This Is Us

People Said I Was ‘Special.’ Really, I Just Had ADHD.

The diagnosis that came decades later than it should have

Eight years old. I begged my parents to let me go to cheer camp because the other girls were doing it.

I read a lot as a kid. I didn’t speak out of turn. People liked me.

Sure, I never knew where my school worksheets were. I was rarely able to turn in my homework on time. And, yes, my elementary school desk was always a disaster. I used to flatten myself across it, so people couldn’t see inside. Paper, crayons, pencils, and books spilled out onto the floor. It was embarrassing.

I lost things I couldn’t remember picking up in the first place. I couldn’t keep track of time; yesterday’s moments fusing to tomorrow’s expectations. I was bright. I drew advanced connections in papers and class discussions. Teachers used my strengths to excuse my lateness, my inability to process verbal math instructions, my lack of everyday sense. It was all right that I couldn’t always move from one step to the next. They helped me. They could tell I was special.

In the sixth grade, there was an end-of-the-year pool party for all the kids who’d gotten good grades. I was behind in school again, but all my friends were going to the party. I couldn’t bear being left out, for them to know I wasn’t like them. The week before the party, I frantically searched for…