses.

Quinn’s Story

But let’s get back to Quinn. Despite knowing that she had ADHD before she was diagnosed, I really struggled with her diagnosis on paper. When her ADHD began to interfere with her learning, I struggled even more on deciding to pursue medication after exhausting behavioral interventions. So, instead of my husband and I making the decision, I asked Quinn what she wanted to do. I told her medication might help with what she and I call our “brain jumps” because they help me with mine. Brain jumps are essentially my many thoughts jumping back and forth in my brain very, very, quickly. She said she wanted to give it a try. We are still in the early stages of medication, but it is helping her some. ADHD medication takes a while to get right, and it only helps ADHD symptoms. It isn’t a cure.

Quinn was recently recommended for special education services at school. This floored me. She was struggling to learn way harder that we realized. How did I miss this? (Did I mention I have a master’s degree in special education?) Her older brother has a rare genetic syndrome and has a lot of special needs. Did we forget about her by doing everything we could to help her brother thrive? Like any parent would, special educator or not, I have really struggled with this. There has been a lot of guilt and a lot of conflicting feelings, especially from the mother versus educator standpoint.

I finally accepted she needs special ed. I don’t feel like she has special needs. Unique needs, sure, but not special. While we work on her school stuff at home, it is my duty as her mother and as a representative of the ADHD community that I school her in the art of “being a hot mess.”

Fundamentally, this means embracing her so-called “disability.” We’re a hot mess — so what. It’s OK. It’s part of who we are, but not just who we are. We own it. We strive for better, but some days we just can’t, and that’s fine. I can teach her all the stuff I’ve learned to help myself function in a neurotypical world. I can teach her that having ADHD is OK and it is nothing to be embarrassed about.

I can teach her to advocate for herself. ADHD has a bad reputation. For years ADHD has been perceived as a made-up diagnosis for kids who need less sugar or are the products of bad parenting. That ADHD doesn’t really exist. For those whom maintain this mentality, take my daughter and me to the grocery store when we’re off our meds. I dare you.

Sure, there are people with ADHD that really, truly struggle, and have negative life outcomes. But then there are the people — the artists, the doctors, the teachers — who thrive because of their ADHD. We are a creative bunch. We see the world a little differently, which gives us a unique perspective. ADHD gives me many strengths and I think of it more as a gift rather than a curse.

I can teach her that her life, her future, is not defined by a diagnosis. Just because she has ADHD and needs special ed doesn’t mean that she isn’t smart. I am living, breathing proof that someone with ADHD can be successful and have positive life outcomes, even if I’m a hot mess.

The most important thing that I can teach Quinn is that there is nothing wrong with her. Not a thing.

Author: Rachel Nichols • Date: 11/29/2018

About the Author

Rachel Nichols lives in Kentucky with her husband, her child with special needs, her child with unique needs that requires specialized knowledge, and then the child who appears to be neurotypical. In true hot-mess fashion, she completely forgot that she agreed to write this until she was reminded that it was 8 days past due.

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