It was the million-dollar question that I, and probably everyone else around me, repeatedly wondered: what the f*** is wrong with me? After 36 years and a psychiatric evaluation in the summer of 2019, I finally got an answer through a diagnosis: I have ADHD.
What is ADHD?
ADHD stands for Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder. It is a neurodevelopmental disorder. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, it is “marked by an ongoing pattern of inattention and/or hyperactivity-impulsivity that interferes with functioning or development.” A person with ADHD can either have the inattentive type or a combination of both; I’ve got the combo.
I look back on my life and mostly see chaos, a lack of direction, and intense emotions. I recently learned from my mother that I wasn’t as terrible as I seem to think; she never thought of me as a problem child, but I’m sure she missed many clues. Some of my earliest memories are throwing temper tantrums. I once broke an art piece that belonged to my grandmother because my mom had left me at her place. This is part of what’s called Emotional Dysregulation and something that marked most of my life. Everything I felt, I did with such intensity that I would often feel sick to my stomach, and the feeling would usually not subside. This led to what is known as Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, or RSD.
