It's taken me much longer to actually sit down and write this post than I've wanted. However, life in the summertime with small children often has other plans for me.
Earlier this year, I virtually met a wonderful group of women and joined their blogging collaboration over at
Respectfully Connected. At the time, I was identifying as Autistic, but had not pursued a formal diagnosis. For various reasons, I waited until this summer to seek a professional evaluation.
Although I wasn't thrilled with my overall experience at the clinic I chose, I feel content with the end result. I knew I was Autistic. Knew it with every fiber of my being. Even feeling this way, as the appointments got closer, and subsequently did not proceed as I'd expected, I had a sense of panic set in.
What if? What if I'm not Autistic enough for the test to pick up? What if I made too much eye contact during the appointment? What if...? I think, as a society, it has become so ingrained that we as individuals are incapable of knowing better than the professionals. Or perhaps that is more so the idea that I was raised with. Even though I knew deep down that I was Autistic, I still desperately wanted that "real" approval. It felt, and still feels that society would not accept me as Autistic without the formal diagnosis of an Allistic professional. The irony has not been lost on me.
My formal diagnosis is Autistic with social anxiety, ADHD and gifted. The first two were not a surprise to me at all as social situations have always been difficult and still are a struggle as an adult. I was completely shocked at the ADHD and gifted labels. ADHD has never been on my radar, so it's something that I know very little about. A quick Google search told me how terrible my life must be because of it and if it hadn't already destroyed my marriage, that was soon to come. It feels uncomfortable for me to identify as gifted, I think in large part because there is this generally accepted idea in society that it's such a great thing to have a gifted child/be gifted. Giftedness is one of the few neurological differences that is treated as a good trait, seen positively overall, and even to some, as something you can work hard enough at to achieve.
It's been a month since my diagnosis, and I am still struggling to accept and own the gifted label. As a child, I was not the smart one. My sibling was. I was good at sports. School was not fun for many reasons and I struggled academically. There were certain subjects that I did excel at but if it was something I had no interest in, forget it. My effort was minimal and I had little patience if I was not being taught in a way that made sense to me. University was a bit better as I could finally hone in on my passion but there are, of course, degree requirements outside of the chosen major and some of those were still a struggle. I didn't graduate college with honors, although I did well enough by most standards I suppose. I don't know if I'll ever make peace with this. My small circle of friends consists of gifted adults. I still feel a bit intimidated by some of them, intellectually. I think part of the reason it's hard for me to accept, is that I don't have a highly specialized talent or skill. I'm not a savant. I'm not good at math. I'm a voracious reader, and probably read a few hundred books a year. That doesn't seem like a big deal to me though. If time and life circumstances permitted, I could read a few books a day. I speak three languages, but so what? I guess what it will come down to in the end, is working through my own prejudices of what a gifted person "should" be and also processing through a lifetime of feeling like I was never the smart one in my family of origin. Parents, take heed. Labels, when used appropriately and accurately can be incredibly liberating. Thrown around carelessly, they can weigh one down for a lifetime.
Learning more about ADHD, I am seeing how it fits who I am. It's so incredibly wonderful to have a name for everything. To attach a name to these traits, to know that there are others out there who do exactly the same things as me because we share a neurology is so incredibly liberating and comforting. I remember as a teenager feeling so alone- don't all teenagers? - and worrying that I belonged in a hospital, because surely, no one "normal" felt the same way I did. There couldn't possibly have been others out there like me. To learn, as an adult, that not only is there absolutely nothing wrong with me, but these traits have recognized names, and are all part of the neurodiversity of our species is absolutely incredible. I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders.