But the initial intake meeting with a therapist in the psychiatry department kind of threw me a little.
Talking with the therapist, we went over all the ways I've learned to compensate: making lists, setting timers and reminders, using routines and patterns, handling tasks in the moment rather than delaying them until later (when they'll get forgotten), planning ahead (sometimes excessively), double-checking my work almost constantly, etc.
After going over all this, and as we're getting ready to leave, I made a comment like, "But, even with all this, I'm generally content and happy."
She kind of smiled at me and said, "Well, other than the constant anxiety and self doubt, right?"
I looked at her questioningly, and she stopped walking and rattled off half a dozen things I'd just said - but pointed out how almost all of them involve being unsure of myself or assuming that I'm going to make errors or screw up. "You're compensating well, but you're still compensating. That has to take its toll over time." She just watched me a moment, and then said, "... and you never even realized that was there, did you?"
"No," I replied, "I didn't. But you're right."
One of my favorite quotes comes from the play "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead":
All your life you live so close to truth, it becomes a permanent blur in the corner of your eye, and when something nudges it into outline it is like being ambushed by a grotesque.I know people who are wracked with self-doubt. I know people who have massive cases of imposter syndrome. I know folks for whom depression is a day-to-day struggle. Whenever I think of anxiety or self-doubt, I think about these people.
But the truth is, she's right. My reason for seeking out the new diagnosis, for making it official, is (and I told her this) because I want to have every possible tool at my disposal for succeeding in school. It's important to me this time, far more than I realized until a few weeks ago - and to be frank, there's a part of me that is absolutely terrified at screwing up again.
I've openly told people that I'm keeping the fact of attending school under wraps because I don't know if I'll keep at it or make it through: I dropped out once, so while I think things have changed significantly, I have to accept the possibility that I'll blow it again this time for whatever reason. That *is* a statement of self-doubt - couched in subtler or sardonic terms, perhaps, but it's there.
And it runs far, far deeper than I think I've ever admitted to myself. I mean, I know what I'm capable of. I have a healthy ego (some would say too healthy) about such things. But at the same time, there's this underlying bit that knows everything could go off the rails and the constant worry that today' the day it'll happen.
It's analogous to being gay. Coming out isn't a one-time event - it's something we do every time we meet a new coworker or friend-of-a-friend or vendor or anyone. We assess the situation, decide whether or not it's important or a risk (or both), weigh it all, and then act. For some of us lucky enough to be in progressive areas, it's something we do almost instinctively at this point, much like I my ADHD compensations are largely automatic.
But it's still there, and it's still this low-level anxiety. It's one I'm aware of - it's part of why I love vacationing at gay resorts, and it's something I talk about with people all the time as an example of (lack of) privilege.
The ADHD aspect, though, is something I was never really aware of. I can't deny it, nor do I know that there's anything I can do to stop it. It's a fact of who I am. But it's something to think about, and frankly I think it affects my life far more than being gay.
It's not often someone broadsides me like that.
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