Getting by with a little help from my friends and family: My ADHD++ Journey_Part 1

Oct 10, 2024

4 min read

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Being “Lois”

I call it ADHD++ because I have ADHD plus a bunch of other stuff.

My life has always been chaotic. For as long as I can remember, people have told me that I’m “different,” “not like others,” and that I “have a light and energy I need to protect.” They say I “have a way with people,” “see what others miss,” and “live fully engaged with love, freedom, and excitement in a way that most can’t.” Friends and family have often joked about my flaws—my inability to arrive on time without turning it into a production of epic calamity, my knack for leaving things untidy, and my tendency to execute at crunch time despite the chaos. My emotions run deep; I give 100% of myself to family, friends, and causes I care about or work I commit to.

I’ve always lived this way, loved for my quirks, and surrounded by a support system that minimises my chaos. They’ve made sure I arrive where I need to be and have bailed me out of life situations in ways that money could never equate. Years ago, a best friend told me I was the richest person he knew—not in terms of money, but in friendship. My heart and door are always open, my home full of visitors, and my life is full of fun adventures and insane but true stories.

The Hustle of New York City

In 2004, I moved to New York City. Life here isn’t easy, and you learn to hustle quickly. For almost 20 years, I lived in a bubble, trying to prove myself, often juggling multiple jobs while believing this was normal adulthood. I worked hard, played hard, and rested only when necessary. Eventually, I found myself with little time for friends and family. My multiple devices became accessories, and I even took my laptop to a New Year's Eve party, terrified of being without it. My world shrank, and I realised I wasn’t surrounded by my people anymore; I wasn’t myself.

A Malfunctioning Nervous System

In February 2023, my nervous system malfunctioned; my brain circuit blew a fuse, and my executive functioning, which had already given up, failed to launch entirely. I burned out. I struggled to complete basic tasks, feeling like a deflated blob of lost potential and endless disappointment. I was haunted by the ghosts in my head of “not achieving my full potential,” “working hard but struggling to prioritise,” and “knowledgeable but easily distractible.” This wasn’t my first burnout, but it was the most severe.

A month later, my pitbull, Huxley, collapsed unexpectedly. I spent my life savings trying to save him, but he didn’t make it. I quit my position as President of my building’s board of directors and could barely leave my apartment due to panic attacks. Two months later, my job was eliminated.

Ignoring the Warning Signs

Some friends warned me in 2015 that the paths I was considering weren’t for me. I’m empathetic to perceived injustice, I was pivoting out of an NPO into the private sector, and armed with their sage advice, I ran straight into the fire instead of walking away. After all, I am Lois, and when someone tells me not to do something, my instinct is to ask, “Yeah, but what if I do?”

I could talk for hours about why I ended up in this living nightmare, but it’s somewhat boring—boredom was 50% of my problem. Every day felt like a bizarre hi-octane, “Truman Show” episode. I was stuck in survival mode, afraid to relax. I couldn’t sleep, closed myself off from friends and family (self-inflicted), I felt trapped in someone else’s game of life, determined to win even when it was killing me.

Asking for Help and Finding Clarity

As one version of myself crumbled, another was rising—my family and friends met me at my lowest, reminding me of who I am and helping me stand back up. After serious hurdles trying to find help, I discovered a mental health telehealth service called “Talkiatry” and started seeing a psychiatrist. The difference it made to receive the right help from a doctor who listens was life-changing (Disclaimer: they are not paying me, and I have no affiliation beyond being a grateful patient).

I was diagnosed with Major Anxiety Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder, PMDD, Insomnia, and Panic Attacks. The biggest surprise? My psychiatrist suggested I might have ADHD.

A New Diagnosis

My immediate reaction was to reject the idea of having ADHD, something I believed was a label for “naughty boys” in school. I thought, “Girls don’t have ADHD, and grown women certainly don’t.” My struggles were just a chaotic personality, a tendency to say yes to everything, and an absolute lack of time management. I couldn’t control my emotions; irrelevant comments felt like someone was driving a stake through my soul.

After discussions with my doctor, family, and friends, we agreed that I have ADHD—and always have. I take medication now and will likely need to for the rest of my life.