Oversharing once again –?how I accepted ADHD

In recent weeks, I've been blessed by the influx of feedback and personal anecdotes that have poured in response to my articles. It's a profound experience to witness the resonance my words have found among individuals of diverse backgrounds, all bound together by the lived experiences of neurodivergence. Since the start of this series, I've been inundated with requests for insights into the daily rhythms of life with neurodivergence, and strategies for not just managing, but flourishing in both personal and professional spheres. While I acknowledge the inherent diversity within neurodivergent communities, I'm a firm advocate for the ethos of self-determination and leveraging our inherent strengths to surmount the challenges before us.

Before we talk about the specifics, allow me to draw inspiration from a classical Chinese story. The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, an illustrious Chinese epic from the 16th century, weaves a tale of a bygone era marked by tumult and strife. Amidst the political machinations and battles for supremacy, one figure stands out as a symbol of altruism and indefatigable spirit: Liu Bei. Though I hesitate to equate my own journey with that of such a storied figure, there's a resonance in Liu Bei's unwavering dedication to the common good amidst the turbulence of his times. Like him, I've traversed through adversity, often feeling adrift and buffeted by forces beyond my control. Yet, through the support of cherished companions and the unyielding resolve within, I've managed to confront adversities that once seemed insurmountable.

School was my main battleground. When I first moved to the US to a mostly white neighborhood, my then-undiagnosed ADHD coupled with my inability to fluently speak English manifested in disruptive behaviors that led to numerous calls to the principal’s office and isolation from other kids. I found solace in books and read books after books during my personal time, including recesses and school bus rides, and modeled my personality after characters I attached to. I felt an urge to consume other worlds to make up for my mundane one, probably because I was lonely and was craving some magical realism to make my surroundings interesting. As I quickly became fluent in English, my desire to imbue magic into the world grew. I simultaneously wanted to blend in but also felt unable to. I pretended that I was not “Jim” but someone with a more interesting story–someone who was hip, listened to death metal, and played pickup basketball in an attempt to abandon my authentic self. I also started to notice that I tended to observe people’s behaviors in more detail, which usually led to ostracization since I also had (and still have) a tendency to speak whatever was on my mind without processing it much. I began masking this aspect of myself, too, after getting beat up after school one day after commenting on a fellow classmate’s habit of asking “dumb” questions.

In high school, a pivotal period of self-discovery, I finally found a sense of belonging among fellow Chinese students. It was here that I began to peel back the layers of self-imposed restraint, embracing my talkative nature and reclaiming pride in my cultural heritage. Through braver displays of my identity, such as conversing with my parents in Chinese on campus, I forged genuine connections that endure to this day. Yet, despite this newfound comfort, a lingering sense of uncertainty clouded my path. While academic pursuits came easily, the challenge lay in defining my aspirations. I dabbled in a myriad of potential careers, from novelist to anesthesiologist to US diplomat to China, and immersed myself in extracurricular activities without heed to the toll on my own well-being.

It was amidst this tumultuous journey that I discovered the stark divergence in my thought processes compared to my peers. Despite enrolling in AP classes to bolster my GPA, my interests often led me astray. For example, I would skip my AP Biology class to attend the astronomy class because the celestial cells interested me far more than the earthly ones. Surprisingly, my teacher recognized this divergence from the norm not as defiance, but as an opportunity for exploration. Encouraged to pursue my interests while maintaining academic excellence, I thrived under this newfound autonomy. Similarly, my involvement in varsity sports showcased a dichotomy between my disregard for rules and my fervent commitment to strategic improvement. Though my actions may have appeared contrary, they were driven by an internal compass guiding me towards fulfillment.

In my first article in this series, I noted that I also failed to define whom I wanted to become in college, leading to numerous shifts in personalities. At the same time I was blaming myself for my self-perceived lack of academic prowess and inability to connect with people, I was also kicking myself for seemingly being unable to successfully interview. Whether it’s for clubs or for internship positions, I tended to provide too much information because I thought about problems too broadly: I would feel insecurity if I did not consider or cover every possible scenario. In the world of professional interviewing where striking a balance while thinking on the spot was key, I was completely off the mark. Rejection dysphoria, my self-imposed pressure, perfectionism, and self-comparison with peers became my Four Horsemen of despair and depression. (I discuss the difficulties of interviewing in general in another article.)?

Yet, even amidst newfound connections, I found myself grappling with the perennial quest for purpose and direction. Central to this journey has been the profound gift of self-awareness—a beacon that illuminates the path toward self-regulation. Recognizing the inherent deficiencies within conventional systems, I've embraced a twin approach: persisting within existing frameworks while actively seeking environments that nurture and amplify my inherent strengths. Conversations with fellow neurodivergent peers and neurotypical high achievers alike have proven to be wellsprings of wisdom, guiding me toward a path defined not by accolades, but by the unquenchable thirst for knowledge and growth. Moreover, I've endeavored to turn my passions into creative endeavors, weaving narratives that resonate with the harmonics of my soul.

For me, here are some things that helped me recognize my symptoms (disclaimer: some items here arose from fortunate circumstances that not everyone would have access to, but my goal here is to provide an idea of how a person with ADHD could potentially recognize and regulate their symptoms):

• I realized that 99% of the systems in place are not optimized for neurodivergent people, and I felt that there are only two options when it comes to doing well: 1/ bootstrapping with ruthless persistence, or 2/ accepting this reality and finding opportunities and environments that are better fit. Unfortunately, I feel that, in the U.S., number 1 is a much higher necessity for survival.
• As soon as I started having thoughts of the possibility of having ADHD, I talked to my neurodivergent friends about ADHD symptoms and the process of becoming diagnosed. This process brought me not only enlightenment and self-acceptance but also the gift of being kinder to myself whenever I don’t fit in. (This is something I’m still working on; frankly, rejection dysphoria and self-pressure still dominate many of my motivations.)
• I spoke with several “high-achieving” (by neurotypical standards, of course) neurotypical friends on why they were doing what they were doing and their core visions, whether they’re specific achievements, personal interests, or careers. These conversations made me shift my personal priorities from achievement-oriented actions to staying curious and always learning. I started this series as a result!
• In my daily regiment of job hunting, I took a step back from applying and interviewing to reflect on what I liked doing. Then, I thought about how I could start doing those things, or what stopped me from doing them. I have turned many of those interests into side projects that convey passionate stories reflecting my personality and skill set.

What’s next? I am planning to share my perspective on working as a product manager and data analyst as an ADHD individual, as well as how I decided to pursue a Master’s degree in data science. Stay tuned!