“We are not our trauma. We are not our brain chemistry. That’s part of who we are, but we’re so much more than that.”
Sam J. Miller
“Sometimes a flaw can make something even more beautiful. Like with Cindy Crawford and how short she is.”
Tahani, The Good Place
I came across the strangest thing in my Instagram feed the other day: a post by an ADHD coach professing that it’s “most obviously not a disorder” and just a different way of thinking that isn’t supported in the modern world.
This struck me for a few reasons.
Most obviously it minimizes the challenges that accompany ADHD. Anyone who knows me or read my earliest blog entries knows my symptoms often have a physical manifestation. Prior to treatment, mystery bruises riddled my body because the dangerous combination of impulsivity, inattention, and poor spatial awareness – all linked to executive dysfunction – made me a bit of what people called “a walking disaster”. Routinely losing or forgetting things to such an extent it interfered with daily life never felt particularly orderly, either.
I don’t know that I’d be any better off in the paleolithic era, contrary to some doofy hypothesis – not even a theory, let alone the scientific fact someone tried to tell me it was…yeah, no, that’s not how the scientific method works. This “hypothesis” (even that feels generous) focusing on hyperactivity in males has been entertained in a handful of dubious studies.
While society can do more to accommodate our neurological differences, I’m not sure impulsivity and inattentiveness lend themselves well to a nomadic lifestyle. I mean, I once chased a butterfly over the side of a mercifully short ravine (I know, I know – squirrel!). Sometimes dumb luck and well-placed shrubbery is all that stood between me and certain death. Also, cave painting and storytelling were even less viable as careers during the paleolithic era than they are now. Everything else was too boring and/or ooshy for someone with my delicate sensibilities. They didn’t even have sweets or junk food yet. Fermented fruit, maybe. Settling down allowed people to pursue interests and passions (like baking!) instead of focusing on survival. And wandering is much more enjoyable when it’s by choice rather than necessity.
Anyway, I encountered that Instagram post after a Twitter discussion between people who not only recognize our disorder as a disorder but question how many of our perceived strengths we truly owe to ADHD. I’ve talked before about how hard it is to separate the disorder from our identities, but the more time goes by, the easier it becomes. Contrary to what books and Hollywood tell us, clumsiness is not a personality trait. And my creativity and nonlinear thinking remain intact, even (especially) with treatment.
I also know people with ADHD who do not consider themselves gifted artists and athletes or great minds, and it makes them feel that much worse when the condition is glorified. They probably have other strengths that get overlooked because they don’t fit romanticized notions, but why must we credit our gifts to ADHD to feel better about an arbitrary roll of the genetic dice?
We do not have to pretend we’re magical wondrous beings. That’s just another mask. I wonder if it relates to perfectionism. Like, we’re never good enough unless we’re not just perceived as equal to others, but better.
Uhm, yikes?!
Some people resist seeking help because they’re afraid of losing their identity, like I used to be. If anything, I’m more openly “weird” now because I no longer feel the need to hide or compensate for all the other weirdness I had no control over. Sometimes when I see something relatable like people who struggled with friendship and hid in the library during school lunch or failed to live up to expectations as adults, I’m torn between feeling comforted and disappointed – like I’m less of an oddball, which I’d come to accept, and more of a cliché – but I have to remind myself that I am not my diagnosis, and that the actions and expectations of others do not define me.
Maybe it’s the stigma associated with the word ‘disorder’ that makes some choose to reject it – but we don’t think any less of people with cardiovascular or respiratory disorders, do we?
Imagine saying someone with hemophilia just bleeds differently or someone with asthma just breathes differently. Besides, thinking is more general, and already varies a lot from one person to the next. In the case of ADHD, it’s executive function – a specific set of processes – that’s impaired. Contrary to popular misconceptions, there’s no link between ADHD and intellectual ability.
If someone wants to deny having certain impairments, is it because they look down on people with other impairments?
If so, their attitude is the real problem. It’s okay to be imperfect, especially in ways we have no control over. It’s also okay to do what we can to address imperfections, especially impairments that harm our quality of life. Accepting who we are and seeking help are not mutually exclusive.
