Where My ADHD Baddies At?

I was recently diagnosed with ADHD at the age of 33. Apparently I was the last person to find out and this was breaking news to no one besides me. One or two of my loved ones looked at me incredulously and said, “No shit. You? Mister ‘I want to do everything all at the same time and somehow they’re all priorities?’”

It’s no secret that the pharmaceutical industry pulls the strings of our mental health like Geppetto. I’ve spoken many times about my long and storied history with what feels like every antidepressant under the sun—from Zoloft to Prozac to Lexapro to Wellbutrin—most often to no avail.

I was talking to my therapist when she asked if I’d ever taken the ADHD questionnaire. I hadn’t, but I was interested, especially after learning that people who don’t respond well to SSRIs for anxiety and depression sometimes find significant relief by treating ADHD instead.

So she gave me the questionnaire. It’s a series of scenarios where you’re asked to answer never, sometimes, often, or very often.

Do you ever feel the urge to leave public gatherings before everyone else?

Do your legs twitch when you’re sitting still?

Do you find yourself starting new things before finishing the old ones?

Unsurprisingly, my answer was “very often” to every single question. Apparently I’m operating at an elite ADHD grade level; my score was off the fucking charts.

Strangely enough, I was kind of proud. Some childish part of me felt like I’d passed the test with flying colors. But more importantly, I’ve also been surprised by how many adults in my life have responded by saying, “Yeah... me too.” So many people have told me they were diagnosed later in life and eventually prescribed medication. Part of me feels like if everybody has ADHD, then maybe nobody has ADHD. Maybe what we’re describing is just a perfectly ordinary part of being human.

Yet after a few weeks on my covertly acquired Adderall prescription—like a college kid buying pills on campus from Kreayshawn—I have to admit I’ve noticed significant changes in my attention.

Depression often feels like an inability to direct your attention away from the negative. It’s not simply sadness; it’s an obsessive fixation on perceived problems, failures, fears, regrets, or imagined futures. That’s why I’ve always believed meditation and mindfulness are the closest thing to a true cure for depression; meditation is nothing more than repeatedly bringing your attention back to the present moment. Most of my suffering lives in either the past or the future.

Recently I’ve been repeating an affirmation:“Bless the past. Bless the future. Live fully in the now.” Since treating what is apparently ADHD, I’ve caught myself several times beginning to spiral into unnecessary mental pursuits and simply...redirecting my attention elsewhere. Because most of the time, the now actually isn’t so bad. Let me tell you about some times when most people would have thought it was terrible.