Show me something I don't yet see

Wait. Just joking.

I took an ADHD assessment and the results page glared at me. “Talk to your doctor about a potential ADHD diagnosis.” It was August 3. I opened up the notes app on my phone and tapped out a poem:

my brain might be
screwed up in a way
i never knew

what if my life
wasn’t my fault?

Then I fell asleep. Because my heart couldn’t handle another curveball in 2022.

I lived outside my body for the next three weeks. I continued being wife, mom, and daughter while on vacation in South Carolina and Ohio. We enjoyed great food, family outings, and I captured all the memories for future scrapbooks while Curiosity hovered on my shoulder, watching my brain.

I noticed what I never thought to question.

There was no drifting easily through the day. Curiosity set up a nice cozy camp and watched every interaction, pattern, and behavior. Curiosity rubbed her eyes to make sure she was seeing clearly. We had weird conversations.

Wow, Jenny. How have you made it 40 years?
Leave me alone. I did the best I could.
Yes, you did. Good job. But damn. You’re all over the place.
Again, have you seen the anxiety? I’m doing the best I can.
Yes, sweet girl. But I don’t think it had to be this hard.

Cue the tears. (It’s been an emotional season).

Photo by Taylor Deas-Melesh on Unsplash

The number one emoji in my most recent text list is the exploding brain. As I confided in a few friends what I was learning, it’s the only way I could capture how it felt.

Talk about pulling threads. I pulled one open thread and it just kept unraveling. All I could do was write down what Curiosity noticed.

Maybe this is why I struggle with committing to creative projects. I shame myself for how quickly I lose interest and want to move on. Could this be my brain and not a character flaw?

Maybe this is why I’m impulsive and intensely dislike research and practice. Let’s just do the thing. Could this be my brain and not that I’m lazy and undisciplined?

Maybe this is why I hyper focus on a few things when others roll their eyes at how obsessed I get. Could this be my brain and not that I can’t chill out?

Maybe this is why people say I have great potential (which makes me work even harder) but then I crash because I can’t follow through and make things happen. Could this be my brain pinging all over the place, unable to focus on what’s important?

Maybe that’s why I’m fidgety and I can’t sit still. I thought it was just anxiety. Could this be my brain trying to get more dopamine?

Maybe this is why my emotions feel so strong. Could this be my brain’s working memory impairment that floods my brain with such intensity?

Maybe this is why I can’t function without my to do list and my car is a mess and I lose things more than I’d like to admit. Could this be my brain struggling with executive functioning?

Maybe this is why I talk so much and feel embarrassed when I go overboard. Could this be my brain trying to articulate all the connections I see everyday while losing track of time while I’m talking?

Maybe this is why I look at the clock all day long because I’m always afraid I’m going to miss my next commitment. Could this be time blindness?

Maybe this is why I struggle to focus when someone is talking to me and I want to interrupt all the time. Could this be my brain struggling to focus?

Maybe this is why I have a fairly low opinion of myself most of the time. I’ve blamed and shamed myself for decades, trying to make sure no one saw how hard I struggled inside. Could this be my brain working overtime to compensate and keep up?

Curiosity noticed it all. A million things I never saw because my brilliant brain hacked every system in front of me, without me ever knowing.

Which is weird. Honestly, I always thought I was a pretty self-aware person. It’s jarring to realize again how complex our bodies are, how often they care for us without our effort or awareness. I cycled between annoyed and deeply grateful. I felt anger that no one noticed this earlier. I felt sadness for how long I struggled when I didn’t have to. I felt disappointment for how undiagnosed ADHD affected my relationships. I felt confused at how to move forward.

But I knew one thing. I could trust the rhythm. The fear — the dying — the rising.

I held a huge knotted mess of fear in my hands. A million new noticings pinging around an already amped up brain. A body still grieving and adjusting to a wild year. And if I’m super honest, a heart that’s tired of healing journeys. I believe in everything I write and share, and also…

2022 has been a lot. Do I really have the energy to show up again?
Can I just put this one on simmer in the back row?

Anyone who knows me fairly well can answer that question. I will always show up to the mess in front of me. It might be slow and weird and I’ll resist a bit, but that rhythm is too strong. It’s too compelling. It’s too beautiful to stay stuck in the fear for long. I know what’s on the other side.

Photo by Vika Strawberrika on Unsplash

What about you, my dear reader?

Are there coping mechanisms your brilliant self has created to get through life — but you also sense they’re a little fishy?

Maybe a habit saved you before but now you’ve outgrown it.

Maybe a way of thinking about something fit your old self, but your new self demands a new paradigm.

Maybe there’s a harmful pattern in a relationship that you want to interrupt but it feels too strong.

Yeah. I’m with you.

There’s an incredibly dangerous prayer or intention I’ve set before and it’s always brought something up to the surface. Today, I lend this intention to you:

Show me something I don’t yet see.

I invite you to look in the mirror and say that.
I invite you to write it down.
I invite your brave, courageous, shaky heart to whisper it to the universe.

See what happens. *Rubs hands together with excitement and curiosity.*

Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash

I’m a ritual person. It’s how I process life. One time, I carved out space to ritualize letting go of a coping mechanism. A way of being that served me for a long time, until it didn’t. It felt counterintuitive but I grieved letting go of something that hadn’t been good for me. I grieved the familiarity and comfort of the pattern. I knew it wasn’t good for me, but at least I understood it.

Consider a ritual of letting go and gratitude for a way of being that wants to rest. To be done. Maybe the coping mechanism is tired too. Ready to let go.

Let’s honestly grieve the letting go so there’s room for new energy to move. To birth something more real, true, and generous.

Because here’s the uncomfortable truth: Your new life will cost you your old one.

We take all our beautiful selves and integrate them as we move forward. But we cannot actively carry every coping mechanism with us. They simply don’t get to travel to the next place. They won’t fit. (And sometimes, I think our pain is from trying to fit old ways of being into new versions of ourselves).

While we’re grieving that reality, let’s also thank our coping mechanisms. They got us through difficult things. They helped us adapt and survive.

And now it’s time to let go.

Next time I’ll tell you what happened when the big ADHD question arose: To medicate or not to medicate? This thread has a knot I’ve avoided for decades. My desire to let go is about to be tested.

---

P.S. Here are some of my favorite resources for ADHD. There are brilliant people creating community and resources for anyone ready to explore.

Secrets of Your ADHD Brain
Inside the Silent ADHD Epidemic Among Women
I Was Masking So Long, I Lost Myself
ADHD for Smart Ass Women community
Women & ADHD podcast
Your Brain’s Not Broken by Dr. Tamara Rosier

Instagram ADHD voices I appreciate:
@adhdjesse
@adhd.nutritionist
@mindfully_adhd
@myladyadhd
@perry.mandanis.md