It was a sunny February morning last year when I was sat in my therapist office, and she stopped me to ask the question - “Have you been diagnosed with ADHD?”
I remember the whole exchange quite clearly. I laughed it off and said nah, I’m not fidgety or hyper. And it was her response to this that changed my whole life “no…the other type?”
Wait, what?!
So, we sat there and she ran me through what ADHD is and how it can show up differently in women and girls. She explained how it is commonly missed and diagnosed as other issues (depression; tick! anxiety; tick! hormones; TICK!) and how left unchecked, it can be incredibly damaging to peoples lives (ALL OF THE TICKS).
The reason it had even come up in discussion, was that we had been talking about the work situation I was in at the time. I was largely working on my own in a huge empty office, and when I did have company it was with one of the biggest misogynists I have ever come across (which is saying something, considering I had spent the most part of a decade working in construction). They had just announced a massive work event that included a harbour sail, open bar and dinner. My excitement over this was next level, until I found out that no - I wasn’t included in the invite because I was “in the regions”. Despite my dickhead manager (and sole workmate) getting an invite.
I remember the pain in that moment. The physical sensation that went through me when I realised I was the only one not invited. It was this that we were talking through in my session, my first ever introduction to the term RSD - Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria - that led to the question around ADHD.
This was when the pieces of my strange little life puzzle started finally falling into place. It had been a long journey even getting to this point. One that started back in 2018/2019 after I had turned 30 and still, for the life of me, could not get my shit together.
I was living in Melbourne at the time, and had spent my whole 20s literally mucking around. There was a lot of partying, drinking and travelling, and not a whole lot of responsibility. As I got older, I started tiring of the partying and the constant hangovers. I was tired of the superficial friendships I felt I had, where we would only ever meet up if alcohol was involved. I was in a job I hated and felt I had no real direction. I remember I used to firmly believe that I would die young because I just could not picture a future of any kind. I struggled to make plans for the upcoming weekends, so every weekend I would end up in this cycle of rejection and self medicating because everyone else was busy and didn’t want me around.
It’s also around that age that friends were getting engaged, getting awesome promotions or going on extended trips to Europe. I was living paycheck to paycheck despite making a decent wage. I could barely make plans for dinner let alone a trip that needed 6 months of planning and saving. I had however, managed to establish a pretty decent exercise routine and I was sticking with it. I had finally started looking at my nutrition and what I was putting into my body. I was living with a vegan at the time (shoutout to my legend of flatmate Lucy) who was showing us all a different way of eating. She had a zest for life I’d never come across before, and was really pivotal in what I did next, as I remember thinking ugh, why can’t I be more like Lucy!
I also had a friend (Megan Luscombe) that was a relationship coach, an incredible singer, and despite being one of the coolest people I had ever met - she provided me the opportunity to attend one of her in-person workshops she was facilitating on Self-Sabotage. This was an absolute game changer for me, it helped me to recognise the role I had been playing in my own life, the barriers I had been subconsciously creating and what could be done about it. I came away from this workshop completely inspired and invigorated to do something about my life. Seriously, I cannot recommend Megan and her work highly enough - check her out here and thank me later.
This workshop combined with a house full of flatmates trying to be better, led me to sign up to my first ever Dry July. Literally no one thought I would be able to do it. Not a soul. Not even me. It was laughable. And I’m not going to lie, the first week I found it a big challenge as I realised how much of my life centred around alcohol. I used to rely on it when I was stressed out, overwhelmed, upset, excited, happy…you name it, there was a glass of wine with my name on it ready to go (sauvignon please).
But, as time went by, I realised the fog was clearing a bit. I was more productive. I was able to get up early on Sundays and go to yoga. I was going to farmers markets and out for dinners and was able to savour the flavours more. And I noticed the hangexity wasn’t there. The Fear had gone. The cringe of waking up and realising I’d drunk messaged an ex and then replied to my own drunk message. It was gone.
I ended up raising $1000 AUD towards Dry July for that month. I surprised myself with what I could achieve when I put my own well being first. I started applying for jobs outside of the industry I was in, started exploring a move to Sydney for a fresh start, started prioritising sober catch ups with friends.
But then it all imploded a few months later when I was made redundant from a job I hated with a passion. You’d think it would have been a sense of relief, but it wasn’t - it was again a physical pain. That feeling of failure swamped me, and before long I was sitting on my kitchen floor, home alone, hungover and had found something to help end it all. I was inconsolable, the exhaustion was overwhelming and I could not process anything. At the time, we were living with the coolest dog you ever did meet - Leo, a massively overweight, brown and white border-collie. He had become my little shadow while living with us and I genuinely believe he saved my life that day.
He hadn’t been walked, so came and sat with me on the kitchen floor and nudged my hands. In that moment, I remember thinking I can handle letting everyone else down because they’d all be so disappointed in me already - but I couldn’t leave this earth thinking I’d let him down. So, I figured I would take him for a walk as my last activity, make sure he knew it wasn’t his fault, then come back and finish the job.
We walked and walked. I’d left my phone at home so that I couldn’t be interrupted, but I had Leo and that was all that mattered. I cried and cried for most of the walk until I just had nothing left in me. I remember thinking how tired I was. How exhausting it was having to pick up and start over. How miserable life in Melbourne was making me. And most of all - how was I here again?? I’d had so many painful moments in my life leading up to that point where I just felt like a complete failure. Why couldn’t I get my shit together like everyone else? Or at least have some kind of control of things??
By the time I got home, two of my best friends were sitting on my doorstep. They were worried they couldn’t get hold of me, and after checking the house and realising the dog was gone - put two and two together so waited for me to come home. Hannah and Briar also saved my life that day - as they came into the house, held me and let me cry. They didn’t offer solutions, they just listened. They did however tell me that under no circumstances was I going to be pulling out of the Halloween party happening later that night, as it was a team costume that needed 4 people.
Thank goodness it worked. I got myself up, showered, ate some food, then started getting dressed. I was going as Peter Criss (aka Catman) from KISS, and we had gone ALL out on our costumes. The party ended up being the most epic send off to Melbourne life, as I decided that night that I was coming home. The next day, I booked a ticket back to NZ. I even signed off my Edinburgh Castle rib tattoo (more on that another day) with a “Mischief Managed” quote from Harry Potter on my last day in Melbourne. It was another big start, but I was feeling good about it.
Looking back, the move home is easily the best decision I have ever made. Whilst it hasn’t been easy, it certainly helped me heal. It gave me the time and space away from the constant cycle of partying, it allowed me to be looked after by family again, and it helped me re-calibrate. I also went straight out and started stalking border-collie puppies, eventually finding my soul-dog in Blue - who turns out was born the day I left Aussie.
However, there was still something not quite right. In the time I have been back in NZ (coming up 5 years this year), I have moved house 8 times. I have also had 8 different jobs. I have deeply struggled to make friends and those I did become close with have mostly all left. I became somewhat reliant on my family for social interactions. I’d had an incredibly traumatic time with one company that I am still working through to this day. I was dating with absolutely no luck, and found myself heartbroken and hopeless all over again.
It was during this time that I discovered Untapped and signed up to one of their personal development courses aimed at High Performing Women. This was an 8 week programme that really challenged everything I had in me. It had me confronting and facing parts of me I never wanted to, but it was an incredible experience that I got so much out of. So much, that I even signed up to the next one - a deeper, more intensive 3 month dive into development. Briony and her team were unicorns. What they have created and the community they have fostered is next level. My self awareness was now through the roof, but I was still feeling a bit rudderless. I was still on my own, in a career I hated with no future planned.
I was constantly trying to improve myself, trying to get to the bottom of why I am the way I am. Why do I have these incredible lows that lead me to dangerous, suicidal thoughts. And why can I be totally fine the next day and bouncing back like no tomorrow? It was then that I started therapy. I recognised I had got as far as I could on my own and needed more help understanding me.
So, cut back to that sunny day in Feb, my therapist has just dropped a truth grenade on me, and I’m sat there thinking oh fuck. Now what?
From here, it was an appointment with my GP. I went in to discuss what my therapist had raised, and the research I’d done and how it was just all making a lot of sense. I shit you not, my GP looked at me, then back at my file, then back at me, then scrolled furiously through the notes, then let out a little gasp - “I can’t believe I missed it!”.
Huh. Okay then!
This is where the waiting game started, I had a screening appointment with a local psychologist, then was put on a 7 month wait to have my 90min (very traumatising) appointment with the Psychiatrist as they are the only ones that can diagnose.
Another 2 months before the report came through - a heartbreaking 9 page read. But it came with the validation and confirmation I didn’t realise I had been holding my breath for. ADHD, PTSD and General Anxiety Disorder. What a trifecta!
Nothing surprising, but having spent my whole life just assuming I was broken and that I was basically just useless at everything - it was overwhelming. I went through (and am still going through) a few different stages. Grief, anger, sadness and relief were the main ones. Grief for what could have been, anger for going so long without knowing, sadness for the younger me who could have done so much with this knowledge, and relief - relief that I finally had some answers. Answers, and something I can work with.
I’m not broken. I’m different. And that’s okay.
