My ADD diagnosis is like a deep secret eating away at me.
by Jane D.
I almost said it. The words sat on the tip of my tongue about to tumble out. I sat across the pseudo boyfriend at the diner this morning before work, and tried to tell him about the attention deficit disorder and the medication I’m taking.
ADD is like this dark and deep secret that I keep, and I want to purge badly. Lately it has been seriously eating away at me like a cancer—this struggle and these questions that come with being different and living with what I continue to believe is not a disorder.
I tried to reveal it in the way of frustration. Lately, things have been so hectic, I have such trouble, and difficulty prioritizing things and myself. I want to do it all, can you help, can someone help?
It came down to this: He wants to spend time doing nothing and feels like we're always going to places and not spending time alone. He wants to be a coach potato, he doesn't seem to have this ingrained color and spark that I have. It's in a lukewarm handshake, a weak smile.
He doesn't have this fire and desire—this is what I observe at least. I said I really needed someone who was good at organizing and he seemed to hold back. I was angry about this; if he wasn't going to edit me, who was?
He was wishy-washier than me, two clueless people equals chaos. He listened and said don't be so hard on yourself; there's room for creative people in this world. He once struggled with the same dilemma too, he said, but he found a job that lets him be creative.
He doesn't seem to think there's anything wrong with tardiness, flakiness, hemming and hawing. He's found his peace in meditation and going ummmmm. I retreated and sighed, he's not getting this. He's not asking questions, or he just doesn’t care.
But increasingly I want to blame the ADD, the meds, the way my brain is wired. What are these men going to do: turn their shoulder, not call back? If so they are not a friend, my sister says. I want to come out and just say it, "Please come with me to an ADD meeting." What is the shame here, why do I need to apologize for being me?