The Little Girl with ADHD: Owning Your Narrative
There once was a little girl who was filled with wonder. She loved animals and art and giggling. She felt her dog, Riley, understood her without having to speak a single word and it was magic. She had an older sister who was her biggest role model.
Her parents supported her when they started noticing it was taking her longer to read than her sister. Her teacher told her parents “some kids are just smarter than others,” but her parents knew better. They were perplexed and puzzled by how the teacher couldn’t see how smart and curious this little girl was. The little girl was sad that she couldn’t read like her sister could.
Her parents took her to a foreign world where she sat in an office and did worksheets that made her brain hurt every week. Her parents would tell her that she was going to this place because her brain was wired differently than other people’s and it was okay. That she was creative and brilliant, but some things were going to be harder for her and she would need to work a little extra to make up for it.
Sometimes the extra work was fun, she would have to read to her dog or she would bounce on an exercise ball to practice spelling words. Sometimes she would get so frustrated that it seemed like she had to work so hard to just have a normal brain that she would well up like a big balloon until it popped and would cry until she felt she didn’t have any water left in her body.
All the while, her family was beside her, getting her the “out of school” support she needed. Being patient with her weaknesses, praising her for her strengths, making her feel normal and loved.
Socially, she was thoughtful and observant. She could tell when someone needed a kind word, a hug, or just a smile. She could tell when someone was being left out and that one hurt. She felt things deeply. Good or bad it did not make a difference.
When she was a little older, she realized that her brain being wired in a different way actually meant she had ADHD. When she had this revelation, she was shocked. All the kids that had THAT were troublemakers, spacey, impulsive. They were people she did not want to be. So, she held onto that fact like a secret. She worked even harder to change how her brain worked. Wishing with every bit of her being that she could just fix it, so she wouldn’t have to work so hard to be normal. That she wouldn’t have to go to a different room for tests or need to use her “tricks” to stay focused.
She wanted to fit in; she wanted to be liked and have friends. But at the end of the day. It was exhausting. Life felt like a constant hidden battle. She felt anxious when she was about to speak. She wanted to make sure she didn’t blurt out something weird. She was frustrated when she had to go to therapy instead of hangout with a friend or play outside. She was sad that she wasn’t as good as her sister was at reading and math.
She developed incredible coping skills. She was known for being smart, for being a hardworker, being an athlete, and for being kind. While at times it was exhausting, she felt like all the work she had put in while she was growing up was worth it. But she still held onto the diagnosis like a secret.
She didn’t want others to expect less of her or think less of her because she had ADHD. She didn’t want the praise of “you’re so good at school, for someone with ADHD.” She wanted to just be “good at school.”
Then one day in high school, a teacher told the class that she, herself, had ADHD. The little girl, who had turned into a young woman by this point, was in awe. She could feel her chest well up. Could it really be? A teacher had ADHD and she was telling us? She wasn’t ashamed? She wasn’t hiding it?
This moment changed everything.
This little girl began declaring from the rooftops (or at least telling her close friends) that she, too, had ADHD. The little girl was met with the same kindness and love that her family had shown her over the years. She began to shake the shame and expectations that might have been placed on her. She felt free to be authentically herself.
What happened for the little girl after this? She grew up to not only graduate from college, but went on to graduate school. She got her dream job; helping other little girls and boys through their problems big and small. She wanted to give back and be a role model for all those who are told that something is wrong with them or they aren’t normal because after all, what is normal? And, really, who wants to be normal? So what if their brain is wired differently? It’s what makes them uniquely them.
This little girl is me.