ADHD* Better Have My Money
*the experience of having undiagnosed ADHD for several decades
I write a lot of positive stuff on here, and this isn’t necessarily negative, but I said something to my wife recently and it felt more right than most things have ever felt, even if I’ve never heard it said before.
I have lately been pondering what project I should start — because, of course, I always need one — and as much as I would like continuing to write language education books forever (and I’ll definitely write at least one more), I don’t know how much more I have to say about a field I’m only tangentially a part of. I still teach classes on the subject, and my colleagues in the space enjoy collaborating with me, but I know in my heart that I am more interested in writing about neurodivergence and other related things going forward.
Now, I don’t explicitly have a degree or a credential in anything disability related. But I did include my own diagnosis journey in my dissertation, which you can read here if you care about that sort of thing. My job also has nothing to do with my condition, and as such it would purely be a side endeavor if I were to explore more about ADHD and related concepts. But I have to say it: ADHD owes me money. Like, a lot of money. And I intend to get that money back.
I don’t really mean ADHD in the chemical sense — I do not blame my brain for this. I do, however, blame a system that dis/ables us for the way we think, and my peers and institutions and employers that shamed me for patterns I was unable to avoid. I’m in a good place now, emotionally and romatically and professionally, but for a long time it was touch-and-go. I had gotten to the point, before I met my wife, that I had convinced myself I’d always be somewhat on the precipice because to aspire to more would have been too heartbreaking.
And now, on the other side of all the marathons and the articles and the degree and the book and a much better career trajectory, I can see what I was always capable of, and I look back on the opportunities I missed out on because I was so crippled by social rejection, the paths I didn’t pursue because I doubted myself after my peers’ assessment of me… I’m not saying I’d be in a better position given how well my life turned out, but this experience has given me the distinct impression that I’m owed something, and since I can’t get my time back, I want the next best thing.
Accordingly, though I can’t quite fathom a full career related to ADHD or neurodivergence — because what would that even be? — I do intend to speak, write, and agitate for this community I didn’t even realize I was a part of, and I intend to make a name for myself, because the world owes me that. In fact, the world owes all of us neurodivergent people what it’s denied us for being “weird” or “annoying” or whatever word they’ve applied to us when we couldn’t quite figure out how to be like everyone else or just wanted to hide who we truly were from a world hellbent on hostility. I want to be clear that my expertise and experience in anti-racism means I’m not letting white neurodivergent folks off the hook, but nonetheless, I need to push this or else all those years of struggling through the mental mud were just a waste.
I don’t know where this urge will take me. Maybe nowhere useful and just more podcast episodes or Medium essays like this one. But I am certain I will get back what’s been taken from me. And hopefully I can get back some of what’s been taken from all of us, too.
