Forget this Whole ADHD Business...

October 20, 2024

I was originally booked to follow up with my doctor about my ADHD assessment in mid-September—the day before my much-anticipated girls’ trip to Austin, Texas, where I was attending a three-day women’s jiu-jitsu and wellness retreat.

True to form, in the days leading up to my trip, I overstretched my schedule and was feeling beyond overwhelmed with everything I had to do before I left. In my frazzled state, I decided to reschedule my appointment for after my trip. Thanks to the state of our healthcare system, that meant it would be another month before I’d see my doctor.

Ultimately, this delay turned out to be a good thing. It gave me the time I needed to really think through my options.

When I first walked out of my psychiatrist appointment, I was flooded with relief, just knowing that there were options. I quickly made a plan to explore them, starting with a break from cannabis. After that, my initial idea was to begin treatment for anxiety and, depending on the outcome, proceed to explore treatment for ADHD afterward.

But as I took more time to consider my options, that plan didn’t feel quite right.

After six years in therapy and countless hours spent reading, writing, and learning about mental health, anxiety, personal development, mindset change, attachment styles, grief, trauma, and behavior change—I’m not going to say I’ve mastered my anxiety, but I’ve definitely developed a vast and powerful skill set to help manage it.

I’ve used those skills time and time again, and they’ve helped me accomplish and experience so much. I’ve left relationships that didn’t serve me and developed deeper connections in relationships that do. I’ve changed many patterns of thinking and incorporated new behaviors that nourish me—mind, body, and spirit.

Do I still get anxiety? Absolutely. 

Does it sometimes get the better of me? Sure. 

But overall, I no longer fear ending up in a situation where anxiety takes the wheel.

When I shared my diagnosis with a good friend—who also has ADHD—she reassured me: “Of course you’re going to have anxiety. Having untreated and unacknowledged ADHD would make anyone anxious.”

At first, I felt a little defensive. It was like the idea that my anxiety might be caused by ADHD somehow diminished the validity of my generalized anxiety. I had subconsciously decided that anxiety was the real problem—so maybe I could just forget this whole ADHD business after all.

But she was right.

The more I thought about it and reflected on everything I’ve done to manage my anxiety up to this point, the more I could see that the things I still struggle with are different from—but just as valid as—my anxiety.

As I came to that realization and inched closer to my rescheduled doctor’s appointment, I had some decisions to make.

I See The Sun on The Horizon

August 11, 2024

It’s been about ten days since I had my consultation with the psychiatrist, and let me tell you—it’s been a trip.

Unlike with my doctor’s appointment, I tried not to put too much pressure on this assessment. Still, going into it, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. I had never spoken to a psychiatrist before and didn’t really know what to expect from him or the appointment.

I did get a chance to speak with my therapist beforehand, and she helped me mentally prepare. She reminded me to focus on the difficulties that I experience, like decision-making, procrastination, and time management, for example.

The appointment itself went well. The psychiatrist was kind and soft-spoken. His tone felt non-judgmental, and he genuinely tried to understand my concerns. He asked why I was seeking an ADHD assessment, and I shared the difficulties I had discussed with my therapist.

He asked about other areas of my life—my work, relationships, and family—and explored my mental health from various angles. We talked about my cannabis use, and I tried to be as transparent as possible. He asked about other substances too, and I mentioned my family history of alcoholism.

I also shared that I’ve experienced trauma and that I’ve been working with a therapist for many years. He responded with compassion but didn’t press me to go into detail about anything I didn’t want to.

We talked a lot about my anxiety—something that’s been part of my life for as long as I can remember, though I only began recognizing it for what it is in adulthood. The anxiety has been with me since I was a child, but for a long time, I didn’t have a name for it. I didn’t know what it was until therapy, and even then, it took me a while to realize that my level of anxiety wasn’t just “normal.”

There have been times in my life when anxiety took such a strong hold that it controlled everything—my thoughts, my actions, even my appetite and my bowels. At its worst, anxiety would rampage through my guts, and I’d sweat and hyperventilate until I felt like the only relief came from purging it physically.

Thankfully, it’s been a while since I’ve experienced anxiety to that extreme. I have therapy, supportive friends, plenty of personal development and consistent self-care to thank for that—as well as changes in my relationships and other life circumstances. Still, it’s fair to say that anxiety continues to drive a lot of my thoughts, behaviors, and habits.

I’m in a wonderfully supportive relationship now. Recently, my partner and I went to see Inside Out 2 in theaters. He and I often joke about our relationship dynamic—because while we have a lot in common, we embody very different energies when it comes to managing stress and problem-solving, and the way we each move thought the world. I’m the highly anxious, emotional partner, and he’s the calm, logical one.

In truth, I think our dynamic has created a beautiful balance. But that’s only possible—at least on my end—because I’ve done the work to be able to share my anxieties and emotions with him. And he’s learned how to support me without trying to fix everything.

If you haven’t seen the Inside Out movies, I won’t spoil them, but I definitely recommend watching them. In Inside Out 2, several new emotions are introduced, including anxiety. Watching the frazzled little anxiety character run frantic circles around the others, trying to come up with preventative solutions for every possible problem the main character might face—I felt an intense wave of recognition.

As anxiety spiraled on the screen, my boyfriend rested his hand on my knee, and I felt hot tears welling up. He looked at me with an understanding smile and a wink, and said something like, “Hey babe, it’s you.”

Seeing that little creature scrambling to prepare for all the “what ifs,” trying desperately to protect her human from discomfort, hit me hard. Sometimes I forget that anxiety often still fuels my action. Even after all the work I’ve done to manage it, it will always be part of me.

As my consultation wrapped up, the psychiatrist shared his thoughts and offered some options:

“It seems likely that you do have ADHD, but it can be difficult to say for sure because of your anxiety.”

He had me complete some assessment forms for Generalized Anxiety Disorder and, with what sounded like certainty, told me I have GAD—even though, through therapy, I seem to manage it fairly well.

“The way I see it, you have a few options,” he said. “You can pursue treatment for anxiety first, and see how that goes. From there, you can decide if you’d still benefit from ADHD medication. Or you can try ADHD medication first, and go from there.”

He also noted that cannabis use can complicate things, explaining:

“Prolonged cannabis use can cause anxiety. And it’s not recommended to use cannabis while on ADHD medication, because the two work in opposing ways.”

He added:

“If you’d like to take things slowly, I recommend taking a month off from marijuana. Then, you could consider starting either an anxiety or ADHD medication at a subclinical dose, and build up to a low clinical dose over a month. We’ll reassess as you go.”

Ultimately, he left the decision up to me and said his report would be sent to my doctor within the week. I could then discuss next steps with her.

When I left the appointment, I felt like a weight had lifted. I drove back to my neighborhood, picked up a pre-rolled joint at the local pot shop, and smoked my last one—for the next month, at least.

I haven’t fully decided what to do yet or what my next steps will be, but for the first time in a long while, I feel hopeful—just to have options.

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I can’t begin to describe 

The relief I felt 

When the doctor who just met me 

Gave a name to my experiences.

I’m not just sensitive. 

Not just a people-pleaser. 

Not just traumatized.

I’m not just disorganized, 

Not just someone with poor time management, 

Not just someone who talks too much.

I have options. 

Wow.

I didn’t think it would feel this good. 

I spent so much time getting to a place 

Where I could even accept that I might need more help.

To decide that maybe, just maybe, I don’t just need to work harder. 

Or build better habits. 

Or take another course. 

Or stop being so fucking lazy. 

Or stop getting so stoned. 

Or stop being… whatever it is I am 

That just hasn’t been quite enough.

I thought I simply needed to find what was broken, 

And fix it.

But I am not broken. 

I just need a little more help.

I haven’t felt this mix of relief and validation 

Since the first time my therapist told me 

That my difficulties made sense, 

Given my history.

Before moments like these, 

I used to gaslight myself.

Telling myself it wasn’t that bad. 

That I just needed to do better. 

Be better.

And in some ways, I did. 

I approached self-improvement 

From every angle available to me.

But the biggest shifts 

Always came 

When I asked for help 

And received it.

And now, 

Finally 

A name for it all.

New avenues to explore 

I see the sun on the horizon.

Just a Stepping Stone

May 12, 2024

I did eventually find the link to the online ADHD assessment I mentioned.

I had to redo my Google research, but at least I managed to get there a little faster this time. Once I pulled it up again, I went through it carefully and did some fact-checking to ensure it was a legitimate diagnostic tool. Then, I left the browser tab open—for about two months.

I told myself I was waiting to get paid from a camp I taught at in mid-March. While it did take some time to receive the payment, I still sat on it for a few weeks after that. Then, a girlfriend of mine—who is both diagnosed with ADHD and a practicing therapist—asked if I had taken any steps toward getting assessed. As I tried to explain my fears about the cost and my discomfort with talking to my doctor, I realized I had been stalling.

The longer I waited, the more pressure I put on the outcome. The more time passed, the more I started to see ADHD as an explanation for all of my struggles and self-perceived shortcomings. The risk of being wrong began to feel heavier.

So, I booked an appointment with my doctor.

I realized that while I haven’t ever been particularly comfortable speaking to doctors, that wasn’t the real reason I avoided this step. And although the cost of some assessment options was definitely a factor, it ultimately wasn’t what was holding me back either. Even after I got paid and found a more affordable option, I stalled.

I stalled because of fear—fear of rejection, fear of judgment, and fear of making my concerns known to someone with the power to validate or invalidate me. And both outcomes felt equally uncomfortable.

But I’m choosing to move toward that discomfort now because the longer I wait, the more unbearable it becomes. Taking action now is an act of self-protection.

Unfortunately, I have to wait two more weeks for my appointment. So in the meantime, I’ll focus on self-care.

June 9, 2024

I saw my doctor last week, and it went about as well as I expected.

Thankfully, a few days before my appointment, I was provided with an ADHD self-report assessment form to fill out and bring with me.

My doctor didn’t ask me a single thing about my symptoms or why I was asking for this kind of support. She glanced at the self-report, acknowledged that I’d scored high, and said she would refer me to a psychiatrist for anything further. While I’m pleased she gave me a referral—and the wheel feels like it's turning slightly—I was really discouraged by how the rest of the appointment went.

She spent a significant amount of time lecturing me about marijuana use, claiming that it puts me at higher risk for stimulant addiction. She warned me repeatedly about the side effects of stimulant medications and ordered an ECG for my heart.

She asked how long I’d been seeing my therapist and whether I started therapy to deal with the grief of losing my mom. I said, “No, actually, I lost my mom when I was 12 years old and didn’t get therapy until I was 28.” 

She asked what I saw my therapist for—if it was to deal with depression. I said, “No, actually, I've never considered myself depressed. I saw my therapist to help with anxiety, relationships, work, trauma—many different things.”

She asked about my work as a personal trainer, how I worked for myself, and whether I was doing well at it. She commented on the economy.

She asked about my relationship—how long we’ve been together and how it’s going. 

She asked about my last pap and the regularity of my periods. I told her about my ever-worsening cramps and that I’d been off birth control for quite a few years. Then she asked, “If you get pregnant, will you keep the baby?” Seriously, that's a direct quote. I said, “Probably? …We aren’t planning for it right now.”

She reminded me—again—that marijuana use carries a risk of lung cancer.

She asked about my asthma and whether I’ve had any attacks. “No, never.”

She commented on my weight, my BMI and praised my active lifestyle.

She offered to refill any prescriptions and said, “I think you look great, you’re doing great, and I’m not worried.”

She ended the appointment by explaining the convoluted process of scheduling with the psychiatrist. Apparently, they’ll call me to schedule—but if I miss the call, I’ll need to ask my doctor’s office to resend the referral, then wait for another call. Every time I don’t answer, my referral goes to the bottom of the list again.

Needless to say, I kept a close eye on my phone—and now have an appointment booked for late next month.

I left the doctor’s office feeling discouraged. Although I am, ultimately, making progress, her lack of acknowledgment for why I was actually there didn’t make me feel any more comfortable asking for her help.

Upon reflection, I can see that I put a lot of pressure on this appointment. I came prepared to explain myself, to justify my reasons for being there—but after one look at my self-assessment, she didn’t even ask.

I thought we’d have a dialogue about my experiences, but it felt more like a lecture than a conversation. I thought somehow this one appointment would give me clarity even though, deep down, I knew it was just a small stepping stone.

I hoped she might approach me with compassion, considering how difficult it was to bring these concerns to her in the first place. But—like many of my experiences with medical professionals—I felt like a problem to be solved or to be passed off to someone else.

She did assure me I’d be in good hands at the clinic she referred me to, so I guess I’ll just have to trust her on that—for now.