Everybody Sees What You Didn't Do

I am 68 years old, but I can remember in 1st grade in the early 1950's working my butt off to do something and standing there afterwards proud of my efforts. Then, someone, usually a nun, since I went to Catholic school, told me about all the things I HAD NOT done.

I would clean a room and then find out that it was still filthy. I would finish a book report and find out that I had left out all kinds of important things.

Even in my 40's, in the army, I would work until I was about to drop to do something well, and then be told about several things I had left undone.

It seemed I could never satisfy anyone, and, one of the reasons seemed to be that I did not see what others saw. I would be told to clean up a room, for example, and stare at it for several minutes trying to figure out what was wrong that needed to be changed! Or, if it was bad enough to get through to my brain, stand there and feel my brain shutting down due to an inability to understand how or where to start.

Things became worse when I already had something on my mind. I spent part of my life in Lost in Space robot mode, my brain screaming, "Overload! Overload! Overload!"

I don't know how to convey to people without ADHD what it is like to have it. I don't know how to convey how painful it is to recognize, day after day, that you have once again screwed up something very simple.

Even those who care about you and realize that you have this problem consider it to be just an annoyance to you, not realizing that, for some, at least, it is a constant and painful thing, like some crippling childhood disease which you never grew out of.

I don't want to compare myself to someone who has lost a limb, but it allows me to make an analogy. Having ADHD, for me, is a bit like losing that limb and having to stand and watch others play because I don't have a wheelchair or crutch.