I’ve been diagnosed recently. I’m 19.
When I was younger, I always scored high in aptitudes tests. By all estimate, I was expected to be an extraordinary student. And I did; Extraordinarily bad. Whenever I tried to sit down and study, I couldn’t. On a whim, anything caught me. I tried all sorts of things: Rewards, reminders of what was at stake, deleting all social media, and even turning my phone black and white. Same thing homework and essays; I couldn’t find a way to do them until I’d missed three deadlines and my teachers told me that they’d literally have to fail me if I waited another day. Consequently, my work was always rushed, which reflected on my grades. By the time I graduated, (I barely did) my teachers congratulated me, because they didn’t even expect that from me anymore.
My teachers always looked at me with some sort of contempt. They’d compare me to my aptitude tests in dissappointed resignation, and tell me I could be so much more. And I believed them. I wanted to stand side by side by those exemplary students everyone knows have gotten the class’ top grade even before the test is over. I wanted to be great. But I couldn’t.
Socially I wasn’t great either. I spent all my life with the same friend group, and I believed this created some loyalty between us. But when push came to shove, I was effectively expelled from the group in favour of someone else. I complained this was unfair: I was the one wronged, and they’d known me for so much longer, but they chose him. Apparently I hadn’t formed “deep emotional bonds” with them. I guess so, because I still don’t know what that means.
These social issues affected my mental health to the point I was sent to a psychologist. This was also supposed to help with my academic motivation. I spent the next two years bouncing between psychologists And psychiatrists who taught me stupid breathing techniques and did blood tests on me. I hate psychologists, they baby you only to paternalistic show you the same techniques and insist you keep coming, even after you explain it doesn’t work.
After two years of a shit academic life, a shit a social life, a shit home life, and shit psychologists, a psychiatrist finally sent me to get a neuropsychological study. In two weeks I got my report; It basically describes me as a clear, easily identifyable text book example. It felt demeaning; Apparently it was blatantly obvious, yet everyone missed it for years. Then the psychiatrist diagnosed me.
Life is immensley different now. Turns out my failure was a bad deck. I hate everything. I hate the relationships and opportunities I lost because of this crap. I hate the psychologists who repeatedly wasted my time. I hate my K14 school for never noticing anything in 15 years of continous education. I hate my POS father for never noticing. I hate myself but never noticing. I can’t stop thinking of how different my life could’ve been if I’d been diagnosed earlier. I can’t stop thinking of the opportunities that were stolen from me. I could’ve been great.