My ADHD assessment appointment was pushed out by two weeks due to staff sickness. Externally, I was understanding; internally, I was spiralling. Two more weeks of fighting with myself, fighting the urge to create and rehearse a script of what I would say. Fearful thoughts oscillating between, “What if they say I’m fine? What if I have just wasted everybody’s time?” and, “What if they diagnose me with something else, something really bad?” How do I show the crazy without being too crazy?
Then the day finally came. An early morning appointment, just enough time to feel nauseous. By the time the screen turned on and a face appeared, my script was gone. It was an hour and a half of tears, and of course I had forgotten tissues.
The next morning, I missed a call from the consultant psychiatrist. They left a message to say they would call back. Waiting mode initiated. I turned the ringer volume up and didn’t let my phone leave my sight. No music, no toilet breaks until the information loop was closed.
Three hours later, I answered the call.
“You meet the criteria for ADHD, predominantly Inattentive type.”
A wave of relief, then the tears returned. Then the questioning. Was that even real? Did I just imagine the entire conversation? How is it possible that someone can call you and, with one sentence, completely flip how you have viewed your entire life?
Until this point, ADHD had been a question mark, just a possibility. I had already started trying to make adjustments to make things easier for my brain but was still carrying the frustration and shame that I couldn’t just do things like ‘normal’ people do. I lived in constant self-monitoring mode.
I talked about how leadership requires authenticity and vulnerability, and yet I was pretending, even to myself, that the mask I wore was the whole truth. My messy house, my exhaustion, my confusion all hidden behind a wall of competence.
It makes sense that I finally took this step before beginning my private practice. It means that I’m entering this space grounded in full integrity. How I want to be as a supervisor is grounded, solid, and willing to sit with uncertainty. A space where people can drop the mask and share their mess. A companion on their courageous journey to find their own answers.
Tracey Wakefield 