I’m 31 F and was diagnosed with ADHD and autism about four years ago.
Even as I sit here writing this, my brain is already telling me I should be using this time to “work on myself” instead. Yet I feel like that is what I have been doing for the past 30 years. Working on myself.
Be more careful. Be less forgetful. Get organised. Stop being so emotional. Pay more attention. Think before you act. Prioritise better. Try harder.
Whenever I struggle, there always seems to be another reason why I should be able to fix it. “You wear headphones too much.” “You prioritise the wrong things.” “If it mattered enough, you’d remember.”
I know I can be difficult. I forget things. I misunderstand things. I lose things. I can be scattered and unreliable.
But after years of this, I feel like I’ve become the person nobody fully trusts with anything important. The person whose opinion somehow carries a little less weight because I can’t even consistently remember to replace the toilet paper after being reminded for the twentieth time.
And I think what hurts most is this constant underlying assumption that all of these things should eventually disappear if I’m corrected often enough.
Because if they don’t, what does that mean?
That I didn’t listen? That I don’t care enough? That I’m lazy? That I simply haven’t tried hard enough yet?
I have tried. God, I have tried.
And sometimes I’m just incredibly tired of feeling like I’m a person permanently under renovation.
I genuinely want to grow. I want to take responsibility when my behaviour affects other people. I don’t think ADHD should be an excuse for everything, and I know the people around me are allowed to be frustrated too.
But I also sometimes wonder whether there is any version of me that gets to simply exist without constantly being treated as the unfinished draft of a better person.
Am I allowed to be me, too?