Behind the mask

When I got diagnosed with ADHD, a weight was lifted off of my shoulders. I finally had an answer for why my brain was a little different, why I found it easy to do certain things but that my laziness wasn’t laziness.

I always knew there was something different about me. I thrived with procrastination, found phone calls to be overwhelming, and loved having my room a certain way. I can be impulsive, but was always daydreaming in school and writing my own stories because life was better in my imagination.

ADHD in women often goes unnoticed because of our ability to be social, but often characterized as shy. We like things done our way, prone to being called difficult and hard-to-please. We tend to not ask for help and find ways to keep our brains stimulated. I often have TV on in the background while I do anything because dead silence drives me insane. I’m always doing something, even if I’m just on the couch. I can promise you, I have plenty of stimulating activities and books on my phone that I’m probably bouncing between while I’m watching a new series with my husband.

I was a gifted kid, but I always felt like I couldn’t truly be myself around others, especially other women. Now I realize I was masking as a child around my teachers and family, but back then no one understood why I could be bubbly and personable in social situations but why I came off mean and monotone when I got home. No one understood why catching me in the middle of a task that frustrated me caused me to sound upset, even after explaining I was not upset at anyone in particular but that the task was frustrating and causing stress.

Many times throughout my childhood and even my adult life, I wonder how my ADHD and neurodivergence went unnoticed. When I tell friends and family, people who have known me for a long time, I get mixed reviews. Some people tell me they don’t believe it. Others look at me and go, “oh that makes sense!” Perhaps it was the fact that I excelled well in school, even though I failed miserable during my first year at college. Perhaps it was the fact that I could get things done on time, even if I was scrambling until the hour before it was due. My brain works differently and I’m still learning how to work with it, not against it. Now that I live in my own house with my autistic husband, we’re designing a space that works for our advantage.

No matter how diligent I am in trying to create a routine, it doesn’t happen. I know I have a routine somewhere inside of me, but it manifests differently than a traditional routine. I’m constantly searching for a dopamine fix, something to get me excited because if it doesn’t, then what’s the point in doing it?

I find that when I’m out in public around my friends or family or even meeting people for the first time, I am putting on a performance. I’m telling everyone that I’m normal, perfectly functioning and definitely not drowning under minimal tasks. I have bills set on auto pay but I don’t have a budget because a lot of my dopamine hits come from buying random shit from Target or Amazon.

Masking, in general, is so damaging to those who have ADHD and those who are on the autism spectrum. Many of us are exhausted after putting on a show because we’re not allowed to be our true selves. We’re told stimming isn’t acceptable, but with my ADHD, I’ve managed to find a public stim that others don’t notice or care about (shaking my leg or fidgeting with my earrings). But other stims I’ve found to be helpful and soothing can’t be done in public without judgmental stares and snide comments.

Behind the mask is a girl who’s overwhelmed, undervalued, and misunderstood.