I Always Knew I Was Different

It was in my twenties that I first began to notice that I was different. Before that I just thought I was lazy. But by my mid-twenties I was beginning to show some strengths. I was highly creative and could produce some amazing things “when I set my mind to it.” I began to describe it to close friends as “a blessing and a curse.” That’s what it was. Some days it was responsible for me achieving big goals and others it was why I couldn’t clean the house. I still thought I was a flake. I hid my new interests from everyone because I couldn’t stand to hear people I loved tell me that I was just going to quit whatever it was because I “couldn’t stick with anything.”

By my thirties I began seeing my interests cycle. Instead of being random deep dives into a subject or hobby where I’d feel the compulsive need to purchase everything that went with it, I was cycling through my highest interest subjects of my twenties, picking up where I left off and dusting off old purchases. After a while of seeing which things I was going to “stick with” I could purge my house of unwanted miscellaneous items I didn’t need anymore. I was able to finally get rid of my massive craft supply hoard, and as I learned more about myself I became a minimalist at heart.

I’ve always tried to be more efficient, more productive with my time. I only own two kinds of socks so I don’t spend precious time trying to match them in the dark. I wear solid colored t-shirts every day because I don’t want the stress of trying to match an outfit or having people make judgements about me based on the words I was displaying. Those daily decisions take up precious mental resources I now save for more important tasks. All because I learned myself well.

In my forties now, I learned the name for my issue was ADHD. I honestly didn’t think ADHD existed until I realized what it was and how perfectly it described me. I never suspected it before because focusing is my superpower. (It says so right on my Clifton Strengths assessment.) But ADHD is trouble controlling that focus. It’s like you don’t get to choose what you focus on. You simply have to ride the waves and hope your brain will latch onto something that will keep your family fed, the house clean, or make you money. When it chooses something else you just hang on tight and hope it ends quickly.

I had no idea how much I masked before. When I told my teen daughter I thought I had ADHD the first thing she said was, “Well, yeah, Mom.” Like, of course. Didn’t you know that already? And now she points out all the little things that I do that I didn’t even realize I do. Like how I talk too loud when I get excited. Or how I jump from one subject to the next and then back without missing a beat. She loves my quirky self and it’s been great to just be myself around her. Other people can find me obnoxious and so I shy away from IRL (in real life) friends. Instead, most of my interactions are online where I can check and re-check what I say before I send it. Otherwise I’m stuck masking because I don’t trust myself to appear “normal” enough and I end up hating myself because I feel so fake.

As a writer I’m learning ways to keep my mind interested in creating stories. People with ADHD suffer from a lack of dopamine, a chemical in the brain that plays a huge role in motivation.

When we’re motivated you can’t stop us. But when we’re not motivated it’s like a sloth trying to run a marathon.

Junk food gives a great dopamine hit. I wrote several books that way. I was like a machine. Junk food went in and words came out. I’m really amazed I didn’t get a blood clot during that time in my life. I was sitting at the computer for 16-18 hours each day, just eating chips and cookies and writing like there was no tomorrow. It was really hard to write without junk food but my health depended on it. So much so that one of the characters in my book was on a super healthy diet and I poked fun at her all the time for what she ate. (That was my diet.)

I wrote Forbidden Amish Love in about eighteen days. It was 89,000 words. For those of you non-writers out there, that’s 350 pages. I worked on it Monday through Saturday and only skipped Sundays, but I thought of it every waking second during that time. I lived and breathed that story. I dreamed about it at night. The characters were so real to me I felt like I could have touched them. It’s the only book I have that I did 100% on my own. I wrote it, edited it, formatted it, proofread it, and covered it all by myself. It’s also the book that made the most money.

Writing like that burned me out quickly. It was an all consuming task. I don’t think other writers experience this quite like one with ADHD. Part of the reason I didn’t go back to writing after my major burnout was because my daughter said I wasn’t there. I was in the house but I wasn’t “there.” I did the impossible, though. I supported my family for over two years while my husband couldn’t work. All with my writing. Making money with writing isn’t an easy task and replacing a full-time income as a new writer so quickly is nearly impossible, but I did it. With my ADHD brain that latched onto an impossible goal and refused to let go.

I have to remind myself how amazing I am. Especially on the days when it’s really hard to just get the dishes done. I juggle health issues and not enough brain chemicals, stuff that I don’t fully understand. But I know God made me this way. I don’t think it was a mistake or a mess up. And if someone offered me a pill that would take away my curse I wouldn’t take it because it would also take away my biggest blessing.

So, I’m left to try to balance my life in an ADHD kind of way, which is not at all normal. I operate solely by lists most days, so I don’t forget anything super important. But then the lists get boring and I forget to use them. After a few missed commitments I find a way to make lists novel again. One week I wrote my to-do list in all pictures, no words. That was a fun week.

I get emotional and almost depressed when I think about the fact that I won’t live long enough to pursue every interest I have, but I also want to be good at what I do and I long to simplify my life. I want to write. I want to write for God. I want to write things that make Christians think. And so my web novel is taking shape. It’s scary. I’ve never written anything like it before. I know I have to work hard to keep my interest in the project from failing. I feel alone and yet I have a whole email list of people supporting me. But most of all I have a God who’s behind me, who made me, and who cannot fail.