I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was 7. Now as an adult, I’d love to live a day in somebody’s quiet head.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Chloe-Louise Bond. It has been edited for length and clarity. I was diagnosed with attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, or ADHD , when I was 7.

I spent two years on a wait list in West Yorkshire, England, for an appointment with a child psychologist. My mother found it almost impossible to control me and was desperate to find out what was going on. It was in the late 1990s when ADHD was not well researched, and it was considered a boys’ condition.

Girls were more likely to mask their symptoms by imitating neurotypical behavior. But things were difficult for me at school. My teachers would constantly tell my mother to come pick me up.

I’d be set off by something like wearing underwear in a certain color I didn’t like. I’d have a tantrum and lash out at people. Looking back, I don’t think it was the underwear.

It was just an outlet for frustration. I was prescribed Ritalin after being diagnosed by three psychologists who agreed that I had ADHD. They prescribed the drug once they’d observed me at school, at home, and at my general practitioner.

I was seen by another psychologist from time to time. But I can’t remember what they asked about. I just recall playing with a doll’s house in their office.

Ritalin had minimal effects on my day-to-day life. I think it actually added fuel to the fire. I’d have a compulsion to make strange noises and was excluded socially.

The other children couldn’t understand my world or keep up with me. I was never invited to birthday parties because I was “that” kid who was going to cause trouble. I moved schools countless times and never settled anywhere.

I was gifted, so I’d get bored by the curriculum for my age group and disrupt the class. They’d try to put me in with the older kids, but I still acted out. I avoided school so often that truant officers would come to the house.

Between the ages of 14 and 16, I went to school about 70% of the time I was supposed to be there. One day, around the age of 15, I couldn’t concentrate in math class. It was hot and my clothes felt itchy.

I tried to keep it in, but I said something out loud that was irrelevant. The teacher was angry with me for interrupting her and distracting everyone. I said: “But you know I have ADHD, though?” She screamed in my face in front of all the kids: “ADHD doesn’t exist! It’s simply an excuse for naughty children’s behavior.

” It was humiliating and soul-destroying. I decided to stop taking Ritalin when I was 16. It wasn’t helping.

I felt I somehow had to learn to deal with my condition on my own. After I left school, I floated around doing random jobs. By the time I was 23, I was self-employed as a driving instructor.

It was easier to deal with my racing thoughts without the worry of having a boss. Since then, I’ve tried my best to get to grips with my ADHD and manage it better. It gets easier as I age to coach myself mentally through the day and “act normal.

” It helps if I keep spreadsheets to stay on top of stuff like finances. And I make notes on my phone so I don’t forget things as often as I did when I was younger. As strange as it sounds, I find that coffee helps.

It seems to balance my energy levels so it’s not such a wild ride. I speak very quickly and battle the urge to interrupt people. I’ll often sleep for just two hours a night.

I won’t feel tired and buy a lot from the internet. When it’s delivered, I’ll say to myself, “What were you thinking?” The positive side of ADHD is my sense of humor, perseverance, and my ability to easily do about four things at once. I might watch TV, listen to the radio, use my computer, and speak on the phone.

But it’s a struggle to stay on task. That’s when I find my life in chaos. Over the past five years, I’ve noticed that ADHD has become trendy to talk about.

But having a messy room and forgetting to brush your teeth isn’t the same as living with ADHD. Why would anyone want their brain to work that way? At the age of 30, I’d love to live a day in somebody’s head where it’s quiet. .