Things I Wish I Had Known #10: I'm Listening?

This essay may be the first time I've written something non-technical and non-legal since I finished my master’s degree in 2014. I've always had a deep-rooted interest in making sure people don't repeat my mistakes as long as I can remember, or at least, I try to when my head is in the game enough to actually notice. I am also writing this as a result of years, most of my life actually, of different people from teachers to friends to my wife telling me that I needed to see a professional because I exhibited quite a few ADHD symptoms. Most importantly though, I am writing this because, aside from my wife’s advice, one of the most significant factors in my finally seeking professional help was reading about others who were experiencing the same thoughts and feelings as myself. I spent a long time feeling like I just needed to make myself focus or work on self discipline. When I repeatedly failed, I felt like an outcast. When I finally realized that I was far from alone, I wasn’t a screwup, and that I needed to talk to someone, I felt like a new person. My job performance improved dramatically, my marriage improved dramatically, and ability to be a halfway decent father has (hopefully) improved dramatically. In other words, I am writing this essay for that person or persons out there who has yet to experience that eureka moment. Maybe, just maybe, this writing will help catalyze it. Even more ideally, you’ll experience this moment when you are younger than your mid-30s as I was, and you won’t have to look back on quite as many memories with a tinge of regret because you realized late that you could have been happier, more confident, and less anxiety prone. You won’t repeat my mistakes.

As such, I want to write a little about my experiences with mental health. Looking back over my life, I should have been diagnosed with ADHD long ago. At least as far back as second grade, I can remember being lectured by teachers and my parents repeatedly for not paying attention. I remember my own frustration with myself when I felt like I couldn’t feel anything at times because I could never focus on anything for long enough. I was very impulsive and very socially inept. It both made me an easy target to get picked on, and I’m sure was frustrating to others since I was mostly unable to function in a team environment. I constantly spaced out at school. I could never focus unless it was a topic I was very interested in because it jolted my body with that hit of dopamine or serotonin or whatever it was that would then cause to me to then either hyper-fixate on it or use it as a sort of mental crutch for ignoring the reality of the world around me. I couldn't focus on most things for long periods of time, whether it was organizing groceries at the store I worked at when I was in high school or my chemistry homework or most things in between. My fixations and my idea of what I stayed fixated on stayed largely within my head as well. Whenever things became too real, I’d go back into the confines of my head and mentally withdraw to where it was safe and I could control the situation. This had some very significant side effects as well, since it was easy to become a legend in my own mind, and unless it was something I was actually good at, it was tough to stay engaged in. Since I struggled with maintaining commitments, I felt like I was mediocre, sometimes an outright failure, in both my professional life and personal life. It led to moodiness, depression, lack of self-confidence, and anxiety to name a few.

You might, or might not, ask how I mitigated all of this. I’m a middle-class, cis white male, who was able to bail himself out financially several times thanks to a decent inheritance from his grandparents, so privilege has definitely played into it. I became pretty good at deluding myself into thinking I didn’t have a problem, that others were the ones with the problem, or that I had a problem but I just needed to pull myself up by the proverbial bootstraps. I self-medicated with caffeine, then added alcohol to the mix. Then I joined the military. Then I got big into running. Ultimately however, it threatened to implode my life after I became a husband and father, and I inherited a significantly larger amount of responsibilities at work. I finally started listening to my wife’s advice and sought help.

The TL;DR [too long; didn’t read] of my story is this: seeking professional help and finding a medication has helped me dramatically. It has had the unfortunate side effect of causing me to look back on some of my life with regret at how much more enjoyable and/or successful life could have been at times. While this has been painful, it has also resulted in a much deeper appreciation for those that have stuck beside me even when I was at most obnoxious and distant. It’s been incredibly humbling to think about everyone that has loved me in spite of how insecure, oblivious, and wrapped up in myself that I could, and still can be, times. It’s definitely inspired me to be a better person, and to keep trying even when I fail. It has made me even more grateful and appreciative of my wife. This, I hope, is the most important takeaway from my writing here, and I sincerely hope it helps anyone who reads this and identifies even a little bit with it. Know that you aren’t alone. Know that help is out there. Most importantly, know that you are loved.

Submitted by Anonymous