I want to share with you a picture of how ADHD impacts my life. Before I do so, let me offer you some context.

I was diagnosed with ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) at the not-so-tender age of forty-three. I cried a lot that day. Not out of sadness but out of relief. I finally had an explanation for the contradictions of my own existence. On the one hand, I was capable of monumental achievements like earning a master’s degree, but on the other hand, I struggled with basic life tasks like remembering to eat lunch or getting to bed before 1:00 a.m. I felt shame about this struggle. I tried all I could to better myself, but no self-help books or organizational programs ever worked for me. With each new failure to change, my shame grew, leading to a deep sense of inadequacy. This was heightened during the pandemic, when I had to share a home office with my wonderful husband, Erik.

Every day, he would be awake, caffeinated, showered, and well into his workday before I even had the energy to enter the office and turn on my computer. And after that, it would still take an hour or more before I could start being productive. As he worked steadily in the background, I would weave in and out of focus, fighting to stay on task. The contrast between us didn’t stop at work. He breezed through the same household chores I slogged through. When it was his week to do laundry, he would have everything washed, dried, folded, and put away in a matter of hours. I would start on Thursday and might be done on Sunday. Measuring myself against him day after day only made me feel worse about myself. I was beating myself up more than ever, angrily questioning, What is wrong with me? But my anger slowly turned to curiosity: What if there actually is something wrong with me?

Thoughts of the possibility of me having ADHD had been planted in my head before this point, when a relative of mine was diagnosed with it. This news baffled me because she was an adult. As I understood it, ADHD was a childhood disorder, something used to describe hyperactive little boys. What did it mean for an adult to have this? Was there a chance I could? These questions lingered in the back of my mind until they were unexpectedly brought to the forefront as I binge-watched the sitcom Mom during those long pandemic nights.

On Mom, the character Bonnie Plunkett, played by the incomparable Allison Janey, is diagnosed with ADD (a now-outdated term for a subtype of ADHD). Several episodes were devoted to her coming to terms with her later-in-life diagnosis. As this storyline unfolded and her disorder was discussed, all I could think was Why does it feel like they’re talking about me? Not long after, I reached out to my doctor. My diagnosis followed.

After taking in the diagnosis, I started sharing the news of it with others. I was not prepared for how difficult it would be to explain ADHD. With so many misconceptions out there about the disorder, I almost always had to start at square one. I also discovered that any textbook definition I gave did little to show how big an impact ADHD makes. Everyone experiences moments of inattentiveness, impulsivity, and hyperactivity (the main challenges of ADHD), but those of us with ADHD experience them excessively and pervasively. I learned I needed to paint the picture by sharing examples of how ADHD shows up my life.

I might start by telling of how, in a busy restaurant, my brain does not easily drown out the conversation happening two tables over, the music playing overhead, the clatter of dishes in the kitchen, the opening and closing of the main entrance doors, or the sound of someone (rudely) watching videos on their phone. My mind tries to pay attention to everything, everywhere, all at once (my apologies to Michelle Yeoh).

I could then add to the picture by sharing stories from the other extreme: hyperfocus. Without warning, my mind will have me focusing so intently on what I am doing I become unaware of everything else. An example of this is the time I was so engrossed in a book I was reading on my tablet that I didn’t even notice the power in my apartment had gone out and I had been sitting in the dark for almost an hour.

Examples of my ADHD at work are numerous: the time I sat for half an hour with only one sock on because I got distracted before putting on my other sock, the time I started responding to email but ended up digging into the history of how the Beach Boys recorded a song written by the infamous cult leader Charles Manson, the many times I couldn’t find my wallet because I left it sitting on the passenger seat of my car overnight, just begging to be stolen.

Moments like these add up, resulting in larger life ramifications. ADHD limited my work options. In my twenties, as I sought to forge a career path, I quickly learned how incapable I was of functioning in a 9–5 job. As soon as I got into one, I wanted out. I found the only reliable way I could work was at home on my own schedule. Out of necessity, I settled into freelancing. I wonder what jobs I might have taken had I known then how to work with my ADHD instead of around it.

The more I talked about my ADHD, the more I saw how it showed up in my daily life. As an exercise, I began writing a record of times my actions were driven by ADHD. These were short one-liners I wrote as I went about my day. As the number of notes grew, I noticed that, collectively, they showed the pervasive nature of ADHD. After that, I began to write and edit these notes with intention, calling them “My ADHDisms.”

Throughout this month—ADHD Awareness Month—I will share some of these in the hope of demonstrating the real impact of this disorder. Some tell of repeated struggles I face, others of specific events caused by my ADHD. As I share these and the bigger picture forms, I welcome respectful comments and questions. I will do my best to address them as they come. And if in tracking this project you start to wonder why the posts feel like they are talking about you, you might want to check out the resource links on this website.

With love, gratitude, and—oh, look! A squirrel!

Vinnie Kinsella