I Almost Convinced Myself I Wasn’t ADHD. Then a Deadline Proved Me Wrong. What Does a Healed, Untraumatized ADHDer Look Like? I’m determined to find out.

On February 3, 2021, when I was diagnosed as ADHD, or more formally Attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder, combined type (F90.2), it came as no real surprise to me.

For me, ADHD was more of a checkmark, a confirmation of something that had been thrown at me many times over the years.

Autism, in 2016, was a surprise to me (mainly due to how little I actually knew about Autism back then), but ADHD was much more familiar.

I was in the first or second grade the first time it was suggested to anyone that I might be ADHD, but the suggestion “that there was something wrong“ with me (not that there actually is anything wrong with ADHD) put the adults in charge of my care off. When pressured to have me evaluated for ADHD by my school, they pushed back, sending a note that read:

“Dear Ms. [REDACTED],

We have decided that we wish to defer testing [DEAD NAME] for learning disabilities at this time. We wish to pursue other options just now. We are considering private testing and tutoring as we research their possible problems.

Thank you for calling this to our attention. We will get back to you soon.”

Back then, and in some circles (even today), ADHD was thought of primarily as “a problem“ to be “solved“ (similar to how Autism is often viewed).

I will say that, to me, it feels like, as ADHDers, we’ve come a long way in re-shaping public perception around ADHD over my lifetime, just thinking about how significantly different the way people in my life now see ADHD compared to when I was a kid (from “that kid can’t be ADHD“ to “that kid, whose now an adult, is ADHD and so am I“). It’s funny to see things come full circle.

People know that ADHD adults exist, and that ADHDers are their friends, neighbors, co-workers, and family members, which is more than I can say for those of us who are also Autistic.

Autism and Autistic people, in my opinion, still have a lot more work to do.

We’re making progress, but public perception and understanding around Autistic existence are still not lining up with the realities that many Autistic people face day to day.

People in the wider world today still buy into many myths and stereotypes about Autistic people, failing to understand even the basics of Autism (like the spectrum not being linear from high to low functioning, how talking about individual support needs is more helpful than generalizing and making assumptions about all Autistic people, that you can’t always tell if someone is Autistic by looking at them, or that Autism is a lifelong differences and we don’t “become Autistic” or “grow out of” being Autistic, or that just because someone isn’t speaking, it doesn’t mean they don’t understand everything you’re saying about them)… You know, the bare minimum things Autistic people wish non-autistic people understood about us.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve made significant progress in just the past 9 years (since I was diagnosed), but when I compare the difference between my Autistic experience and my ADHD one, it is clear we still have a long way to go.

When I was diagnosed Autistic (in 2016), many of the Autistic people in my life didn’t yet know they were Autistic (and weren’t ready to accept that part of themselves yet). Still, people were more willing and open to talk about ADHD.

Growing up, I knew many ADHDers, but didn’t know any openly Autistic people.

Several of my best friends, even in grade school, were diagnosed with ADHD.

Most of the people closest to me (whom I relate to the most) are AuDHD or ADHD. In fact, it was because multiple ADHDers in my life had just assumed I was also ADHD, based on our interactions together, that I decided to go and get tested, finally.

Getting diagnosed with ADHD, for me, was like saying, “Fine, I give in,“ to something that had been both gently and not so gently suggested to me for years that I could no longer deny about myself.

I was 34 years old when I was finally diagnosed with ADHD.

At that point, I’d already spent over 30 years navigating life as an ADHDer with no support other than the systems that I’d carved out to support myself.

I’ve tried the medications, and while they can be life-changing for some people, they weren’t for me.

Since learning I was Autistic only a few years earlier, I’d redesigned my entire life in a way as to support my strengths and weaknesses, mainly by avoiding, delegating, or limiting the time I spend each day on the types of tasks my AuADHD (Autistic-ADHD) brain hates.

Before learning about other brain-based variations I embody, I attributed almost every difference in my life to Autism, but as I learned more about myself, I started to realize that there was a lot more than “just Autism“ going on with me.

Untangling the Web of Trauma, Shadows, and ADHD

As I started working on my trauma healing and shadow work journey (specifically developing coping skills so I could learn to recognize my triggers or when I was dissociating, so I could work through the root of those different issues, and I became less dissociative and triggered), part of me started to wonder if I was really ADHD at all.

Trauma and ADHD have a way of mirroring one another, so now that I’m less foggy, raw, and less triggered by other people and past events, I’m learning that many things I thought were just part of my Autism and ADHD were actually trauma responses (that often were exacerbated by my AuDHD brain).

Now I get to learn something I’ve wondered for a long time:

“What does an untraumatized (or healed from trauma) Autistic person or ADHDer look like?“

I am loving having fewer meltdowns because I now know my triggers and why those things trigger me.

I love being able to feel the emotions rise in me before they become overwhelming, so I can act on them when I’m still in a clearer state of mind.

I also love not having memory holes in my day, or constantly spacing out and forgetting what I was doing.

I love that I’ve shifted myself from being ashamed of my feelings to being curious about them, so I can learn where they come from (instead of swallowing or ignoring them).

I love that being Autistic and ADHD have become less complicated for me to manage for the most part… but I’m also aware that a lot of the reason I’m not currently struggling is primarily due to the expectations on me being ones I can reasonably manage and also because I have tools in place (like Focused Space) to support myself.

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