‘I can’t believe he’s late again,” my friend said, texting to complain about a colleague. “You’ve got ADHD, too, and you seem fine!” I thought smugly: “Ah yes,” as I prepared to pull another all-nighter to hit a deadline, “that could never be me.”
I was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) at 14, which, at its worst, feels like having a million YouTube tabs simultaneously playing in my brain. Extreme procrastination and restlessness are some of my most noticeable traits. If you meet me, I’m most probably discreetly tapping my big toe to expel the nervous energy that rips through me on a daily basis. And while I’m hardly ever late these days, that’s only because I’ve jerry-rigged an elaborate system of calendar alarms to alert me to any upcoming event.
