How ADHD Ate My Brain and How I’m Coping Now That I Know

I’ve not been shy about sharing the story of my finances. I’m not embarrassed (anymore) to talk about something so personal. At 54, I’m in my I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ERA (Deb’s version). I’m not laughing at what ADHD has done to my life. (OK, well, I’m laughing a little because it’s my way of coping.) If I don’t laugh, I don’t feel like I can move forward. ADHD brains are notorious for getting in the way of things we need to do. Some describe the ADHD brain as driving a car super fast and using bicycle brakes to stop.

In March I was diagnosed with ADHD. I thought that my brain (and personality) were a certain way because of all the shit I do in my everyday life. It never occurred to me to get an evaluation for always being late or for interrupting people or for leaving things to the last minute. I thought that’s how everybody was. Of course I have a crazy life. Single mama, caregiver, primary breadwinner, decision-maker, cat wrangler. Always leaving myself and my needs last because that’s what Latina mamas do. We give everything up for our families. I didn’t know that this isn’t normal or healthy.

More Women Are Demanding Evaluations

People who were raised and socialized as women are demanding to know what’s wrong with our brains and insisting on evaluations. We’re realizing that whatever this is that’s happening in our brains and bodies isn’t normal. Being dismissed is exhausting and makes us feel like we’re locas. We’re tired of being dismissed. We’re tired of our symptoms being undermined.

And those of us who come from non-white backgrounds are challenging cultural narratives about mental health and expectations about caregiving.

I grew up hearing, “don’t put me in a nursing home when I’m old.” When I moved away from home to attend college, a cousin told me that my mother cried for a year. That’s enough to make anyone feel guilty. It’s especially difficult when you come from a cultural background that places that expectation on you, along with so many other expectations.

We come to the United States and have not only our culture to contend with, but the greater society. We feel pressure to do everything for everyone to keep our families running smoothly. Is it any wonder that the eldest daughter is often derided as bossy, a mandona? That is a colonialist legacy. We come to this country and then have to deal with the bureaucracy of capitalism. It’s no wonder we’re losing our fucking minds.

Living In Between

My life, like that of so many immigrants and children of immigrants, is full of the duality of existence. I was born in Panama to a brown Nicaraguan mother and a white father. My dad’s family in Oregon didn’t always make me feel like I belonged. I didn’t fit in with my Black and brown family in Panama. At home I ate arroz con frijoles and patacones and at school I ate soggy pizza and drank orange soda. At home I spoke Spanish and at school I spoke English.

I translated for my mother, a kid doing an adult’s work. I figured that the cultural balancing act that was mi vida was the reason behind my scatty brain. I’m also the eldest daughter who at a young age, was interpreting, writing school notes for my mother to sign, making phone calls and managing applications and forms for welfare and food stamps.

All the bicultural biracial bilingual shit created an underlying anxiety for sure. It’s a totally common thing (condition? disorder? affliction?) among immigrants and children of immigrants. Ni de aquí ni de allá. From neither here nor there. We grow up with “¿Qué va decir la gente?” and learn to not only reduce the loudness of our culture, the vibrancy and color because we’ve learned to ask, “What will people say?” Combine that with the taboo on mental health care and you’ve got a recipe for undiagnosed and untreated ADHD (and other disorders).

The Trigger for an ADHD Eval

I remember one evening about five years ago when I was talking non-stop in the car with my oldest kid, María. I was changing subjects, interrupting and yelling, “Oh! And guess what?” and “Can you believe…?” This went on for long enough that María asked, “Mama, have you ever thought you might have ADHD?” It sounded like this had been on their mind for a while. I thought they were joking, but deep down we both knew that they said the quiet part out loud.

So I laughed it off and was like, “ay no mama! Of course not!” And their response was “hmm, I don’t know. Something to think about.”

This didn’t come out of nowhere. It was something that I’d secretly wondered, but couldn’t bring myself to admit. That maybe there was something wrong with me. I didn’t believe my eldest son had ADHD. He did well in school, he wasn’t hyper. Giancarlo was a social butterfly, but all families had one of those, right?

Where There’s One…

In 2023, Giancarlo had had enough and requested a diagnosis. He was 19. He underwent an evaluation and the doctor eventually came up with a diagnosis for ADHD. As a freshman in high school, Giancarlo struggled with focus. He would often say, “mama, I feel like there’s something wrong with me. And I assured him there was nothing wrong with him. But deep down I wondered if perhaps he was right. But then how could he be? He just needed to find a sustainable way to do homework and study. He just didn’t have the characteristic symptoms of ADHD.

But as he got older and the pandemic exposed us in all our neurodivergent glory, he became more insistent that he wanted a diagnosis. I felt so much pride that my son had taken his mental health into his own hands. And it inspired me to start thinking that it was my turn to get an eval.

OK, let’s be honest here. My kids practically marched me to the doctor to ask for a referral.

But I couldn’t admit to myself because it would mean I’d have ONE MORE THING on my never-ending to-do list. And I didn’t have the time. Besides, I told my kids that my life was chaotic with caregiving and working and feeding the cats. Of course I was forgetful! Then they schooled me on my (mis)interpretation of ADHD.

My kids reminded me that ADHD is genetic. That is, if you have it, one of your parents has it. And all fingers pointed at me. (My ex-husband isn’t a candidate for ADHD.) Not everyone with ADHD exhibits hyperactivity. And not everyone has all the same symptoms. So I decided to go ahead.

Looking Back

At my physical exam last year in December, I asked for a referral The conversation with my doctor got me thinking. I began comparing things I saw in myself and my past with what I had seen online. I started reading articles and studies, following people on social media. Patterns and similarities started to emerge. Memories flooded into my brain and symptoms that I thought were normal began to make sense.

I started to look back on my life and saw that there were signs of inattentiveness going back to grade school. I dug up report cards from third and fifth grade that confirmed my memory. There were notes from teachers saying I had to pay attention, that I was distracted and didn’t turn in homework. I was in always in detention and bullied for not speaking English correctly. Kids made fun of me for having a mother with an accent.

Then as a teen, I couldn’t complete assignments and I quit the swim team. As an adult, I had explosions of rage. It took me seven years to get my BA. I started projects and jobs, and ended up quitting and giving up, switching to the next best thing. I was fired or quit before I was fired. Even my most recent job, which I loved, became a hardship for me. I lacked support and eventually quit because I couldn’t bring myself to ask for accommodations.

5 Things I’ve Done To Gain Control

1. I learned to ask for help and to advocate for myself. My first psychiatrist undermined how I felt when I complained about the pharmacy not having my medicine. “Well, you’ve lived all your life without it, so I’m sure you can cope,” was her reply. So I switched doctors and started a new medicine.
2. I talk to people who validate what I’m feeling. They may or may not have the same symptoms, but they’ll get it.
3. Body doubling. It helps me more than working alone. While my sister is at her day center one day a week, I go to a cafe. I get my coffee, a breakfast burrito and set to work. I’m at the cafe as I write this! Sometimes I’ll body double with my youngest son. He may need body doubling to do homework or to work on his writing.
4. My phone alarm is my friend. I’ll write appointments and meetings in my paper planner and use Outlook, but everything has an alarm in my phone. I always have my phone and planner on me, but I won’t always remember to look at the planner.
5. Coaching. Whether that’s to organize your daily tasks or your money or your hobby, coaching can help. It provides accountability. Be sure the person you’re working with also is neurodivergent, preferably with ADHD. You need someone who can understand and allow you to feel safe getting vulnerable.

In The End

I don’t say that ADHD is my superpower. I don’t embrace ADHD as a cool or trendy thing to have. ADHD is a pain in the ass and I wish I didn’t have it. Looking back, I can see so many ways it has interfered with my life and kept me from growing. On an intellectual level, I know I’m smart. I love learning. But my ADHD brain has made me believe over the years that I’m lazy or a bad person because I’m lazy. It’s made me self-conscious, wary of others who may think I’m weird because something pops out of my mouth unexpectedly.

ADHD isn’t new. And it’s not something that happens because of parenting. It’s that the world we live in today is so interconnected and little allowance is made for people who deviate from what’s considered normal or correct. So people who are neurodivergent are forced to mask, keep quiet, code switch and succumb to society’s rules about behavior. I can think of A LOT of ways that I’ve been forced to keep up and let me tell you, at the end of the day, it’s exhausting. But I’m rebelling and learning that if someone doesn’t love me at my worst, they’ll never love me when I’m the best version of myself. The fucks have gone on permanent vacay.