Kellen Story's Story: The ADHD in me

It’s ADHD and Learning Disability Awareness Month, where we celebrate the 1 in 5 who learn differently, raise awareness, and challenge the stigma surrounding learning differences. As a part of working at The Neurodiversity Alliance, I love to share my ND story and how I’m impacted daily by my disabilities.

?I’m well aware LinkedIn is full of posts regaling you with stories about impact and individuality, so let me join in and talk about my journey and discuss my own development and education, and what a typical day may look like for someone with ADHD and other disabilities. My hope for your takeaway from this story is not one of pity or that I’m self-loathing, but rather painting a picture for the many of us who are impacted daily, whether diagnosed or not. If you’ve never been diagnosed or have always wondered if you may have an invisible disability (ie, learning disability, ADHD, anxiety, etc), this post is for you!

Yes, October is LD Awareness and ADHD month. But for me, ADHD month is every month, every week, and every day. There are common feelings surrounding ADHD that often encompass themes of accident-prone whimsicalness, spaciness, and other terms that drain the severity out of any medical terminology. You probably know someone without ADHD who may say “Oh that’s just my ADHD!” when they forget something or otherwise act in a way that’s not their typical self. People oftentimes gloss over ADHD as if it were a common cold, acting in a way that addresses the condition as a minor inconvenience, and not a “real” ailment or disability.

I never thought about ADHD as a child, teenager, or when I went to college. This was because I thought everyone felt this way. I thought everyone had severe struggles with concentrating in class. I thought everyone had severe hyperfixations on certain topics for short periods of time. I thought everyone frequently had conversations with themselves about self-worth, deprecation, and consistently telling themself that whatever they were doing, they were doing it incorrectly.?

As a kid, I thought this was funny. I thought being hyperactive was normal. My second-grade teacher even put me in a chair with a seatbelt so I wouldn’t wander and bother others during lessons (this was the 90’s, so no red flags were ever raised about this, I guess?) I enjoyed the attention of others and often sought an audience to hear my incessant chatter about a nonsensical topic or create a myriad of characters that often mimicked the sounds and voices of others. (a friend once told me that when we made fun of each other, they couldn’t pinpoint a mannerism for me to poke fun at because all I did was mimic others’ mannerisms). This action was scratching an itch for me and still persists to this day. I can’t walk by a singing bird and NOT whistle along with it. If I hear anything related to a song lyric I’ve heard before, I will sing that song regardless of the situation or environment (much to the chagrin of my wife). I simply can’t help myself. As an adult, it’s not as abrasive as it once was, but it’s still kind of obnoxious and interfering.?

As I progressed through school, I didn’t seek any alternative to learning; I merely persevered as best I could through the scripted and normal ways education is taught in school. I didn’t realize there were other methodologies. I didn’t realize my brain worked differently, so I just adapted to what teachers prescribed for their lessons, regardless of my comfort level or understanding.

So, I asked lots of questions during class—LOTS of questions, especially in math, where I suffered severely. In eighth grade, after asking what might have been my fourth or fifth question of comprehension, my math teacher called me the “R” word. I laughed it off, and other classmates laughed as well. Unfortunately, this word was part of the common vernacular in middle school, so I didn’t think it would have an impact on me. What I learned from this incident was that I shouldn’t ask questions. It was better to just suffer in silence and realize that I was terrible at math, and that maybe I should just focus my energy on the classes I thrived in. So that’s what I did.?

When I got to college, I stayed away from anything related to math, and if encountered with math courses, I’d change my major. I ended up changing my major four times, finally focusing on wanting to be an educator with a focus on English (or more specifically since it was elementary education, language arts). At this point, I was a solid “B” student, as I still had not developed a sense of what learning styles worked best for me, still following the same pattern I had developed in K-12.?

What I DID succeed in was participating in college outside of the classroom. I attached myself to as many organizations as I possibly could. I was an RA. I was a founding father of a fraternity. I was on the E-board for an amazing alternative spring break program. I was on the cycling team. My (yet to be diagnosed) ADHD flourished with micro hyperfixations on multiple hobbies.

After college, I decided to to graduate school, where I finally found a preferred methodology for learning: total immersion of topics of interest. All of my assignments were projects or papers. No math. No exams. I received all A’s in all of my classes throughout my time in grad school, due mainly to identifying a learning style that worked for me and being able to take in information in a collaborative, and times asynchronous, manner.?

And then I graduated and began ‘real life’, or rather, dipped into the professional world for the first time. In my first role as a hall director, I was still the stereotype of ADHD: constantly peacocking, working a ton on multiple things at once, forgetting big deadlines, and always trying to be jovial. During this time in my life, what I didn’t realize what I was doing was masking.??

Following this role, I was introduced to the world of disability services in higher education. This was the lightbulb moment for me. In working with hundreds of students with accommodations, I soon realized that many of the students I was working with mirrored my exact experiences I had growing up. I never thought of myself as a person with a disability, and it was hard to fathom that this could possibly be the case. I ruminated with this thought for quite some time before taking any action.

Finally, after beginning to struggle with heavy amounts of administrative tasks day in and out, I sought help and after many tests and visits with various doctors: I was diagnosed with ADHD. I was not shocked or surprised, but felt validated for the first time in my life that my feelings were real. It was a revelation that I was thrilled to share with others.

As I have mentioned, I had been masking my entire life to cater to the outside world in terms of “oh it’s alright!” or “nah I’m just a forgetful person” or otherwise hiding my symptoms to not bother or intrude upon others (or at least in my mind, this was the case). Ultimately, this came to collapse when I entered a severe state of depression, and was formally diagnosed with anxiety and depression.

ADHD does not always go hand-in-hand with mental health, but an entire life of acting and masking to not show my shortcomings was too much. While it was not an enjoyable time in my life, the reward was knowing how to combat these feelings, learning about myself, and constantly improving myself to work through my daily struggles.

OK if you’ve read this far, you’ve received a sneak peek into my mind and writing style: a little random, maybe some side fodder about something I had not planned to write about, or repeating myself as to accentuate a point you have already probably received.

So now let me share info presented in a way that I prefer: bulletpoints. Short, concise, not a lot of reading.

Here is some insight into my daily life with ADHD, including some real examples:

• I wake up very early. Usually between 4:30 AM - 5:30 AM. My mind is immediately active as there are hundreds of thoughts racing through my head, usually nothing to do with the steps I need to take to start my day (ie, this morning I woke up and thought about a joke book I read when I was little, followed by thinking about other books I like when I was little, followed by a thought of “I wonder if there’s an app for this”)

• I run. I get outside, it’s still dark, but I run. (Not every day, mind you - five times a week. My knees can’t do seven days). I dont plan the length. Mostly I run 3-6 miles. On weekends if I feel I need some more brain stuff to figure out, I’ll run longer, usually more than 10 miles. This is one of my only two daily routines I’ve managed to make stick.
• Get to work. I work remotely from 7:00 AM - 3:00 PM MST. Working earlier is a blessing as I’m at my most productive, and my brain synapses are firing at supersonic speed.?
• Minutes in, I’ll get distracted. It doesn’t take much. As an example, a few days ago I was working on an email, stopped midway through, and googled “Can you eat watermelon rinds?” My email had nothing to do with watermelon, I had not been eating watermelon, there was nothing watermelon related happening in my life. And yet, I HAD to google this and do a deep dive into watermelon rinds. (Yes, you can eat them and apparently they have many health benefits)
• I shift to “sit on my feet”, that is, putting my feet on my chair and squatting as if I’m a football coach disgruntled with my teams’ play. To anyone else, this may look incredibly uncomfortable, but it helps me concentrate.?
• Constant noise. To be productive, I need white noise, music (for a bit), or ASMR (sounds of turning pages in the background). My headphones are almost always on.
• I’m not organized. I dont have an organization system, I’ve tried dozens. They never work. Why? It’s because my brain thinks differently every day. If I establish a robust system of how I think things should look on a calendar, planner, or if I’m filing something away, my brain will completely forget the path of that theme, as I’ll think about it in a different way the next day. This is also problematic when it comes to creating different folders for my email. I prefer large desks because I spread out my chaos. This is how I know what’s important or what’s next to focus on.
• Medication? I do have a prescription for adderall. Does it help? Yes, for a while. But then I feel completely void of all emotion and motivation later on. So I don’t usually like to take them. (Also, not a great combo to be taking with my anxiety/depression medications)
• Tangible things to fidget with. Any meeting I’m ever in, my hands are being occupied. If you dont have fidget items, garbage twist ties work great to fiddle with during meetings.?
• Moving. I schedule brain breaks for myself to physically move (this is doubly important if I’m unable to run in the mornings)
• Misplacing items. I don’t often LOSE items, but I MISPLACE items daily. I’ll carry something into a room, leave it, and forget it was ever there. This is a constant struggle for me, thankfully my wife is incredibly sharp and always helps me remember where I left an item.
• Perceived laziness. There are many times where I completely zone out to the outside world. If someone asks me to do something I’ll say “sure!” only to not register what it is I agreed to or immediately forgetting about it. This is due to the six-lane highway pileup in my brain of something I’m lingering on from earlier.?
• Constant fatigue. Of course this is associated with exercising a bunch, but also due to poor sleep. Every single night before I sleep, it’s a nonstop cacophony of random musings parading through my mind, dispelling any notion that I actually need to fall asleep.?

So what DOES help?

• My ADHD allows me to be incredibly adaptable. Because of my short attention span, I can easily shift to another priority as needed.
• Reading. Lots of reading. I try to read at least 50 books a year. This is my second daily routine. I read every single night. I’m fortunate enough to experience books like I’m watching movies, with everything in great detail (thanks for this one, brain.) During my runs, I’ll listen to audiobooks.
• Exercise. It allows my brain to go full ADHD mode and let it wander, while at the same time contributing support my physical and mental wellbeing (dopamine is my greatest antidepressant!)
• Multiple means of representation. Exploring different ways to learn. For example, any TV show I watch must have subtitles. It makes me focus more on the program, and it allows for greater context of words I cannot hear or do not understand.
• Flexibility. I promise I’m not ignoring that thing we talked about. I just dont remember it. Flexibility in scheduling is key.

If you’re still here, thank you! I hope this provided some insight. ADHD is not the same for everyone. I like to think it exists on a scale, like many other neurodivergent identities. If any of the above resonated with you and you’ve never been formerly diagnosed, I full-heartedly recommend talking to someone about it. It has helped me greatly.

TLDR: I have ADHD, but I can’t imagine life without it.?