Understanding ADHD A Personal View

A psychologist in Santa Fe, whom I still see, told me last year that I had ADHD.

I didn’t have a clue. But suddenly, a lot of things made sense. I was the child who couldn’t sit still, couldn’t reliably finish homework and often got in trouble.

As an adult, I was a poor listener. I’d change the subject, daydreamed, or sometimes walk away in the middle of a conversation. I was terrible at small talk and, looking back, emotionally immature.

I remember working as a grocery store bagger. I would sometimes follow a customer to the parking lot, become so lost in thought that I lost track of them, and hear: “Hey, kid, over here!”

What confused me most was that I could also concentrate—extraordinarily well.

During my career in disability rehabilitation, I could become completely absorbed in writing a competitive proposal if the project interested me. I’d write all night. Today, give me a guitar or a compelling book and hours can disappear.

For decades, I explained this contradiction by telling myself I was lazy, careless, and immature. And I carried plenty of remorse and regret.

There is another part of my life I now see differently: alcohol.

I didn’t consider myself a binge drinker, but I often relied on a couple of glasses of wine at the end of the day to quiet my mind. I didn’t call it self-medication. I simply knew it worked, at least temporarily. It seemed to slow the racing thoughts and make social situations easier.

Understanding that doesn’t excuse my behavior. I’m still working on regulating my alcohol use. But it gives me another way to understand why I repeatedly reached for something that seemed to turn down the volume in my head.

I had also become remarkably good at hiding my difficulties.

I found ways to escape long meetings. I took notes I rarely used, partly because keeping my hands busy helped me pay attention. I organized my work so I could function independently.

In other words, I learned to compensate. And I became pretty good at it.

By middle age, I had a successful career, a strong family life, community involvement and accomplishments I was proud of. That may be one reason ADHD remained invisible—not to others, but to me. It seems my friends, family and co-workers knew already.

Some characteristics associated with ADHD—creativity, curiosity, adaptability, energy and a willingness to take risks—can also be useful in business and management. The same traits that create problems in one setting can become strengths in another.

But ADHD also can bring serious executive-function challenges: planning, prioritizing, following through and organizing daily life.

We tend to think of ADHD as a childhood disorder. But some children don’t simply outgrow their difficulties. They grow up and become increasingly sophisticated at hiding them. Some compensate successfully. Others pay a price in relationships, careers, anxiety, depression or substance use.

My diagnosis didn’t change who I was. It changed the story I had been telling myself about who I was.

I don’t have to pretend my mistakes didn’t happen. They did. But I no longer have to turn every mistake into evidence of a flawed character.

At 76, I wasn’t looking for an excuse. I was looking for an explanation.

And I finally found one.

The author lives in Santa Fe with his wife, Judy. He wrote on disability for the Santa Fe New Mexican and spend his career in disability rehabilitation.