Finally, I Can Understand Myself a Little Better – Diagnosis Makes a Difference

Who am I? Why don’t people want to be with me? Why don’t other people understand what I’m saying?

This has been the cry of my heart for as long as I can remember. I didn’t really know that I was SO different from other people. I just knew that I didn’t know how to fit in.

AS A CHILD: My heart broke nearly every day. My tears flowed, Every evening, I went to my room, laid on my bed and read a book. Never about reality. I didn’t like reality. The books I read were filled with strange beasts and wonderful inventions.

AS AN ADULT: I didn’t know how to function. I followed my emotions anywhere they led me. Impulsive, unwise decisions, not just once, but habitually, continually. I didn’t have input, minimal social contact, no advice, no suggestions. Just books. More fantasy.

Then one day late last year, I began to plan my own demise. And it scared me. I sought help almost immediately.

I saw a psychiatrist, psychologist, and therapist in the following months. I was diagnosed with two mental health conditions.

SAD – Social Anxiety Disorder – this didn’t surprise me at all since I had been so very socially challenged all my life.

MDD – Major Depressive Disorder – this was diagnosed as a lifetime depression caused by a specific trauma from childhood.

ADHD – Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder – I am 99.99% positive that I have ADHD. I was being tested and it got cut short so I’ve asked to be retested.


NOW – I’m a writer on Medium and well adjusted, I think. I keep discovering things about myself and the world around me as I write stories. Recently, I found out about the word NEURODIVERGENT and realized that I am part of that group of people that think differently from the majority of the world which is called NEUROTYPICAL.


My life is filled with regrets and wishes for a chance to do a lot of things over again. But I know that’s not possible, except in the books that I read, outside reality and into imagination.

One summer we bought Ebikes. My husband broke his ribs TWICE while riding so we don’t do that anymore!

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