Most of my adolescent and adult life, I have felt like an impostor: my internal life, not matching the external one. Appearing to others as an organized, smart, capable and confident person. Inside, fearing the day they would realize I was none of those things. Others seemed to be able to move through life so seamlessly while I struggled with the every day and mundane. This only intensified when I had a child. Having more than one child was unimaginable. I waited for the day when the chaos of my mind would triumph over my ability to fake it and all would know me for the fraud I was.
I'd be lying if I said I felt like a fraud 100% of the time. Sometimes I did feel organized, smart, capable and confident - but it would be for a short period of time when I was able to laser focus and get in the zone. Sometimes the state of flow would last for days or even weeks - then I would drop the ball on something really silly, but that something would result in negative attention from a teacher or a boss and I'd be completely knocked down again, for days, weeks, months or more. I could never understand why I kept sabotaging myself. Was I afraid to succeed? More likely, I was afraid to fail - so I wouldn't try at all. Regardless, I was only capable of two settings: confidently full speed ahead or full stop feeling broken and hopeless.
I was on a quest to figure myself out - who was the real me? Why did I swing back and forth between extremes? Why couldn't I be happy even though I had a wonderful husband, child, career and life? I read everything I could get my hands on to try to figure out what was wrong: self-help books; spiritual guides; nutrition/health information; and countless organizational tips, magazines and books. I tried yoga, meditation, pilates, countless paper organizers, organizational apps, therapy, anti-depressants, gluten-free, dairy free, practicing gratitude, positive thinking, acupuncture, changing jobs, changing apartments, moving cities, travel, cutting out sugar and alcohol and many, many other things.
I did see changes and improvements, especially with therapy and changes to my diet, but eventually it seemed like I'd hit a wall and I just couldn't go any further. None of the theories or explanations for my issues rang completely true and nothing made a lasting difference. Yes, I had anxiety and depression but that was not the whole answer. No - I was not bi-polar. Yes, my parents were divorced and I'd struggled with their remarriages - but that is such an old and tired excuse. There had to be something else that explained it.
Then, at the age of forty-five, in a wonderful example of serendipity, a potential answer presented itself. It was an answer which had never crossed my mind or the minds of my family, teachers, therapists, doctors, employers, or friends: Adult Attention Deficit Disorder (AADD). How I realized I might have it and what has happened since (it's only been a month), is the subject of this blog. The more I learn about myself and AADD, the more I want to share the lessons with those that it might help. So - here I go on a journey to find my true self.
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