A late diagnosis

I’ve spent my life being called forgetful, clumsy, careless, random (xD), distracting…

I’ve spent my life being told to slow down, to sit down, to stop fidgeting, to finish what I’ve started…

Each time someone said any of these to me I felt a pinch of sadness because none of it was intentional. Do you think I enjoy feeling like I’m going to burst if I don’t share this random anecdote or fact I’ve just discovered? That I enjoy not being able to fully tidy my room because the amount of shit means I spend all the time I have just deciding where to start?

Family, friends and teachers always got frustrated with me because they knew I had the potential to “not” be these things. And I guess I do. Catch me in the right moment and I’m not really any of these things. (Except maybe the fidgeting bit, I’ve recently messed with my fingernail so much it fell off.)

I’m just sort of getting off my chest the discovery I am in fact neurodivergent and not just broken. I have adhd. And probably because I’m a girl this wasn’t picked up on until my 20s, instead I was just seen as being attention seeking or an arsehole whenever those traits came out in childhood.

The worst part of being ad is the severe sensitivity to rejection – and it happens a fair bit due to my poor chaotic energy. Or at least I feel it does and that that’s why.

So, I’m not rejecting myself and my diagnosis! I am worthy of normal human relationships and interactions even if I do stop people in their tracks every now and then to let them know I’ve just discovered a new cute animal.