WRITTEN BY ELIZABETH GUTHRIE DESIGNED BY EMMA KUMER PHOTOS BY LETA DICKINSON
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“It’s about time!” That’s how my best friend reacted when I revealed my attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) diagnosis. He’d known me since I was six, and he had seen what a chatterbox I always was. He knew I would forget to raise my hand sometimes before blurting out an answer. When I wasn’t chatting away during class, I often sat quietly, immersed in my own elaborate daydream, and the next thing I knew, the class was splitting off into groups for some assignment and I’d ask, “Wait, so what are we doing?” I knew he grew tired of my constant tardiness, and I was embarrassed by my messy room, though cleaning it always seemed too overwhelming. He saw me procrastinate on projects, and he comforted me through my volatile emotions. But I had no explanation except my own shortcomings for nearly 20 years. When I went off to college, I struggled to tackle
the hours of homework before me. I sat in the library with friends, wondering how they could just sit there and write a paper without having to take breaks every five minutes for a BuzzFeed quiz. I read online that behavioral troubles and academic struggles were common symptoms of ADHD. I realized my inability to focus wasn’t normal, but I doubted I could have ADHD. My teachers often laid into me for talking too much, but I never really got in trouble. I’d always struggled to focus in school, but I still made great grades. So how could I have it? Throughout Spring Quarter, I kept telling myself I’d see a doctor, then continually put it off. Over the summer, I continued to doubt my hunch, but I finally made an appointment just before beginning school in September. I received a diagnosis for predominantly inattentive ADHD. It wasn’t exactly good
news, but I couldn’t help feeling excited at the discovery of a name for what I’d been experiencing my whole life; all of the symptoms I’d grown up with weren’t just my fault. Suddenly, I had a new identity, and it came with new medicines, stigmas, misconceptions and understandings of myself. I realized that for 19 years, I’d been navigating a world that was not built for my brain. For the past year, I’d been traversing an environment that can be especially difficult for those whose brains don’t function typically, from hours of unstructured work to intense academic competition. But I realized that I was not alone in these struggles – Northwestern is full of students like me, learning what it means to live in a world not designed for us. More specifically, I’m not the only young woman dealing with the discovery of a new diagnosis.
