Who I am and why I’m writing this (or, my story in a nutshell)

Hi there, I’m Stacy. 

I’m a 46-year-old woman living on the west coast of Canada (sweet!). I work as a journalist (yes, we still exist) and recently got my bachelor’s degree in creative writing after returning to school at 38. 

I don’t have kids, but I’m dog-mom to literally the best dog that ever was and ever will be. I’m a loyal friend, a sister who tries to be nice to two older brothers (need I say more), and a daughter who just tries, period.

I’m a dancer at heart (in my kitchen) and a nature-lover, and I’m obsessed with music, movies and books; I also draw and paint and consider myself an artist. I’m smart, I work hard and I’m proud of what I do. I’m relatively happy, pretty stable, and making more money now than I ever have in my life. 

I guess you could say that things are going pretty good for me!

I’m so happy for you, you might be thinking. What’s your point?

I’m getting there! 

calm on the surface, chaos below (otherwise known as masking)

The the thing is, I worked really fucking hard to get where I am now.

Like, really fucking hard. It took me twenty years to finally get my bachelor’s degree after dropping out of college the first time around (and the second and third time, but that’s a story for another day). And that salary I just humble-bragged about? That’s because I finally got the first “real job” (a job that pays me well to do what I’m actually good at) I’ve ever had, after years of false starts and quitting jobs and failing at being a freelancer.

You know that analogy about how swans look graceful and calm on the surface, but underneath it’s absolute chaos? That’s me, and if you’re reading this, it’s probably you, too. Calm on the surface, chaos below. 

This is the curse of the undiagnosed neurodivergent adult and especially undiagnosed neurodivergent women: we’re really, really good at appearing okay. So good, in fact, that we may have fucked up our entire lives because of it; for me, it’s been pretty much strugglebus central, up until just a few years ago.

So, why am I only figuring my life out now, at 46? Why do I feel like I’m just starting out on my career, even though I’ve been working my ass off at it for over a decade (after working my ass off at other various “careers” before that)?

Why, although I’m an intelligent person with an over-the-top work ethic, good ideas and ambition, do I still have almost no savings (oh who am I kidding—NO savings)? Why am I still renting when most of my peers are on their second or third homes by now? Why am I still sent into a panic at the very thought of unexpected costs like a car repair or a dental procedure? 

Oh, and while we’re at it: why do my relationships always crash and burn? Why have I been in so many topsy-turvy, toxic, or just plain abusive relationships over the years? Why have I struggled to control my emotions, pushing away so many good people in the process?

Am I just a fucked up, shitty person all around?

For a really long time, I genuinely thought that I was. But no, I’m not, and neither are you. 

The answer is……..

because ADHD!

The answer, simply, is because ADHD. But it doesn’t stop there. 

I have ADHD (and self-diagnosed autism), but I didn’t know it until just a few years ago. I’ve lived most of my adult life in a fog of not understanding—of not even being aware of—my own very real, biological, medical limitations. I always just thought I was, you know, kind of stupid. Why would I have thought any different?

I was diagnosed out of the blue when I was 42. I’d known for a long time that there was something very, very wrong with my mental health, but I never suspected ADHD. If anything I remember wishing I had ADHD — people with ADHD were quirky, funny and creative. They were artistic, they were the mad geniuses who directed movies and made interesting art and music…right? 

I thought of myself as the exact opposite of that: low energy, almost lethargic at times, grumpy, tired, antisocial…definitely not the super-social bounce-off-the walls-type that I associated with ADHD. 

I was just…bad at life. With me it was one crisis, one mistake, one failure after another. No matter how hard I tried to make things work, I could not seem to get it right. Way after everyone around me was married, having kids, moving along in their careers, travelling, doing all the things you’re supposed to do, I was still flailing, floating, drifting from one thing to the next. 

By the time I was thirty I’d had a million jobs, a million boyfriends, a million different living situations - I just moved from thing to thing and place to place. My pattern was I’d try something new - be it a job, a person, a place - and it would be okay for awhile, but then it wouldn’t work out for one reason or another, and I’d find some way to burn it down and move on. I’d quit the job, or start being a shitty employee or fighting with coworkers until I got fired. I’d end the relationship. I’d skip rent and skip town. This was all subconscious - I thought I was doing what I had to do, and a lot of the time I was in survival mode. But I was repeatedly setting myself back and wrecking my own life. 

I tried so many times to get help, I told so many doctors and talked to so many counsellors trying to figure out why I always somehow ended up starting over. But nothing ever helped or stuck. I kept struggling on, believing more and more that I was meant to be a failure.

And then…I got diagnosed, and while I’d love to say that everything, you know, just got easier after that, it obviously didn’t. I still had a lot of shit to figure out. And that’s where we all land when we’re diagnosed late: we now know what the issue is. But we don’t know what to do about it…….

Read about the first step in figuring out how to have ADHD in my next post: MAKING SPACE