The Hidden Disability: Unmasking My ADHD

I told myself I’d write and post about my ADHD experience on Monday. It’s already Wednesday. Am I going to not follow through on yet another task? Why can’t I ever follow a plan or schedule that I set for myself anymore? Okay… I’ll at least start it tonight. But I need to clean up my room and fold my laundry. I washed those clothes before vacation – wait, that means it’s been over 2 weeks since I washed those clothes and they’ve just been sitting in hampers all this time! I HAVE to fold and put away that laundry tonight – but that means I won’t have time to write my blog post. Okay… I’ll write the one about ADHD tomorrow and then I can write the one about my fitness journey on Friday.

… and here I am posting the one about ADHD late Saturday night.

This is just a snapshot of my reality with ADHD. People who knew me when I was younger are probably thinking:

“How can you have ADHD? You were so quiet and barely talked.”

“You were never hyper – you never got in trouble for acting out.”

“You always earned good grades – surely your executive functioning is fine.”

And these are thoughts I had myself before I was diagnosed with ADHD last December after two screeners and the TOVA test. But now, I realize those characteristics of me as a child/student were just coping strategies that masked my ADHD.

REJECTION SENSITIVITY DISORDER (RSD)

Since learning about Rejection Sensitivity Disorder (RSD), a symptom of ADHD, I now understand how all of the above characteristics were actually signs that I had ADHD.

For me, RSD makes me instantly think that someone doesn’t like me if they say anything I perceive as negative. I begin to think: They think I’m stupid. They don’t like me.

Someone says they don’t like a movie I love. Well they must think I’m stupid for liking that movie. From now on, I’m not going to share which movies I like because I don’t want people to think I’m stupid.

Someone gives constructive feedback on one of my teaching practices. I’m a bad teacher. Am I really cut out for this? Am I the worst teacher in the school?

Because of where my thoughts go when I perceive rejection:

I never talked when I was younger because I didn’t want to say something that other people might make fun of or think is stupid.

I always tried to follow rules because if I got in trouble, that would mean teachers would think I was a bad kid.

I always tried my best to get good grades because if I got a bad grade that meant people would think I wasn’t smart and would like me even less. I had to get good grades because I wasn’t going to impress people with my athletic skills. Having a physical disability only compounded my RSD. I already thought I wasn’t going to fit in because I walked differently, so I didn’t want to add any other reason for people not to like me.

RSD had a negative impact on my life growing up. What I thought for most of my life was social anxiety was actually a major sign of ADHD. I now think about all that I missed out on because I was too scared to take the risk of being rejected.

Without RSD…

I could’ve made more friends.

I could’ve done drivers’ ed and gotten my license much earlier.

I could’ve had a job in high school.

I could’ve dated in high school.

Since starting medication for ADHD, I’m better able to realize when I’m being irrational about a situation. My therapist has also helped me come up with strategies to separate my thoughts from reality when my RSD does pop up.

As an adult, it’s not RSD that is the #1 problem – it’s now executive functioning.

TASK PARALYSIS

Before I started medication, I experienced task paralysis nearly every night.

I need to go wash my dishes. But I also need to grade these papers. Oh wait, I also said I was going to create slides for that activity tomorrow. Okay, I’ll start with the dishes so I need to get off this couch. But if I do my dishes, then I’ll be up even later. Maybe I’ll just create the slides tonight and I’ll grade papers tomorrow. But I don’t know yet exactly how I want the activity to go. Here’s what I’ll do – I’ll do a puzzle on my tablet to focus my mind and I can think of how the activity should go and what should be on the slides….

Prior to December 2025, this is what my thoughts would sound like each night. I would be so overwhelmed with all that I needed to do that I wouldn’t be able to get off the couch to do any of the tasks that I needed to do. I would sit frozen for hours until I was too tired to get anything done. Other times, I would sit frozen until 10 or 11pm at which time I would start doing work and would stay up until 1am or later to get work done.

I will never forget the day I started taking 300mg of Wellbutrin and the moment I realized my brain was finally quiet. Until that day, I didn’t realize how much mental energy I was spending just thinking because I was thinking about 3+ things at once, had a song stuck in my head, and talked to myself in my head.

After starting the 300mg of Wellbutrin, most of the time I have started doing my dishes nearly right away. I have started responding to emails as soon as I have time instead of letting them just sit in my inbox and haunt my thoughts for days. I am better about keeping up with grading, and I don’t get as overwhelmed by the stacks of papers I have to grade sometimes or the 45+ essays that I have to give feedback on.

FOCUS

While my task initiation has improved since starting meds, I now realize how bad my focus is at times.

“Miss, can you print this out for me?” “Oh, yes – I’ll do it in just a second.” “Miss, you said you were going to help me with this question.” “Oh yeah. Which question was it again?” *student notices the tab for my March Madness bracket on my computer* “Oooo Miss, who do you have winning?” “I chose…” *I then proceed to project my bracket onto the board and explain some of my choices for the next few minutes.* “Okay, we need to refocus on the work – sorry y’all, I’m the one that got distracted and caused you to get off task, but now we need to get back to work.” *5 minutes later the bell rings* Oh shoot, I forgot to print off that paper for M!

This happened in my 7th period class back in March of this year. At this moment, I realized that my meds were only working until about 1pm. After that time, I struggled to focus. I had a difficult time helping students with their work in the last 2 periods of the day. I would consistently forget what I was saying in the middle of direct instruction. And I could never remember who had already asked to go to the bathroom.

MEDS

Following this experience in my 7th period class, I knew I needed to do something to be able to focus throughout the entire school day, so I scheduled an appointment with my psychiatrist. He increased my Wellbutrin dose to 450mg. After a month on that dosage, I noticed that I would now lose my ability to focus at around 5pm. I could now make it through the entire school day, but I couldn’t focus in the evening when I usually prepped lessons or graded papers.

Shortly after, in an IEP meeting for one of my students, I learned about “booster doses” for ADHD. Wait! I need that!

I went back to my psychiatrist – knowing that I likely couldn’t do a booster dose with Wellbutrin. This time, he was willing to start me on a med specifically for ADHD (Wellbutrin is used off-label for ADHD). We started with Straterra. I took Straterra in the morning when I woke up and Wellbutrin in the afternoon. For the first couple weeks, I thought the Straterra was working well with only mild side effects – lack of appetite and insomnia – which seemed to be improving as time wore on. But in the third week, I noticed I didn’t feel like myself anymore. I didn’t have any emotions about anything. I never felt sad, angry, happy, nervous, or excited. I basically had an “it’s whatever” attitude about everything.

So back to the psychiatrist I went. This time he put me on a newer med, Qelbree. If this one didn’t work, we’d try a stimulant. I am still on Qelbree today. I can focus throughout the day, and the only major side effect I’ve noticed is that it has made me feel more emotional – mostly in a positive way.

TIME BLINDNESS

Something I still struggle with is time blindness. When I was younger I was never late to things because of my RSD. Now, I am late to things often. Just ask my best friend who does my hair – no matter how hard I try, I’m always at least 5 minutes late to my appointment. What I think will only take an hour actually takes 3 hours. Because of this, I often overestimate how much work I can get done after school or during 1 planning period. On the other hand, what feels like 20 minutes is actually 5 minutes. I used to dread brushing my teeth at night because between brushing, flossing, and mouth wash, it felt like I was in the bathroom for half an hour. One night, I finally timed how long it took me to do my nightly bathroom routine. It was 8 minutes total.

WAITING MODE

Lately, I’ve been most thankful that I no longer experience waiting mode.

Before meds, if I had a doctor’s appointment at 3pm, I couldn’t do anything else until after the appointment. When I used to close on Sunday nights at DSW, I knew that I wasn’t going to get any lesson planning or grading done before my shift. This meant I either had to be prepared for Monday before Sunday, or I would have to stay up late to get work done. In high school, when I had soccer practice in the summer at 4pm, I had anxiety about going to see a movie or even just laying out in the backyard during the day. So I simply watched TV and slept all day waiting for soccer practice. I always thought I was lazy because other girls would go to summer school for 6 hours or go to work before afternoon practice. I admired their energy and I wished I had that type of energy. Turns out, it wasn’t an issue of having energy or not – it was an issue of being in waiting mode.

Now, I’m able to focus on other tasks or go do other activities before an afternoon doctor’s appointment or before a big evening event. In May, I even went to a workout class in the morning before an afternoon flight – even when I still had to pack and go to the pharmacy before driving to the airport. For most of my life, I have been the person who needs to be at the airport at least 2 hours ahead of time no matter what. This time, I got to the airport less than 1 hour before my flight boarded.

Getting an ADHD diagnosis and starting the right medications have made life so much easier and have allowed me to experience more joy. At times I get angry about what I missed as a child and teenager because of my undiagnosed and untreated ADHD. I hope that doctors, teachers, and parents continue to become more aware about the way ADHD presents in girls, so every girl can experience her full potential as a child and teenager.

The Empty Summer

Flips page. “[K] has been resisting/refusing to verbalize when attempting to get object nearby.” Flips page. “She is usually very adamant about not participating in an activity when she doesn’t want to.” Yes, two-and-a-half-year-old me! You are a strong, independent woman. Flips page. “Participation with therapist is sometimes difficult.” What can I say? I’m stubborn. “Goal: [K] will cooperate with adult requests 80% of the time.” Okay, that is a lot to ask of three-year-old me when many adults don’t cooperate with adult requests 70% of the time. Flips page. “She tended to be a little ‘stubborn’ with the staff today by raising voice and saying ‘no play’ when asked to say ‘Please’.” Laughs. Like I said, I’m stubborn, and I know what I want.

Five years ago, I could not imagine having these reactions to the pages and pages of detailed therapy reports. Five years ago, when I first found this ominous folder of report after report about every aspect of my development up until age five, my reactions were quite different. Five years ago when I went on my search to find just one document that said when I was officially diagnosed with mild left hemiparesis and instead found two file folders full of therapy reports, medical invoices, and evaluation reports, I could not imagine that one day I would laugh off these comments and admit that these tendencies were just an immature expression of my personality now.

Opens folder.

“Parent Concerns: Not walking independently. Says just a few words.” Eyes glaze over page. “Poor coordination of eyes. Concern about depth perception.” Heart starts pounding. “Recommendations: Speech Therapy. Physical Therapy. Occupational Therapy. Ophthalmologist. Developmental Teacher.” Face becomes flush. Flips page. “Demonstrating some tactically defensive characteristics.” Flips page. “Inconsistent sound play of limited phonemes.” Flips page. “She has trouble following objects in pursuit type patterns as her eyes don’t move quite fast enough.” Flips page. “[K[ is demonstrating a 7 month delay in her fine motor skills.” Muscles tense up. Flips page. “She demonstrates a reciprocal gait pattern, but proper heel strike absent… Balance appears to be compensated as patient must adjust for decrease in dorsiflexion while in swing phase and heel strike.” Googles ‘dorsiflexion.’

When I first went through that folder five years ago, I was physically frozen while thoughts gushed in my head: How could so many things be wrong with me? Why did they have to track every little sound, movement, and gesture I made? Do I still not articulate my words correctly? Can I not see in 3-D at all?

As the days passed after I read through every single therapy report, invoice, and evaluation report, I progressively submitted to those racing thoughts. At the age of 19 I began to internalize what the therapists had reported about my development from the time I was one and a half to when I was five. Remember when I said that I hated wearing the eye patch over my right eye in 7^th grade? Welp, I dug that eye patch back out and started wearing it to fix my depth perception. I began agonizing over the fact that my left eye appeared to wander outward.

Eventually these thoughts made me feel worthless and helpless. I stopped having the desire to make plans with my friends. I stopped wanting to interact with people, including my own family members. I have always loved playing games with my mom, but that summer I stopped finding the joy in playing games. I became more agitated with people. One day I snapped at my mom in DSW for the littlest reason and realized afterwards that it was not like me to get irritated with someone – especially my mom – for barely any reason. For the first couple weeks I just thought once I got back to DC, I would be back to my normal self. Since I wasn’t able to get a job that summer, I thought I just needed to get back to being busy again and I would forget all of these thoughts. Yet after almost a month, I realized that I didn’t even have a desire for going back to DC or AU anymore. At this point I started feeling a general sense of emptiness. I no longer cared if I slept at night, and I stopped having a desire to eat. Even just the process of eating sounded overwhelming.

I tried to cope with these feelings. I turned to books and read the entire Narnia Series and five of the Harry Potter books to try to escape my own thoughts. I fixated on The Fosters and watched the series three times that summer. I even bought a book called Everything Happens for a Reason to figure out why I was born with a disability. I tried to spend as much time in the sun as possible, but that didn’t help. One late afternoon I started crying for no reason as I lied on a beach chair in the sun and read my book.

During this month of feeling like my personality was gradually vacating my body, I could tell my mom knew something was wrong. She would ask me if I was feeling okay, and I would try to fake a smile and say yeah. One time when she asked me, I told her I was worried about the amount of loans that she and my dad were taking out to pay for my school, and I was considering if transferring to the University of Maryland would save money in the long run. I didn’t want to admit that something was wrong. However, after having thoughts about death a couple times, I knew I needed help whether I wanted it or not. One night I forced myself to find the courage to tell my mom that I was depressed. I was nervous the entire day. I even planned it out. I asked her to play a game with me after dinner. She said yes. After each round of the game, I kept trying to get out the words, but I couldn’t do it. Finally, after we were done playing and as we cleaned up, I got out the words: “I think I have depression.” She said she thought so too and seemed relieved that I had finally come to her about it. We then sat on the couch as I recounted how I had been feeling. She asked me if I knew why I was feeling depressed. I admitted that it was because of my disability. She responded by asking why I would be so upset by it now. I couldn’t admit that I had found my development folder. At that moment I already regretted admitting that my depression had something to do with my disability, so I simply said “I don’t know.”

The next day my mom scheduled an appointment for me to see the doctor. The day of the doctor’s appointment, I lied in bed that morning just wishing it would all end, but I reminded myself that in a few hours I would be getting the help I needed. I made a list of my symptoms in case I forgot something when I was at the doctor’s office. I had my mom come back with me to the examination room to help me feel more comfortable. The doctor asked me what my symptoms were. After I listed my symptoms, she said it sounded like I had clinical depression. Then she asked the question: “What do you think triggered it?” Unlike the conversation with my mom, I simply answered: “I don’t know.” But my mom said, “Tell her what you told me,” and I admitted that it “might be my disability.” Then the doctor asked us some questions about my disability and my mom explained that I’ve had it since I was born. They questioned why it was affecting me emotionally now. Again, I responded: “I don’t know.” The doctor wrote me a prescription for an antidepressant, and suggested I see a therapist once I was back at school. She said I would start feeling better by the end of the week.

The antidepressants at least seemed to make me feel less numb, and by this point I was only a few weeks away from going back to AU. I had something to try to look forward to, and I tried to focus on being back with my college friends.

As I write this post, I’m a couple days away from seeing the doctor about recurring pain that I’ve been having in my left leg for the past 7 months. Since January, I’ve been anxious to get answers about what could be causing the pain. I originally planned on seeing my previous doctor who has been great with checking on issues related to my spastic hemiparesis in South Bend over spring break, but since that was towards the start of the spread of coronavirus in Indiana, I was scared to make an appointment. Now I’m going to my new doctor in Maryland, and I’m nervous. While I want answers, I’m scared of what those answers will be.

During that summer nearly five years ago, when I thought I needed to and could fix my depth perception, I told my optometrist that I was worried about my left eye turning outward and I was worried that it was affecting my depth perception. He told me that while it was turning out a little bit, any surgery would simply be cosmetic and may worsen my vision. That was not the answer I was hoping to hear. I then found out that while he was examining my mom in another room, he told her that my eye was not turning out. I was shook. He lied to me. Me. Who had always hated going to the eye doctor and refused to admit that anything was wrong with my eyesight. Me. Who after 19 years had finally admitted that something was wrong with my eyes and was advocating for myself. He didn’t take my concerns seriously.

So today that leaves me scared. Will the doctor take my concerns seriously? Will she believe me? Then I think of how reading those therapy reports made me feel five years ago and the downward spiral that caused. What if it is something major? What if she refers me to physical therapy? What if I must have surgery? How will I react to that in the short term? In the long term?

“The thing about having a mental breakdown is that no matter how obvious it is that you’re having one, it is somehow not obvious to you. I’m fine, you think. So what if I watched TV for twenty-four straight hours yesterday. I’m not falling apart. I’m just lazy. Why it’s better to think yourself lazy than think yourself in distress, I’m not sure. But it was better. More than better: it was vital.”
― Tara Westover, Educated