Brain Disorder or Superpower?
Note: I updated this article on December 9, and again on January 15, based on readers’ comments.
I was diagnosed recently with ADHD, Attention Deficit-Hyperactivity Disorder, of the subtype “inattentive.” I was not surprised. In fact, I suspected this for a long time, but never sought a diagnosis or treatment until now.
For most of my life, I did my best to ignore, solve, or overcome my atypical brain function, so I could be '“normal.” I deployed compensatory behaviors of all types: calendars, checklists, activity logs, sticky notes, alarms, and alerts.
None of those tactics worked, or at least not consistently. I was often late for appointments and meetings, as I would be distracted by “one more thing” on my way out the door. I elevated procrastination to an art form. I talked too fast, I spoke out of turn, I interrupted others and finished their sentences.
Hidden powers of ADHD
On the other hand, my profoundly non-linear thinking patterns have often led me to solve problems in the “out-of-the-box” way that is said to be highly prized. This intuitive style of reasoning can elicit great results, as I tie together a mass of information from disparate sources and look at it all in a new light. My brain is agile and my decision-making process is integrative. I’ve been called an “orthogonal” thinker, which I took to be a compliment.
Faced with an important choice, in writing or in life, I examine all the data in excruciating detail, and then I take a leap of faith and reason to arrive at a conclusion.
That leap is a gift, possibly a superpower. It sometimes gets me into trouble, though. I can’t always describe why or how I arrived at my revelatory destination, or prove numerically that my intuition is correct.
That makes it hard to convince the linear thinkers who happen to comprise the majority of senior employees and managers at high-tech companies. They might get frustrated with me, and I with them. I didn’t blame them for the mismatch in thought patterns and communication styles. What good would that do?
A square Peg?
I tried harder to fit in.
I gathered statistical evidence and other research to support my points. But the moment would pass, my proof points would be dismissed, ironically, as “too detailed” — and the discussion moved on.
My “quirks” didn't exactly escape anyone’s attention, but the ADHD diagnosis did not seem obvious, either. For as long as I can remember, I’ve received plenty of advice from friends, teachers, and co-workers, but nobody suggested medication, or even cognitive behavioral therapy. After all, I am not — nor have I ever been — a jumpy, hyperactive little boy. The stereotypes didn’t apply to me.
Is neurodiversity a “thing”?
These days, I might be called “neurodiverse,” or “non-neurotypical.” (That’s not a new designation, but it is new to me.) It all sounds so polite and technical. But it means only that my brain doesn’t work the same way yours does — unless you’re also “neurodiverse.”
Corporate awareness of neurodiversity, such as it is, usually covers autism spectrum disorder, not ADHD. I’ve worked with people who are “on the spectrum.” They’re mostly awesome at what they do, when given the opportunities and work conditions that allow them to shine. If you’re a manager or co-worker of someone on the autism spectrum, you do have to be ready to surrender some of your expectations about social interaction styles and norms. Just relax, let that person be different, and try not to hold it against them.
When HR managers talk about improving and accommodating diversity, I’m pretty sure they’re not talking about neurodiversity. Maybe they should, according to an article in the Harvard Business Review. But I have found, perhaps not coincidentally, that my patterns of thought and behavior are more compatible with a diverse workforce.
Neurodiversity and ethnic diversity
In fact, my behavior was fairly mainstream in my native New York City, especially among ethnic Jews, Italians, Puerto Ricans, and African-Americans. I wasn’t necessarily an ideal performer in every circumstance, but I was successful and confident. I was recognized and promoted. I was perceived as a leader.
My mannerisms and forms of expression didn’t draw a lot of attention in New York, much less flak. Sociologist Deborah Tannen would say that New Yorkers, for the most part, are accustomed to the cooperative, overlapping conversational style that she attributes to Jews of Eastern European ancestry. Maybe we all have ADHD, too.
Non-Jews on the West Coast? Not so much.
So, when I followed my boyfriend (now husband) to the Pacific Northwest, my career hit some ADHD-related speed bumps. A couple of managers at Intel saw fit to send me to “Effective Communication” seminars. Not coincidentally, perhaps, those particular managers were native Californians.
But I digress. (I say that — and do it — quite a lot.)
Stimulants slow me down
Fast-forward to 2020 (or even better, fast-forward through 2020.)
I’ve had a more flexible schedule this year, as a result of an abrupt, unanticipated bout of unemployment. (Thanks, COVID!) I made an appointment for an ADHD evaluation that resulted in the above-mentioned diagnosis. And I got a prescription for a stimulant medication.
If a “neurotypical” (a.k.a. “normal”) person took this stuff, it could produce a euphoric kind of high, so it’s a drug with the potential to be extremely addictive. For me, it has almost no impact. If anything, I feel calmer.
I sleep better, too. I don’t lie awake, my mind racing, fretting about all the bad things that might happen in the future. I’m better able to focus on tasks and conversations that don’t yield immediate gratification. I don’t try to do three other things while I’m also cooking, for example.
Now I can sit through a webinar, or my child’s detailed exegesis on the unsatisfactory final episode of a long-running TV show, without simultaneously playing solitaire on my phone. I pay bills on time. And I don’t burn dinner nearly as often as I used to. That’s totally a win-win.
My new boss has ADHD
I’m my own boss now, working as a consultant and freelancer. As I learn more about ADHD in myself and others, I understand why so many with this condition become entrepreneurs. Some aspects of ADHD are actually conducive, or even necessary, to entrepreneurial success.
Of course, I do have clients, and I have a responsibility to produce high-quality work for them on a schedule. On the other hand, I don’t have to accept every project that’s offered. Since I make money only when I fulfill my obligations to my clients, I am motivated to get the work done.
The stimulant medication helps me to stay on task. I’m able to learn new skills more easily because I don’t get derailed by the frustration and tedium of repeated, unsuccessful trials. Instead, I stick it out until I get it right, feeling proud of my hard-won accomplishments. I’m building websites, designing icons and logos, and stretching myself in new ways.
I work from home, as many of us do these days. In March and April, I was troubled by the many distractions, but now I am able to divide my attention in more productive ways: I work intensively for a few hours, then I take a break and do something completely different: load the dishwasher, walk the dog, order groceries, whatever.
At the end of the day, I’ll sit on the couch with my husband and write a blog post or solve a crossword puzzle, with one eye on the TV. This is my time. I’m off-duty, the meds have worn off, and I can multitask if I want to.
I’m finding my way, and I’m enjoying the journey.
