At the age of 19, years before I'd be diagnosed or medicated for anxiety or ADHD, I was pressured into taking drivers training. Well-meaning friends signed me up without my permission and since I already felt ashamed for being "behind schedule" for my age, I begrudgingly attended. What else is a certified people-pleaser to do, after all?
The classroom portion was fine, but getting on the road was horrible. Whether because of my instructor or because of my own unaddressed anxiety, I dreaded each lesson. I barely passed the course. I didn't even bother taking the driver's test, not that my instructor would have let me.
For years, I couldn't get behind a steering wheel without hearing my driving instructor's voice telling me I was "too hesitant" and having flashbacks to the irritation and scorn on his face. Humiliation would roll around in my gut and my skin would buzz with anxiety. Even writing about these memories makes me feel a little nauseated. Suffice it to say, the negative associations that my brain made with that ordeal outweighed my desire to experience the independence of driving.
I didn't take driving lessons again for over a decade.
That’s right, reader. I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 30 years old.
One more time.
At some point after my 30th birthday, my husband convinced me to sign up for driving lessons.
Fortunately, my driving instructor was significantly kinder and more patient than the instructor I had when I was 19. The motivating factors for trying again were a mixture of positive and negative, but my brain was balanced enough to take on the challenge. Despite the skill and patience of my teacher, I took three tries to pass my road test. If the person who administered my road test hadn’t seen my late-third-trimester waddle and taken pity on me by overlooking a minor error, I may have had to make a fourth attempt.
So, even with my anxiety more under control than ever before, there was still something missing. It would take me a few more years to figure out that piece of the neurological puzzle.
Progress.
I was diagnosed with ADHD just before my 35th birthday.
My birthday gift to myself that year was my first dose of lisdexamfetamine (Vyvanse), a medication commonly used to treat ADHD (I’m fully aware that stimulants aren’t for everyone, no matter how debilitating their symptoms may be, but for me medication was life-changing). I made less of the errors that had me convinced I was careless and stupid, and tried to give myself grace when mistakes still happened. My dopamine-seeking became less centered around food, my sleep improved immensely, and I felt more at home in my own body.
Reality.
I STILL have days when my ADHD feels like it's in control. By around 4pm each day, it's obvious to everyone around me that my meds have worn off. Even on my best days, I try to be productive in the earlier hours. Medication doesn't take away all of my mental health struggles, either. The darkest months of the year still wear away at my sanity. Keeping track of schedules and details for my five children only gets harder as they all get older, regardless of the state of my brain chemicals; and I still REALLY don't like making phone calls.
My mental health will be a work-in-progress for the rest of my life. Medication is one element of that progress.
The next phase.
Sometime last year, I started feeling like my medication wasn’t as effective anymore. I found out that this is typical during the hormonal shifts that come with perimenopause. Yay. Back to finding ways to cope with the ups and downs of a brain that can’t regulate its own chemicals.
In the process of grieving a life that “could have been”, if only entire generations of women hadn’t been ignored by the medical community because of the way their ADHD symptoms presented, I have surrounded myself with friends who understand me. In true “me” fashion, I’ve immersed myself in research to better understand my own brain.
And, since life is clearly not chaotic enough, I chosen to finally take the terrifying plunge of beginning the editing career that I meant to start over a decade ago.
