I first began to suspect I had ADHD when I was a freshman at Berkeley after months of feeling academically inadequate—not so much my intellectual capacity, but rather my study and work habits as well as organizational skills. In my second semester, I did a quick search to see how to get an ADD diagnosis, but I quickly dismissed the idea for two reasons:
1. All my freshman peers purported to have ADD/ADHD because they too were having problems getting stuff done. It was so commonly thrown out that I thought I was simply overreacting like they were.
2. If diagnosed with ADHD, I would have been labeled as a disabled student, and at the time I was not strong enough to avoid succumbing to stigma.
So I didn't go through with it. The semesters passed, and despite all my internal efforts, I could not for the life of me participate in discussions in a consistently active manner, and I was never able to focus or be organized: I very rarely read any of my assigned texts; even when I tried to start early, I routinely left writing my papers or studying for finals or midterms to the last minute; my room and my backpack were—excuse me—have always been huge messes; I could not keep a routine, and whenever I—randomly—took the initiative to create lists or schedules to follow, my efforts were ultimately futile because I never seemed to be able to follow them, a pattern I've had since at least the 6th grade.
1. All my freshman peers purported to have ADD/ADHD because they too were having problems getting stuff done. It was so commonly thrown out that I thought I was simply overreacting like they were.
2. If diagnosed with ADHD, I would have been labeled as a disabled student, and at the time I was not strong enough to avoid succumbing to stigma.
So I didn't go through with it. The semesters passed, and despite all my internal efforts, I could not for the life of me participate in discussions in a consistently active manner, and I was never able to focus or be organized: I very rarely read any of my assigned texts; even when I tried to start early, I routinely left writing my papers or studying for finals or midterms to the last minute; my room and my backpack were—excuse me—have always been huge messes; I could not keep a routine, and whenever I—randomly—took the initiative to create lists or schedules to follow, my efforts were ultimately futile because I never seemed to be able to follow them, a pattern I've had since at least the 6th grade.
Despite all that, nevertheless, I rarely failed to produce an A- or B+ in my papers and classes—and I can thank my natural ability to critically think for that. However, what happened in my last semester at Berkeley, my busiest ever, was the final straw.
That semester I founded U.S.E.U. at my campus (and participated in a week-long delegation to El Salvador), had a full courseload, and I had to write my required History thesis. Yes, in ONE SEMESTER, you have to propose, refine and narrow a topic, write, revise, revise, revise, and produce a final 30-50 page version - in ONE semester. Granted, the department erred in designing the thesis seminar to be one semester in length, in not offering more research methods courses, and in not strongly cautioning majors to take it BEFORE their last semester; I still should have been able to do execute a fine thesis. I know I had the potential even as busy as I was, but I just couldn’t.
My seminar advisor approached me after the History department commencement ceremony in May 2009, and with a very concerned and caring expression on her face, and asked me, “Brian, what happened?” before going onto praising me (if I remember correctly, she said I was her favorite student). Looking back, I excelled in my assignments (They were all very short), and I did set up blocks of time to focus only on my writing (but I never got around to sit down at those scheduled times). But I failed to deliver, frankly, every step of the way; in fact, every step of the way ever since I can remember.
I received the lowest grade I had ever gotten at Berkeley: a C-, meaning I probably flunked my thesis--my SENIOR THESIS that was supposed to be the hallmark of my undergraduate career. But I actually felt very calm, soothed, and relieved because, deep inside, it corroborated something I’d always known on a subconscious level: something was wrong.
I moved back home to L.A. a few weeks after graduation. The immediate post-graduation months were filled with depression, self-doubt and lethargy, particularly because I graduated in the country's worst economic situation since the Great Depression. But I did do a lot to help myself move forward spiritually, emotionally and mentally. One of the most important things I learned in that time was that we ourselves are oftentimes our worst enemy, and so I strived to overcome my excuse-making that hindered me a lot. But soon I discovered that that wasn't sufficient, I still felt restrained.
Fast forward to August 2010: Browsing through Craigslist job ads, I found an opportunity to participate in a clinical study for new ADHD medication. I applied and shortly after I received a call from a research assistant, who was screening me to determine whether I was worthy enough for an in-person interview. I made the cut.
I thought to myself "This is it." At first I had no intention of going through with the study. But then I suddenly became curious to participate when I realized that all my life I avoided doing things that seemed daunting, and settled instead for the easy route, the sidelines, if you will.
I got to the office in Beverly Hills, and was called in for a pre-interview, where they asked me questions about my physical, emotional, and mental health history. Then I was called to be interviewed by the doctor, who said to me "Brian, because of what you've been through [I survived a quadruple homicide], you're a set up for mood and anxiety disorders, so it might be a little difficult to see whether you have ADHD symptoms." I thought to myself, “Oh, wow, uh thanks?"
I moved back home to L.A. a few weeks after graduation. The immediate post-graduation months were filled with depression, self-doubt and lethargy, particularly because I graduated in the country's worst economic situation since the Great Depression. But I did do a lot to help myself move forward spiritually, emotionally and mentally. One of the most important things I learned in that time was that we ourselves are oftentimes our worst enemy, and so I strived to overcome my excuse-making that hindered me a lot. But soon I discovered that that wasn't sufficient, I still felt restrained.
Fast forward to August 2010: Browsing through Craigslist job ads, I found an opportunity to participate in a clinical study for new ADHD medication. I applied and shortly after I received a call from a research assistant, who was screening me to determine whether I was worthy enough for an in-person interview. I made the cut.
I thought to myself "This is it." At first I had no intention of going through with the study. But then I suddenly became curious to participate when I realized that all my life I avoided doing things that seemed daunting, and settled instead for the easy route, the sidelines, if you will.
I got to the office in Beverly Hills, and was called in for a pre-interview, where they asked me questions about my physical, emotional, and mental health history. Then I was called to be interviewed by the doctor, who said to me "Brian, because of what you've been through [I survived a quadruple homicide], you're a set up for mood and anxiety disorders, so it might be a little difficult to see whether you have ADHD symptoms." I thought to myself, “Oh, wow, uh thanks?"
After being at the office for a little over 4 hours, I finished my interview with the psychologist, and I got a chance to ask the research assistant "So does the doctor think I have it?" She said to me "The doctor thinks you have ADHD." Oh, joy, oh, joy, oh joy! I felt an immediate sensation of relief and self-understanding come through me.
After some thinking, I decided to not participate in the study before my next appointment. Of course that meant not getting to have cognitive tests run on me to see how bad it was, that would’ve been extremely helpful and convenient because they're probably exhorbitantly expensive, but I can live with my decision.
It was definitely a huge load off of my back to hear those words, and to finally feel like I can understand that all my quirks and oddities, and all those times I wanted to do more in my endeavors, but couldn't, could finally have an explanation. I still need a second opinion, but I'm very confident that this unofficial diagnosis is the real thing.
At that moment and now, I felt and feel like Dorothy from the Golden Girls did when she found out she had Chronic Fatigue Syndrome : in control and ready to move forward in my life. Very optimistic, let's see if you can handle me, world :)
