As an early Generation X’er (1965) with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), this basically meant I didn’t know I had ADHD. By my teenage years I had a background awareness that something was up; I struggled to stay on track at a decent school (though maybe not one suited to left field people) and couldn’t understand why, I often couldn’t focus when someone was talking to me and I started sliding into addictive behaviours to quell the anxiety caused by the condition. I still don’t really know if not knowing was a good thing or not. The positives of not knowing are that I just had to progressively work out how to regulate myself to prevent my chaotic life completely unravelling (despite the messy ride being exciting at times); the negatives are that I can’t help wondering if I couldn’t have been saved from a lot of needless suffering and mayhem if I’d known? Or where I would be now if I’d had support? There is no question that for me my life choices and outcomes have been defined by this condition.
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