Tag: Depression

Attending the University of Notre Dame was always my dream. I loved the mission of the university and wanted to continue the legacy of my grandfather and great-grandfather. I vividly remember when my grandfather took me to a football game as an eighth grader. We went to the Grotto and lit candles. He smiled at me and said, “If you work hard, you can study here.”

Though I nodded back, I didn’t completely believe him. Even after being accepted to Notre Dame, I was afraid I wouldn’t have the tools or talent to measure up to my peers.

As a student with ADHD and dyslexia, I have often experienced doubt and struggled in my academic career during periods of transition, e.g., moving to a school for children with learning differences in second grade, attending a ‘regular’ high school, and then going to college. These periods are challenging for everyone, but the learning curve for individuals with learning differences and ADHD can be especially steep and intimidating.

[Free Download: Securing Accommodations in College]

Despite my fears, I loved my first semester of college. Academically, I worked really hard to succeed at such a rigorous school. I sat in the front row of every lecture, tried to know each professor personally, signed up for exam accommodations, and relentlessly studied.

I took my notes on paper to limit my distractions using beautifully colored pens. I made flashcards, went to office hours, checked homework with friends, and did every practice problem I could get my hands on. These habits set me up for success. I also joined clubs, started a job, auditioned for a play, attended football games, and spent time with new friends I cherish even now in my third year.

I experienced really tough moments, too. My schedule was absolutely insane (and still is my junior year!). Outside of Friday and Saturday nights, I worked constantly. There was no time for Netflix or naps. I also experienced intense exam anxiety. I put a ton of pressure on myself to be at the top of my class, even if it really didn’t matter. I recall scoring below average on my first calculus exam. I was so hard on myself even though I improved my score on every subsequent exam.

I also made careless mistakes that I beat myself up about, like when I missed my first online quiz for my microeconomics class. It changed my grade average to 56%. Yet, I still managed to end the semester with an A. Another time, I missed the deadline to apply to be a class council representative because I didn’t read one email. Yet, that missed opportunity led me to run for vice president of my hall, one of the best experiences I have ever had.

[Self-Test: ADHD Symptoms in Women and Girls ]

Those “failures” seemed devastating at the moment, but they always worked out for the best. I just needed to problem-solve, take deep breaths, and pivot. I am incredibly grateful to those who supported me, such as the girls in my hall, kind professors, the Sara Bea Accessibility Services Center, and my family.

ADHD College Advice for First-Year Students

Here are 10 pieces of college advice I would offer any incoming student with ADHD and learning differences:

1. Learn the names of as many people as possible and say “hello.” You never know who might become your best friend. However, know that not everyone will jive with you — and that’s totally okay.
2. Do not discount yourself — yes, you really do belong. Say yes to as many opportunities as possible. This is the best time to explore your passions and the myriad communities on campus.
3. Figure out what motivates you. Because of my ADHD, I really need deadlines or someone to hold me accountable. I am most engaged and productive when I am really busy.
4. Get a job on campus and make your own money. Deposit some money into a long-term savings account, buy your textbooks, splurge at Trader Joe’s, take a spontaneous solo trip to Las Vegas — whatever floats your boat.
5. Sit in the front and pay attention in class. If you scroll through your phone during lectures, you will need to spend far longer studying the night before an exam.
6. If you choose to be busy, have a positive attitude about it. You can invest your valuable time however you see fit. If it makes you miserable, do something else.
7. Create a toolkit of things that help you stay focused. A drink always helps me pay attention in long lectures. I go to Starbucks or use my electric kettle to brew tea from my dorm room. I also use colorful pens to make taking notes more fun. If all else fails, walk to the bathroom and back to reset.
8. Ask, and you shall receive. Do not be afraid to reach out to people in your campus community. Cold emails can lead to jobs, friendships, and new insights. You have nothing to lose, so be assertive and ask for what you want.
9. Conflict is normal. Yet, always assume good intent, especially with friends, teammates, professors, and project members. Active listening, “I” statements, and compassion go a long way. It’s totally okay to think differently than others, but ignoring their perspectives is not okay.
10. Prioritize your sleep, exercise, and faith (if you practice). Investing time in these activities will make you far happier and more productive.

ADHD College Advice: Next Steps

Meaghan Northup grew up in Louisville, Kentucky, and is a junior at the University of Notre Dame where she is studying Business Analytics and French.

CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
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The other night, when my girlfriend and I sat in the kitchen enjoying a cuppa tea, I got up mid-conversation to put away a pack of cat treats. “I’m still listening!” I shouted as I walked into the adjacent room.

She kept talking, and I kept puttering around. I apologized afterward, as I felt I’d been a bit rude. Thankfully, it didn’t bother her. But I realized I putter often, doing small jobs in a relaxed way. And it’s not just with her but during every kitchen-adjacent conversation with anyone, or when I’m on the phone, or when I’m hosting people…you get the idea. While it looks like I’ve tuned out the conversation, moving around and tidying up actually helps me be an active listener.

I love my kitchen. It’s a very active space that is permanently untidy in a homely, practical way. I find cooking and making cocktails a great creative outlet, especially when I’m entertaining. I’ve made my kitchen as ADHD-friendly as possible, keeping the stuff I use most visible and accessible while dancing about.

[Self-Test: Do I Have ADHD? Symptom Test for Adults]

British custom dictates that we offer (force feed) our guests a drink or cuppa tea when they arrive, generally making the kitchen our first port of call. When my girlfriend pops by, she’ll perch on a stool at the breakfast bar (a stool I instinctively dodge or walk into every time I pass it rather than tuck it away). I’ll make the drinks. She’ll talk. I’ll listen. Then, I’ll get an overwhelming urge to reorganize my cupboards.

I’m not uninterested in what she’s saying — that woman could give a blow-by-blow account of a puddle drying, and I would hang on her every word. It’s just that I suddenly notice all these little tasks, and it’s like an itch! I really can’t help myself — I simply must do them then and there.

So, now I find myself standing there, doing my best not to interrupt her and practice my active listening skills without accidentally stabbing myself in the hand with the paring knife I’m ‘discreetly’ polishing.

By the time she finishes telling me about her day, the area around me looks like an IKEA showroom, yet the rest of the kitchen is still scruffy!

[Free Download: How to Focus (When Your Brain Says ‘No’!)]

Then it’s my turn to talk, and all my activity ceases as she has such captivating listening eyes and a radiant smile.

Overall, I think my kitchen tidying is a good ADHD habit. For example, I’ll notice I’ve run out of clean cooking knives, wash the ones I’ve left beside some bowls, and then start cleaning the bowls. The next thing you know, I’ve washed all the pots and pans and blitzed the entire room in a whirlwind of disinfectant wipes, blissfully forgetful of the ice cream quietly melting in the next room, still bereft of the spoon I went to fetch in the first place. Then I’ll realize I’ve forgotten the spoon, go back into the kitchen, get distracted by a spot I missed cleaning as I open the cutlery drawer…and here we go again!

Is this an ADHD thing or something that everyone else does?

Active Listening: Next Steps

CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
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Can’t get out of bed? Whether it’s due to a poor night’s sleep (hello, night owls), stubborn morning grogginess (i.e., sleep inertia), or dread-induced paralysis, struggling to wake up – while a common issue among individuals with ADHD – is a rough way to start the day… everyday.

Try these suggestions to get your mind, body, and environment aligned to help you get out of bed in the morning with less resistance and more alertness.

Fight Sleep Inertia by Waking the Body

• Develop or reaffirm the habit of placing your phone or alarm across the room where you can hear it go off in the morning, but you must move in some capacity to shut it off. (Movement is key!)
• Invite bright light into your room – another step you prepare the night prior – to cue your body that it is time to awaken. Leave a portion of your curtains/blinds open to allow the morning sunlight to gradually brighten your room. Alternatively, invest in a lamp that activates with your alarm.
• Drink water as soon as you can after waking. Beyond hydration, the cool water will provide a mini shock to your body and quickly eliminate grogginess. (Leave a glass of water on your night stand the evening prior and do your best to take even a small sip right after waking.) Give it a try; even if your head hits the pillow again for 5 more minutes, you’ll find it much harder to get any additional sleep with your body now activated.

[Get This Free Download: How to Sleep Better with ADHD]

• Continue to cool your body temperature! The temporary discomfort will continue to activate your body and bring you out of a groggy state. Throw off your covers and let the cool air hit you; if you got up to shut off your alarm, go ahead and open a window while you’re at it. Was your phone or alarm on your way to the bathroom? Then step in to splash cold water on your face and/or take a cold shower.
• Get your blood pumping with light stretches. You can tense and relax while still in bed, after getting up to silence your alarm and drink water, and at any other point when your body could use a boost.
• Breathe deeply for a few moments to increase your attention and help you feel refreshed and revitalized.
• Use the power of scent to cue your body to wakefulness. Increase alertness with various aromas like peppermint, eucalyptus, or rosemary. Consider using sprays or diffusers (even better if they go off automatically). You can even set your coffee maker to start brewing just after your alarm goes off. The inviting smell of hot coffee can lure you out of bed.
• Play energizing sounds, like upbeat music from your favorite playlist.

[Read: How to Break the Exhausting Habit of Revenge Bedtime Procrastination]

Mentally Overcome “Can’t Get Out of Bed” Thoughts

• Resist the snooze. I know – if it were that easy to do, you probably wouldn’t be reading this. But when you’re reaching for the snooze button, it might help to remember that it actually prolongs sleep inertia, potentially making your morning feel even worse.
• Focus on the next step. If you’re overwhelmed at the thought of everything you have to do, take a deep breath and try to pay attention only to your next small step, like getting your body out of bed, putting on slippers, taking one step and then another out of your room and into the bathroom, and so on.
• Reward yourself when you get out of bed. Text a friend (which can also keep you accountable), enjoy a great breakfast, read your favorite blog, watch an episode of your favorite TV show as you get ready – anything that will make your morning as enjoyable as possible.
• Reflect on three positive things that have happened in the past week to start your day on an encouraging note of gratitude.
• Plan positive moments throughout the day and remember them when you’re waking. Write them down in a place you can easily look in the morning.
• Come up with positive affirmations related to waking. Tell yourself that you enjoy waking up in the morning. Say it enough, and you’ll believe it.

Getting to a point where you can spring out of bed and start your day 100% energized won’t happen overnight. With any of these techniques, give yourself time to build consistency so these strategies become part of your morning routine. If you have chronic difficulties with sleep, whether from ADHD and/or other conditions that impact sleep, including stress, consult with your doctor to determine the best sleep/wake strategies for you and if any adjustments to your treatment plans are necessary.

How to Get Out of Bed in the Morning with ADHD: Next Steps

CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
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Growing up, I was a normal, active kid who loved school and participated in many sports and activities. I loved school and it came easily to me! When I was 15, my life changed when I had an accident while horseback riding. I have absolutely no recollection of the event itself, but I know that I landed on my head.

After about 45 minutes of unconsciousness, followed by another 5 hours where I was unable to recollect anything – I had no short- or long-term memory – I “woke up” in the hospital. By “woke up” I mean I was able to retain enough information to have a conversation that lasted longer than 5 minutes.

After a few days in the hospital, where I answered the same questions over and over (What is your name? What year is it? Who is the president?) I was sent on my way. But during my time in care and even afterward, I kept hearing variations of “You’re fine” and “You’re okay,” which troubled me, because I didn’t feel fine or okay. I struggled to recall anything before the accident. And I don’t just mean the hours or day before, but my whole life prior to the event. When I shared these concerns, my doctor assured me that it’s normal not to remember “the days” before the concussion, and that my memory should come back in a couple of weeks, “but you may not get it all back. You’ll be fine!”

After the incident, I was referred to an optometrist to help clear up my double- and triple-vision. Today, this would have been an obvious sign that something was wrong with my brain, not my eyes. But we didn’t know back then what we know now.

Worse than the memory loss, though, was my loss of impulse and emotional control. It felt like there was someone inside of me controlling – and ruining – everything. Still, I was told “You’re okay” and “It’s fine!” so many times that I stopped questioning what was happening to me, even though I didn’t feel like myself. I spent the rest of my high school years quietly struggling. I forgot how to learn and had no control over my emotions or behaviors – yet I was soon off to college.

[Read: 11 Strategies That Improve Emotional Control at School and Home]

I had not talked to anyone about what I was going through because I was told that I was fine – end of discussion. But once in college, I talked about my experiences with my new best friend. He was the first one to tell me, “Dude, you are not okay.” He told my roommate, who was a neuropsychology major, who then brought me to her psychology professor, who then put me in touch with his friend, a neurologist. He confirmed that my “concussion” was in fact a traumatic brain injury and that I had not received any of the post-injury care that I needed.

I was in denial at first. But being told that I was “not okay” did something to me: It gave me the confidence to finally advocate for myself. Eventually, I began to see a counselor who helped me deal with the shame and self-hatred I had developed due to everything that had happened. She helped me realize that it’s okay to not be okay, and she encouraged me to focus on moving forward and building myself into someone whom I can love and respect.

Today, I’m a teacher and learning specialist for twice-exceptional students — those with brilliant minds who also have conditions that impact learning, emotions, and behavior.

Why do I share this deeply personal story? Because, as a teacher, I think it is a great example of the damage we can do when we tell students who are struggling with big emotions or otherwise that they are “fine” or “okay” when we know – and they know — that they are neither.

[Read: “Did Something Happen at School Today?”]

I know that we mean well, but these words often have the unintended effect of negating a child’s feelings, as was the case for me after my injury. If we continuously tell students that they are okay when they are not, we cause them to question themselves and refrain from seeking help and advocating for themselves.

So how should we respond when a student isn’t doing okay?

What Emotionally Struggling Students Need

1. Acknowledge their feelings. Even when you concretely know that your student is not in danger, real pain, or emotional turmoil, it’s important to validate how they’re feeling. This doesn’t mean that you need to agree with them or even believe that their response is appropriate to the situation. On that note…

2. Remember that feelings are complicated. All young students are not always the best at recognizing their emotions, but it is particularly difficult for neurodivergent students. They may struggle to identify what triggered their emotions, which often makes for implausible explanations that seem attention-seeking. Your student might fear, for example, that they are being chased by a giant worm. Instead of dismissing them, recognize that your student may be struggling to identify and verbalize what’s really going on. Honor this emotion of fear anyway by saying, “That seems really scary” or “That sounds terrifying!”

3. Provide options for calming down. We can’t start to problem-solve in a state of emotional dysregulation. That said – and this should go without saying – do not tell your students to calm down. If they could, they would. Instead, offer them tools and strategies to help them reclaim emotional control.

I have a student who (virtually) storms into my classroom at least once a week. I let him express his feelings, acknowledge that I can see his frustration, and say something like, “I would really like to discuss this with you, but first, can we take a second to remember where we are?” With that, I ask the student to tell me five things he sees, four things he feels, three things he hears, two things he knows he can do, and one thing he is going to do. At this point (and usually after a lot of eye-rolling) we are able to move on to problem-solving.

4. Help students name feelings and look past the surface to identify the real problem. By building their emotional vocabulary, you’re helping students pinpoint how they’re feeling – anything from frustrated and bored to worried and irritable – which will allow them to take control and figure out what’s behind their feelings.

Once your student identifies what caused their feelings, give them options for problem-solving (and how you can play a role), like “mediate conversation between students” (assuming there’s some conflict here), “discuss methods for managing emotions” (e.g., what to do when challenging class material causes frustration), and “talk with parents about student needs” among other choices. Nine times out of ten, students simply want to be heard and have their problems recognized. Giving your students options to identify the type of help they want and need will empower them to seek out appropriate resources the next time a similar situation arises.

As I learned after years of suffering silently, it’s okay to not be okay. This mentality doesn’t mean that we’re encouraging students to accept defeat. In fact, it’s the opposite. When we can admit that we’re struggling – a little or a lot – it puts us on a path toward finding help to make things better. The next time a student isn’t doing okay, acknowledge it. Believe them so they won’t question themselves as they open the door to resiliency and self-advocacy. If we do not provide a truly supportive and safe space for them to express their emotions, we actively hurt their resilience and self-advocacy.

It’s Okay to Not Be Okay: Next Steps for Emotional Control

CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
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As a child growing up in the ‘80s, I was bombarded with messages about “stranger danger.” Imagine my surprise, then, when a stranger arrived at the door of my second-grade classroom to take me away, and no one seemed to think it strange.

I obediently rose from my small desk to meet said stranger, who had lots of questions for me as we made our way down the hallway: How old was I? 8. Did I have any brothers or sisters? Yes, three. Which hand did I use to write? I raised my left hand when I meant to raise my right – a nervous mistake.

The stranger and I made our way to a small, windowless room I had never seen before, where other children around my age, unfamiliar to me, were sitting at a large, oddly shaped table. That small room eventually became a regular part of my routine. Why was I there? Because of reading challenges — from word recognition to reading comprehension — uncovered from earlier rounds of testing.

I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised. School had already been a challenge for me even before the second grade. Starting in kindergarten, I struggled with seemingly simple tasks — learning the alphabet, tying my shoes, cutting with scissors, and other primary language and motor skills — that left me behind my classmates. Making friends was a challenge, and I was always just a step behind the conversation or action.

Oddly enough, no one discussed this change in my schedule, not my teachers, parents, or the few friends I had. Months after the stranger first appeared, acknowledgement of this change finally came in the form of a piercing, unforgettable comment from my teacher – my tormentor. When I was allowed to rejoin a reading group in my “regular” classroom, my teacher said, “Let’s see how long you last.”

[Read: Reading Strategies That Grow with Your Child]

My reading did improve, although standardized test scores indicated otherwise. Eventually, I stopped receiving reading remediation, but my school experience continued to be bumpy. I struggled to prepare for tests, and even with significant preparation, I would be met with tearful results and frustration from my parents. For some time in middle school, I got so anxious that I would get sick to my stomach on Monday mornings, which landed me in the emergency room; at age 11, I was diagnosed with a stomach ulcer.

Even in areas where I did excel, I wasn’t free from stumbling. I loved physics and understood its theories but would get stuck on memorizing and applying formulas. I had to repeat math, and a college with no math requirement was a top priority when I began applying. The understanding I had formed of myself as a learner — not as quick as the other kids who seemed to “get” school so much more easily than me — seemed at odds with some of the honors classes into which I had been placed.

Still, I survived school with an anxious sense of uncertainty, not ever understanding why it was so difficult for me.

Hidden Strengths

As researcher and social entrepreneur Dr. Todd Rose notes, “We all have jagged profiles; there is no average.” This is certainly true in my case. Much later in my life, during my first neuropsychological evaluation, I learned that I had combined-type ADHD that had been undiagnosed all this time. I exhibited significant struggles with executive functioning, including working memory. My oral reading accuracy was at the 30th percentile, with a “high rate of errors” along with other reading difficulties. And despite believing that I was not good in math, I actually scored above the 90th percentile in this subject.

[Read: The Dyslexia and ADHD Connection]

My profile is, indeed, jagged. My weaknesses, like difficulty with sustained attention, are offset by areas of great strength, like visual-perceptual skills. Of course, given the lack of a diagnosis, it took 30 years for me to uncover whether I was truly less capable or if there was a reason for my struggles.

The Champions Who Kept Me Going

Indeed, I experienced many struggles. But I did meet some champions along the way — select teachers and individuals who believed in my potential and encouraged me. I also found a group of friends with whom I could feel smart because we were all much more interested in learning things outside of school. I found joy working on automobiles and anything mechanical that I could take apart and put back together.

Even in college, which was a difficult transition for me, to say the least, what kept me going when I was one phone call away from dropping out were the people who cared for me, believed in my potential, and challenged me to work toward it. This same motivational factor reemerged several times throughout my life, which I credit for my successes.

A few months after graduating, I drove my younger sibling to middle school — the same one I had attended a decade earlier. We ran into one of my former teachers, and just as she had years earlier, she became a champion in my life that day when she encouraged me to do the unthinkable: Return to middle school. I enlisted as a substitute teacher that same week, fueling a passion to change the way we think about and educate kids.

Today, I am the president of The Dyslexia Foundation, director of the Global Literacy Hub at the Yale Child Study Center, and executive director of The Southport School and The Southport CoLAB, which serves kids who think and learn differently, many of whom have been marginalized or struggled in mainstream academic environments.

People frequently ask me, “What does it take to help struggling kids thrive in school?” I don’t have a singular answer, but I do know this: How children feel about themselves depends heavily on whether they have champions in their lives. These champions can leverage a child’s strengths, improve their self-perception, and motivate them toward positive change. I know this because my own champions helped me change my internal dialogue, little by little.

At my school in Southport, Connecticut, we bet on our students, just like some key people in my life bet on me. We choose to believe in their potential so that they don’t have to find those one or two teachers who believe in them. We don’t allow strangers to arrive at classroom doors and pull students out, as the relationship we build with our students is based on trust. We champion them unconditionally and appreciate them fully – no one is a stranger here.

Supporting Students with Learning Differences: Next Steps

Dr. Benjamin N. Powers is the executive director of The Southport School, an independent day school for cerebrodiverse children in grades 2-8 with language-based learning differences such as dyslexia and attention issues. He is also the founder and executive director of The Southport CoLAB, Director of the Global Literacy Hub at the Yale Child Study Center, a senior scientist with Haskins Laboratories, and president of The Dyslexia Foundation.

CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
Since 1998, ADDitude has worked to provide ADHD education and guidance through webinars, newsletters, community engagement, and its groundbreaking magazine. To support ADDitude’s mission, please consider subscribing. Your readership and support help make our content and outreach possible. Thank you.

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Some time ago, I came down for breakfast and discovered a curious stack of bottles in the kitchen. It was a resolute stack. It knew it wanted to be there. I knew I didn’t want it to be there. One was a vitamin bottle, another an allergy pill bottle, and a third a prescription pill bottle. The three of them were stacked on top of one another in the middle of my otherwise pristine and shiny counter.

It drove me bananas.

Why was it there? I knew it was thanks to my husband, but why was he doing this? It was different than the way he usually left his things. This was intentional, and that bugged me even more. I thought, “He’s standing there stacking this thing for the niftiness of it, probably admiring it for some physics or mathematical property and walking away without a care for how the house looks.”

Grrrr.

I unstacked the bottles and put them back in their little nook.

The next day, the stack returned.

This seesaw continued — him stacking, me unstacking.

I should mention that my husband and I both have ADHD. He’s brilliant, unruffled, and messy. I’m creative, a worrier, and organized. We make a great team.

[Read: “The 3 Vital Keys to Our Happy ADHD Marriage”]

But the combination sometimes presents its challenges, as with the enigma of the tower of bottles in the kitchen. What’s more, even after our diagnoses (mine came well after his), I still spent so many years in the dark about ADHD and how we each manage it. That all started to change for me when I decided to become an ADHD coach.

An Annoying Habit? Or Creative Problem-Solving at Work?

In the midst of our stacking and unstacking, I happened to be in coaching training and learning about “externalizing” as a strategy for managing ADHD issues with memory and forgetfulness. Externalizing has many forms — paper and digital planners, buzzers, alarms, vibrating watches, timers, visual cueing — you name it, it’s out there.

I marveled at these tools and admired those with ADHD who sought out these strategies, experimented with them, and incorporated them into their lives.

So there I was, admiring folks who used cues, while at the same time, over in my kitchen, getting peeved about The Stack, and unstacking it.

[Read: “My Keys Were in the Fridge!” ADHD Stories of Wildly Misplaced Items]

Until one day it hit me.

Wait a second. Is this—? Could it be—?

I went downstairs when I heard my husband making dinner.

“Honey,” I asked with curiosity for once, “why do you stack those pill bottles? I never really asked you.” He shrugged with a simple matter-of-factness.

“It’s a way to remember to take my pills. I’d been forgetting. If they are stacked, it tells me I haven’t taken them yet.”

I closed my eyes. It was stunning to see how easy it was for me to assume and not delve further. Truthfully, it never occurred to me there might be anything else to understand about my husband’s bottle stacking. Yet there I was, blind to something so remarkable.

Talk about humbling. Talk about how celebratory I suddenly felt, too, about living with ADHD.

ADHD Brains Are Solution-Oriented

There’s a creative current that runs through our ADHD self-management systems that we sometimes don’t see or acknowledge in ourselves. We come to the table with self-knowledge already in place, knowing through trial and error what has worked and what hasn’t, that we don’t often give ourselves credit for.

In the kitchen that day, when my husband revealed his own self-care solution, I was so proud of him. And I realized there is much yet for me to learn — about him, myself, and others with ADHD.

I’m so ready.

So if you see a tower of stacked vitamin and prescription bottles in the middle of my kitchen counter right now, please know that it is not due to madness or some passive aggressive stunt. It’s due to brilliant self-awareness.

Creative Problem-Solving and ADHD: Next Steps

CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
Since 1998, ADDitude has worked to provide ADHD education and guidance through webinars, newsletters, community engagement, and its groundbreaking magazine. To support ADDitude’s mission, please consider subscribing. Your readership and support help make our content and outreach possible. Thank you.

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Peopling is hard. Peopling with strangers is harder. When you’re neurodivergent, every social situation can feel like a slow-moving catastrophe of missed cues and faux pas. As my husband and I stepped into the hotel for the Horror Writers Association’s annual StokerCon gathering, disaster seemed to loom. I faced three days of intense peopling. Surely, I would screw it up somehow.

We walked into a sea of black-clothed people in nametags. I immediately noticed my Twitter buddy Andrew Sullivan, an accomplished author recognizable by his tats. “Hi!” I said, touching his arm — then realizing he was rushing by with a group of other people. I swallowed a wince: Social faux pas number one accomplished, and I hadn’t even reached the registration table.

But Andrew gave me a genuine smile. “Hey, Eliza!” he said. “Good to see you! I’ll catch up in a bit.” He disappeared into the crowd. I blinked a few times. He hadn’t ignored me. My impulsive greeting wasn’t brushed off as strange. That was different. My husband and I found the conference’s check-in. I was the writer. He’d come along for moral support — I wasn’t walking the social gauntlet alone.

I shouldn’t have worried, though I didn’t know it at the time.

Finding My Neurodivergent Safe Space

I’d started writing Southern Gothic horror about a year earlier; while I’d interacted with plenty of other writers on Twitter, I didn’t know about the horror community’s strong commitment to supporting its marginalized members — including the neurodiverse ones. So often, we’re lost in the shuffle. While people may say they “support neurodiversity” — and most do — they’re unwilling to do the hard work of understanding us.

We have trouble with eye contact. We overshare. We burn out and need a break; we miss social cues, then miss more while we’re trying to cover our embarrassment. To people who don’t understand, we can read as rude, condescending, or worse. It’s excruciating for us and alienating for others.

[Free Download: 8 Ways to Get Better at Small Talk]

The head of the Horror Writers Association, John Edward Lawson, understands this all too well. “As a person with CPTSD, severe depression, and ADHD, who is also a parent of someone on the autism spectrum, I am intimately familiar with the challenges faced when navigating a society engineered against your needs,” he says. “My belief as a leader is that you don’t boost your community by raising the ceiling, you do so by raising the floor; people who are forgotten, left out, or dismissed will contribute in groundbreaking ways when able to participate.”

I’d walked into the ultimate neurodivergent safe space.

This started to dawn on me when my cadre of Twitter buddies recognized me from across the bookroom — and shouted my name.

I hadn’t expected shouting, which is usually my first impulse and usually ends with a side-eye and a dismissal of over-enthusiasm.

“Can I give you a hug?” I asked after wending my way over. One more time, I stopped myself from wincing: Certainly, I’d said the wrong thing again. No one hugs people they just met.

“Um, I hope you give us a hug!” one of them replied.

I’d found my not-scary scary people.

[Self-Test: Could You Have Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria?]

Where the ‘Weird Kids’ Are

One woman had fire-engine-red hair, long on one side and buzzed on the other. One wore a fanny pack and carried emoji signs he threatened to deploy in place of facial expression. Some had wild tats, and some had none. They were lawyers and accountants, grocery-store clerks, and parents. Some were super-extra, and some were quiet. When I confessed that I was scared I’d be the weird kid, they cracked up. “No, you’re not the weird kid,” they all told me. “I’m the weird kid.” One swore that he spent his childhood wearing a cape. Another said he used to carry a dictionary around for reading — and personal protection.

“Personal protection?” I asked.

He told us about clocking his childhood tormentor with Merriam-Webster, and I might’ve fallen a little bit in love. Someone else might have called it “over-sharing,” but we were all “over-sharing.” No one cared. When a woman spent half an hour explaining her unabashed love for seaQuest, it wasn’t odd. Her passion was beautiful; we appreciated her energy and excitement with the same enthusiasm she handed us. Of course, we wanted her to tell us. Of course, it wasn’t weird. Did she like it? Only that mattered. The “cool” kids had stopped making our rules, and we were free.

But StokerCon went farther than simply tolerating our social quirks. The HWA planned carefully to accommodate its neurodiverse members. Though we had panels all day, people were vocal about becoming burnt out with too much peopling; they took breaks, and no one felt ashamed about it. StokerCon, as Lawson notes, included, “expanded virtual events and asynchronous workshops, a variety of event spaces such as the quiet rooms,” and diversity grants were awarded through the Horror Scholarships program. Lawson didn’t just plan on an institutional level, either. When I brought him a book to sign and realized, cringingly, that it was a signed edition, he laughed with me.

I wasn’t alone in feeling included. Cynthia Pelayo, who won a Bram Stoker Award that weekend for her poetry collection Crime Scene (Raw Dog Screaming Press), says, “I haven’t been as vocal about myself being neurodiverse, but I think it’s important to state that and to highlight that people like us exist who fall outside of the neurotypical range. All humans deserve respect, kindness, patience, and understanding, and as a neurodiverse person, respect, kindness, understanding, and patience from the writing community has been instrumental in my success.”

That writing community’s support goes further than StokerCon, too. Jennifer Barnes runs Raw Dog Screaming Press, which scooped two Bram Stoker Awards in 2022, one in 2021, and three in 2020. “I suspect there has always been a large contingent of neurodiverse writers and, as a press, we’ve always tried to be aware of that, especially in social situations,” she says. “So when we take pitches, we don’t worry about eye contact or how the pitch is given, and we understand that conferences can be overwhelming. This also extends to all author communication.”

I spent a lot of time talking to people that weekend. I also spent a lot of time simply being myself, and that was a kind of exhausting I’d never experienced in a large-group setting. “It’ll be hard to remember to act normal,” I told my husband as we drove away from StokerCon. 

He threw me a look. “We were acting normal,” he said.

I smiled because he was right, and it was wonderful.

Socially Awkward Next Steps

CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
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A student came to me feeling angry and frustrated. “I can’t help it!” she cried, “My brain is awful.” These words pierced my heart. She felt like her ADHD was a problem. And she isn’t alone. I’ve heard far too many neurodivergent kids say similar things about themselves.

The path to learning and embracing who you are isn’t always smoothly paved, especially when a learning difference, condition, or disability is involved. When your child or student feels down or discouraged, here are some things they need to hear about their perfect neurodivergent selves:

1. Your brain is amazing! If your brain is to blame for this one thing that happened (or sometimes many things that happened) that you didn’t like, your brain is also to blame for the other millions of things about you that you do like, and that are part of you.

[Get This Free Download: How to Teach Self-Advocacy Skills to Children with ADHD]

Your condition is only one part of you. A big part? Absolutely. But still just one. I’m not asking you to separate yourself from your condition but to see yourself as a whole. Think about the things that are going (or went) well for you, like the beautiful art project that you made, the really cool LEGO display you designed and built, or that funny joke you told that left your friends and teachers laughing from their bellies. Your brain does those things because all parts of it are amazing.

2. You are not alone. Being different can feel isolating, especially when you have an invisible disability or difference. You might think you’re the only one with your experiences, and that no one else gets it because they don’t have to work through life in the same way you do. Your dad doesn’t get it because he knows everything. Your best friend doesn’t get it because she always gets good grades. Though your experiences are uniquely yours, everyone knows what it’s like to feel sad, angry, annoyed, or confused. You’re not as alone as you think you are. Maybe your dad or best friend actually get it more than you think they do. Maybe ADHD or another form of neurodivergence is an untold (or yet-to-be-discovered) part of their story, or maybe they had something happen to them that you can relate to.

3. Hard and Capable are frenemies. Whenever Hard makes an appearance, bring out Capable, who always asks Hard, “What do you want?”

Sometimes Hard likes to distract us from figuring out why it even made an appearance. Hard may appear, for example, when you’re reading a paragraph and lose your place for the third time. If you’re only focused on Hard’s presence, then you won’t be able to bring out Capable, who will help you notice that you’re losing your place because someone else is rummaging through their desk and distracting you from your reading. Capable knows that we can do hard things by adjusting, like moving to a different spot in the room to read or putting on some headphones to drown out sounds. With Capable’s help, you’ll be able to figure out what you need to do to say to Hard, “Thank you, now you can go.”

[Read: Shake Loose of Your Limiting Beliefs — a Guide for Teens with ADHD]

4. Learn from it and keep going. Maybe dyscalculia makes it difficult to concentrate in math class (and all the numbers look like Jell-O). It’s possible that hyperactivity made you jump on your chair, then another chair, until you fell. In all these situations, you may be able to trace challenges back to your condition, but you can also reflect on the experience to learn how to do things differently next time. (Remember, a reason is not an excuse.) You deserve to learn math and get extra help if you need it. You deserve to advocate for yourself and say, “I need a break” when your body feels like it really, really needs to move.

5. It’s not your fault that the world was built around neurotypical individuals. However, it is your responsibility to decide what to do about it. You deserve to be the best version of yourself, so let’s figure out how your world can be easier for you to navigate to reach your goals and aspirations.

Words of Encouragement for Neurodivergent Teens: Next Steps

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A nagging, life-long question resurfaced as I began exploring career options again: Where do I fit? And how and where am I meant to find a role that leads to a life I can be proud of?

I recently researched employer branding to better understand employer and corporate perspectives. However, it also gave me valuable insights into why the quest for the perfect job seems so elusive for people with ADHD.

Employer branding is essentially a corporation’s dating profile: It makes the company as appealing as possible for the talent it wants to attract and hire. It works like a magnet in traditional haystack recruiting, effectively pulling the needle to the recruiter, saving them time and resources searching through the rest of the hay to find it. This streamlines their hiring process as strong candidates who are also a good cultural fit are already interested and engaged with the brand. It’s the business version of a low-cut top and great hair, promoting an appealing image of the company and its culture, or “personality,” and what your work life could be like if you join them.

Chasing Another Dream Job with ADHD

Employer branding is both catnip and kryptonite for people with ADHD.

We can’t help but chase the dream job and career. We are eager to buy into the company’s brand image and idealize belonging there; to be happy in our work, with a good wage and benefits package to do something we love in a place where we feel wanted, respected, understood, and financially and socially secure. It doesn’t matter if we’ve never heard of the company or if the industry’s tanking; we view our jobs as a new adventure packed with potential, and we’re excited to make a difference. Once we’re in, we’re all in — until it starts to go wrong.

One minute, we’re super happy to finally find a ‘work home,’ and the next, we’re left feeling like something’s a bit off. People with ADHD are genuine, loyal, hard-working, open, adaptable, (far too) honest, and often socially dependent yet oblivious creatives who think differently from our non-ADHD peers. We’re genuine gold dust but with a slight catch. We make mistakes that look careless but aren’t, do things a peculiar way, and miss details (like the boring bits of the job description!). Sometimes we miss deadlines and details others deem obvious and communicate in a funny way, especially when we feel overwhelmed and don’t realize it.

[Free Download: 8 Dream Jobs For Adults with ADHD]

We make these little ADHD mistakes early on, and then we overthink every single one of them because we really care about doing good work and take great pride in it. The shame is a big blow, and we care so much that sometimes it can drive us mad. We lose sleep, and our ADHD symptoms spike, especially over unavoidable critical feedback, which we don’t always know how to react to or process in the moment. So, we do our best to adapt, or we overcompensate.

Ultimately, we get hurt — a lot — during our careers, especially when our ADHD mistakes add up. We have a higher rate of getting fired than people without ADHD. Sometimes, we’re just the wrong fit for a job, but our brains, which are primed on strong emotions like pain, rejection, and joy, blame ourselves for the mismatch. This forces us into a constant internal feedback loop fraught with negative thinking.

Debunking Employer Branding

Like most images of pretty people on social media and dating profiles, employer branding doesn’t tell the whole truth. It’s the image that the corporation genuinely aspires to and wants us to see in an attempt to build a relationship that creates loyalty and excitement even before the first interview.

The truth is that large organizations are run by a mixture of people with different attitudes, agendas, backgrounds, and images of what makes a respectable professional or a creative. Trying to meet that ambiguity can make us feel like we’re a bogart from Harry Potter, whirling and morphing every time we receive feedback until we finally turn into a balloon, whiz around the room, and retreat to the safety of our dark little cupboard. It’s exhausting, as is the unrealistic pressure we put on ourselves to be ‘perfect’.

[Free Download: How to Figure Out Your Career Calling]

So, when we encounter this seductive employer branding, with its beautiful blonde hair and gorgeous smile, we must understand that it’s as genuine as any other social media post or dating profile. But it’s also written by a good person genuinely trying to give us what they think we want too.

Of course, after the toil of job hunting, it’s natural to feel enamored by a new position. But just as we need to manage our expectations in any new relationship, we need to take a step back during the first few months, stay neutral, remember ourselves, acclimate to the job, and understand that the people we work with and for are only human. They, too, have flaws.

But don’t give up hope.

There’s a real person behind every job advertisement who is probably confused about what they want, just like you. Ultimately, they only want what’s best for their team, to hire someone they can rely on and work with, who makes a better future for them and the company. Someone they can be proud of. We have to trust that they see us for who we are, and until then, we have no choice but to get up and try again until we find that perfect fit.

Good luck.

Navigating Employer Branding: Next Steps

CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
Since 1998, ADDitude has worked to provide ADHD education and guidance through webinars, newsletters, community engagement, and its groundbreaking magazine. To support ADDitude’s mission, please consider subscribing. Your readership and support help make our content and outreach possible. Thank you.

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The space between can be rough for our kids.

Whether it’s the space between brushing teeth and putting on socks, or the space between the end of the school day and the start of swimming lessons, even a seemingly small transition point can have a big impact on our kids with ADHD. But with a bit of patience, planning, and practice, your child’s toughest transitions can eventually become second nature. Try these strategies to help your child seamlessly move through difficult “between spaces.”

1. Look for Patterns

Your child’s transition difficulties likely follow a pattern. Try writing down all the transition hot spots during your child’s day and think about what happens immediately before and after the transitions. Is your child moving from a quiet environment to a loud one with lots of people, or is it the opposite? Is the activity your child is transitioning to a boring one? Is the transition too slow, or too fast? You can also try to write down the transitions that come easily to your child to give you some clues. Maybe transitions are easier for your child when the environment is quieter, when they have a full belly, or if they can read a book on drive there.

Examining transitions in this way will help you notice patterns and think of strategies that uniquely fit the situation and are appealing for your child, like putting on their favorite song as they transition through their morning routine.

2. Visual Schedules are Your Child’s Friend

Visual reminders of the many activities and sequences your child follows throughout the day can help them mentally prepare for changes and avoid surprises. Make your child’s visual schedule as detailed as needed. For example, your child may benefit from an interactive visual schedule for their nighttime routine where each step in the routine has an associated picture card. That way, your child can physically move a picture card once the related task is completed.

But schedules don’t always have to contain images and Velcro tabs to help your child. Writing out (rather than solely verbally telling) your child the chores you expect them to complete may help with the transitions between homework, laundry, and doing the dishes. Likewise, another simple visual schedule could be writing out the tasks within an especially aversive homework assignment. Some children may thrive if their visual schedules are balanced with challenging and less challenging tasks, with breaks after especially frustrating tasks, or with a preferred activity at the end of the routine. Either way, your child will be able to see that a break or a fun reward is coming up soon.

[Free Download: Sample Schedules for Reliable Family Routines]

3. The Gift of Choice

Despite our best efforts, some things are simply out of our control, like if the school bus arrives late, or if it’s raining and your child can’t wear their favorite sandals. But even in these moments, there are always little glimmers of flexibility and choice to be found. Especially if your child’s transition difficulties are rooted in anxiety, choices, no matter how small, can provide them with a sense of control during stressful situations. If the bus is running late, you can ask your child, “Do you want to wait for the bus inside or outside?” If they can’t wear their favorite sandals, ask, “Do you want to wear tennis shoes or boots?”

Even when things are going according to plan, consider introducing flexibility and choice throughout your child’s daily transitions to break down barriers and resistance. For example, most likely the steps in your child’s bedtime routine are non-negotiable (e.g., putting on pajamas, brushing teeth, combing hair), but maybe you can let your child choose the order in which they’ll complete each step. If chores and homework are on your child’s to-do list, say, “Your choices are to do your flashcards or put away the dishes. Which one do you want to do first?”

4. Practice Frontloading

Frontloading refers to the conversations and activities that occur before an event with the intent to support a successful transition. Frontloading is another way to prepare your child for changes ahead, especially if those changes are big. For example, if your child is transferring schools, frontloading may include touring the new school in person and meeting key staff members before the official start of classes. Even better, your child can record the experience and rewatch videos of their tour. If your child feels anxious and overwhelmed at the thought of making new friends, talk through some coping tools they can independently use, like deep breathing and counting to ten. You can also talk through the best and worst possible outcomes of the upcoming activity and the likelihood of those outcomes occurring. For example, maybe your child forgot their spelling workbook, but a fellow classmate can share theirs – and now your child has made a new friend.

Frontloading can also look like having your child think through what they’ll encounter while making a transition. If your child is going to music lessons, have them visualize everything from getting ready for lessons to the noise levels of the studio and how they might react to the new environment. Maybe there are little strategies your child can think of that would make steps of these transitions easier. If getting ready for music lessons overwhelms your child, perhaps you try setting an alarm to remind your child to put their instrument by the front door, or the child makes a visual checklist and puts it near the door so your child can easily see if they have everything they need for class.

[Read: “How Can I Teach My Child to Smoothly Transition Activities?”]

5. Highlight Your Child’s Successes

There are so many transitions, including transitions within a single event (think about how Friday family night might include dinner, dessert, and multiple board games), happening all day and every day. With that in mind, think about all the transitions your child successfully completes each day, even if those switches appear minor. Remember these successes and take the time to praise your child for moving through them. Reminding your child of their success with all kinds of transitions is likely to keep them motivated when dealing with the tough ones.

ADHD and Transitions: Next Steps

CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
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A phone call from my mother changed everything.

We had always been close, but our relationship was rocky – lots of anger, frustration, and assumptions on both sides.

After a quick hello, she told me how she had read an article about older adults with ADHD. My irritation at being interrupted fizzled as my mom read the list of symptoms to me: lateness and “time blindness;” difficulty with organization; big feelings; difficulty planning and executing tasks; hyperfocus…

I froze, and my mind whirled. Of course she has ADHD — and how had I, her therapist daughter, missed it? I was stunned, and then overwhelming guilt washed over me. All these things that had felt so personal from my mom over the years, and often so inconsiderate – and that I had been so reactive to – were almost all symptoms of ADHD!

Branches of the Same Tree?

“Mom,” I said, “This absolutely sounds like you. Can you talk to your doctor? I need to think about this more.” She agreed, then spent some time reassuring me that, while she might have ADHD, I don’t. After all, I’d finished grad school, I had a great job, an impossibly busy family schedule, and a small private practice. There was no way I had ADHD, and I agreed — at first.

I went home and thought about it more. A lot more. I was already familiar with ADHD due to my work, and I’d wondered for years if my daughter might have it. Her busyness, distractibility, disorganization, and grades were all potential signs. But I never showed any signs of ADHD, right?

[Symptom Test: Could You Have Adult ADHD?]

After a week or so of reflecting on my life, my thoughts had shifted. I was a bright and sensitive child, disappearing for hours into imaginary worlds. I also picked up and dropped hobbies on the regular. My room was a mess, my desk at school the same. I did so well academically that it didn’t matter that I rushed through my work and then zoned out.

Then I hit high school, and it became impossible to manage the complexity of social relationships and a varying schedule while staying on top of my tasks. In university, I regularly had urges to leave class mid-lecture, and I sometimes acted on that urge, wandering the halls until that disquieting feeling that kept me from sitting still went away. Background noises and interruptions irritated me, but I thought that was just me being an impatient, overly sensitive jerk.

All in the Family

 That fall after my mother’s phone call, my daughter was diagnosed with ADHD and started on medication. To say it changed her life is an understatement. She said the noise in her had brain stopped, and that she was now able to focus on school and her extracurriculars. She medaled in both of her sports that year, her report cards were completely different, and her friendships blossomed. All of the tools she had learned in therapy finally clicked, and I watched her put them into practice every day.

I was diagnosed with ADHD and started medication a few months later, which also changed my life. I couldn’t believe it at first. I had been using mindfulness, dialectical behavior therapy skills, lists, planners, and other tools and systems for years, and now I understood why I was often so exhausted. While I still use these tools, medication settled something inside that has allowed me to flourish.

[Read: “Let Me Tell You How ADHD Runs in My Family”]

But the biggest change ADHD brought was in my relationship with my mom and daughter. Knowing that my mom struggles with time because of ADHD — that it’s not because she doesn’t care — allows me to stay grounded when it happens. I recognize that interruptions aren’t personal, and I let others know when I need uninterrupted time. Most profoundly, our diagnoses have given us a lens into understanding each other’s idiosyncrasies and that something might be ‘an ADHD thing.’ For my daughter, it’s negative thoughts. For me, it’s irritation. And for my mom, it’s needing to say or act on each thought, lest she forget it right away.

For my mom and me, in particular, our present diagnoses offer a lens into our past challenges. We’re able to forgive each other and know that we weren’t just doing life wrong. That it wasn’t because we didn’t love each other – it was just undiagnosed ADHD getting in the way.

Managing ADHD Across Generations

If you’re part of an intergenerational ADHD family, here are a few tips from us – three generations of women with ADHD. I hope some of them are helpful for your and your family, too.

• Learn as much as you can about ADHD. Whether you watch webinars, read books, or listen to podcasts, find reputable sources of information and soak them up. Explore what tools fit for you and put them in action.
• Keep in mind that what works for you might not work for other family members with ADHD. We all have our individual personalities and temperaments, and ADHD might express itself differently even within your nuclear family.
• Practice self-compassion. We all struggle, and those of us with ADHD are bombarded with negative messages that often become our internal self-talk. Self-compassion can slow things down, allow us to be kinder to ourselves, and set an example for our children.

ADHD Family: Next Steps

CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
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By Leslye Folmar-Harris, Ed. M.

Folmar-Harris, an accomplished teacher, clearly exhibited signs of ADHD since childhood, but was only diagnosed in adulthood — an unfortunate reality for many women of color. In this blog post, she grapples with the possible causes behind her late diagnosis, from internalized stigma to cultural attitudes.

“I was also unwilling to consider that I could have ADHD because, let’s face it, you can’t be Black in America and have something else wrong with you,” she writes. “I already have so many obstacles to vault because of my race. What would happen, then, if I did have ADHD? Would others think I’m not qualified for my career or anything else anymore?”

The writer acknowledges that it’s easy to fall into the trap of wondering “what could have been” had the diagnosis come earlier. But she’s given herself a second chance: “You can either get stuck on what you could have been,” she writes, “or you can focus on how much you’ve accomplished in spite of it all.”

Read “I Could Have Been Myself for So Much Longer.”

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