Page 8 of Rewriting the Story

I’ve gone my entire life, all twenty-five years of it, without being properly diagnosed with Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder, or ADHD. It explains a lot, looking back on my childhood and who I grew up to be. I can’t believe it took this long to realize something was chemically wrong with my brain, rather than just thinking I was wired this way on purpose.

Obviously, this doesn't excuse all the stupid decisions I’ve made, but it’s helped me make better sense of them. I’ve been working with Dr. Elyse since the beginning of the year, and the new routine and medication she has me on has worked wonders.

It took a lot of work to get to who I am now, but I’m thankful I didn't give up on myself how I wanted to so many times.

Turbulence jerks me around in my seat, and I grab the handle, my nerves taking over. I’m good at flying, but I’m far more nervous about the landing than I am being up here.

I’m going back to Virginia for good. I’m going back to fix what I broke with the people I love. This is the beginning of my fresh start—if I can even call it that. When I left, I was determined to climb the ladder at my job and find success. I thought that would solve all my problems—by proving my parents wrong and showing them I can be successful.

The only thing that really happened in England was the wake up call I got when I realized my life was going nowhere. I left everything good and beautiful back here, breaking the hearts of everyone I loved.

But Dr. Elyse keeps reminding me part of the reason that happened was because I went so long undiagnosed. It threw me for a loop when she told me I have ADHD, and now that I’m medicated, I feel a lot more in control of my choices. The voice is still in the back of my mind, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m making conscious decisions, not impulsive ones.

My parents used to call me unmotivated. Lazy was thrown around more times than I can count, but it turns out, that’s the exact opposite of who I am. My brain is just a little different, and Dr. Elyse and I spent a lot of time drilling the word lazy out of my brain.

My decision to come to London was impulsive. I was doing what I always did—running when things got too overwhelming. I tend to bolt when people get close to me, and I thought that was just who I was as aperson. I thought I was the daughter destined to watch my family from afar, needing to be away to be able to breathe.

That’s not the case at all. Even though my relationship with my family is still strained, maybe one day, if I choose to reconnect with them, I can explain all of this. That’s not in the cards for me right now, though. Now, I have friendships to mend and actions to take accountability for.

I doubt my parents would be open to a conversation like that anyway. My family was never one to talk about emotions, and I think the same would go for topics like my mental health. I didn't realize it at the time, but the way my family went about deeper conversations made me suppress my emotions. I was never encouraged to talk about the things that haunted me in the middle of the night, or that I could never turn my brain off when I tried to sleep. I could never tell them I’m not lazy; in fact, I always felt like I was trying ten times harder than classmates to do the same work.

My parents taught me how to give just enough and never too much in that regard, and I’ve spent the past few months trying to undo years of suppressing my emotions.

Paired with the fact that nobody ever really tried to get to know me, so I never let them, my friendships fizzled out most of the time. I was called flaky by more than one person growing up. The signs were always there, but my parents, teachers, and me specifically didn't read them.

In a way, I get it. I always presented as odd to most people. I laugh at things I shouldn't laugh at, and most of the time, when I leave a room, it's with some weird anecdote that doesn't make sense. I always thought nobody ever really understood my sense of humor, understoodme.

Until I met Paige.

Paige, my randomly assigned freshman year roommate. Paige, the girl who broke down every wall I built up. I remember that night as if it were yesterday. Sometimes, I wish I could live in the memories and nostalgia, but part of life is about growth, and I can’t discount what I’ve beenworking on while in London. That wouldn't be fair to past me, who wondered if there was something rotten inside her.

Paige had a panic attack the first night we were at school. We barely knew each other, despite having gone to most of the freshman activities that day together. I’ve never slept properly—something I once thought was just a quirk, but instead turned out to be because of my brain—and she had a bad nightmare I woke her out of. She was disoriented and terrified, her hands curled around herself, as if she was afraid someone was going to get her.

She told me all about her nightmares that night. It was two in the morning, and neither of us wanted to sleep, so we spent the entire night talking, and for the first time, I felt like I had found someone who understood me. She would tell a story, and I would listen, and then the craziest thing would happen. Whenever it was my turn to tell a story, she wouldactuallylisten to me. I don’t know how I could tell, but just by the look in her eyes, I knew she actually cared about what I was saying. I had never had that in someone before. I had never had someone who wanted to hear about the silly thoughts I thought I had. Eventually, I started giving her small bits of the thoughts that often kept me up at night, and she would listen to those too, telling me it was okay to feel how I was.

She was the first person who ever wanted to actually hear those thoughts, and she never judged me. She just listened. From that night on, we were inseparable. I kept giving her pieces of myself, Ella too, and eventually, when Hads joined our group, it got easier to open up. Not fully, but more than I ever had before.

Those three girls knew me. Better yet, they knew me and they accepted me. They didn't mind that I would disappear sometimes, my thoughts often so overwhelming that I had to take breaks from the world and realign myself. They always knew I would come back. They trustedme, loved me when nobody else would, and accepted every flawed and cracked part of me.

And in return, I ruined it, but that’s the entire reason I’m coming back. I’m going to fix what I ruined and prove to the people I love that I’m not going to run again. I’m not going to let my stupid brain ruin some of the best relationships I’ve ever had just because it operates a bit differently.

I’m headed back for good, not just for Paige’s wedding. Nobody knows I’ll be back permanently, and I intend to keep it that way until I can prove to the people I love I’m serious about staying.

I have a lot of hard conversations coming—I know that. I’m as prepared as I can be for this, and while I am nervous about telling them about my diagnosis, I want to make it clear I’m not just blaming that for what I did to them.

It was still me, but it also didn't help the decisions I made when I did. I’m still at fault, but I’m also taking the proper steps to fix what I broke.

That’s growth if I’ve ever seen it.

I’m sure the girls are assuming I’ll be back for this two-week wedding celebration and then I’ll ghost and never speak to them again, but that’s not the case.

I’m coming back to prove I can stick around.

I don’t regret the time I spent in London. In fact, I’ll always look back on it as a decision that helped me in the long run. Not only did I discover so much about myself, but it also drove me to finally reach a place where I feel okay about myself and the life I’ve lived.

London was merely a chapter of the overall story of my life, and though struggles came with it, I will always be grateful for it.

Coming back to Virginia does have me a bit on edge, like I knew it would. It’s going to be terrifying seeing these girls again, knowing how they feel about me. I’m surprised the save the date for Paige’s wedding even showed up in January when I was spiraling. I didn't answer thatone—I had bigger things to worry about. When the invitation showed up in July, I spent an entire session talking to Dr. Elyse about the pros and cons of going back. Not only would it be a major disruption to my routine, but I didn't want to repeat the same behaviors.

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