Half‑life: The Path to a Whole Life

Do not silence yourself to say something 
And do not speak to be silent 
If you accept, then express it bluntly 
Do not mask it 
Kahlil Gibran.  

I am 59 years old. I have been living all this time in a Half Life with my voice trapped inside me.  It has taken this long to find out that I have ADHD. This is my story: 

There’s something about Alison 

I appeared earlier than expected. But there were already signs. Due to my premature arrival, the doctor advised my mother that “there might be something about Alison.” That “Something” was not specified.  

One of the Somethings that showed itself early on, was my sensitivity to noise. I was taken by my Great Aunt to a pipe band concert (I grew up in Scotland), and I screamed the place down. I must have been two years old, but I remember my terror at the massive drum. To me the slightly muffled thud of the drumsticks on the drum appeared in my mind to be the footsteps of a giant who was coming to get me.  

Sensory overload coupled with a vivid imagination were always present in childhood. In addition to noise-sensitivity, I had problems with my skin breaking out in hives when I was particularly anxious. I was overwhelmed by being in certain types of light.  

Then another Something appeared. At about five years old I started having seizures. I would become delirious, the world took on a completely unreal appearance, bright light became brighter, I would feel myself disappearing, and then I would fall unconscious. I would come round in bed with amnesia for a brief time accompanied by a severe headache. When I was over-excited, the fits were more frequent. I was horse-mad so when I got to go and stay with relatives who had a horse, I was so wound up with excitement that I had two seizures while staying with them.  

I was diagnosed with epilepsy, taken to hospital every six months, and examined by neurologists and at one point a psychiatrist. There was no suggestion of ADHD in all this, but then it was the 1970s, and in addition, I was already masking. I had already learned to act in the way expected of me, even if it took all my  energy to manage it.  

Could do better 

I was academically bright. I could read and write when I was three, but had the attention span of a fruit fly. I picked subjects that interested me very quickly. I loved ballet. I loved stage musicals. I loved horses. I loved reading, but only books that got my attention right away. I would devour a book I liked in a day. If it didn’t interest me then forget it, I was not going to persevere with it.  

Among the Somethings was my scatter-brained approach to life. I would lose things. I broke things easily. I was the one who came home with holes in her school trousers as it had been snowing, and I had joined the others who were sledging down a hill outside the school. I didn’t need a sledge. I threw myself down the icy slope on my backside and walked all the way home without realising that my underwear was in full view through the holes in my trousers.  

The tendency to master things either right away or just not bother, remained with me as I grew older. I got high marks for my exams in all the subjects I care about – English French, Art, History. But as for Maths and Physics – I just could not see the point.  

At University, this trend continued. I initially studied Russian, French and History. I took Russian from scratch, and I picked it up very quickly. However, I had serious problems in focusing. I found it far more interesting to involve myself in my classmate’s campaign to have her husband, a Moldovan, join her in the UK. As a Soviet citizen he was denied permission to leave. I was so engrossed in her hunger strike and protests outside the Soviet Embassy that I did the bare minimum required to pass my exams. I didn’t bother attending any lectures at all in my history course, but I crammed a year’s content into a few days before the exams and always cobbled enough together to pass.  

With this unorthodox approach, I managed to scrape a second-class Honours degree. I had the potential to do much better, but no one knew that behind my combination of lack of focus or hyperfocus there was a reason. That Something was ADHD. 

Careering into disaster  

I went from university quickly into a high-powered job in International Relations. My employer was about to establish a connection with the City of Homiel in Belarus. Looking back this was the ideal job for someone with ADHD. My work practices were very unconventional. I was great at the “big picture” such as bribing my way into the Chernobyl exclusion zone, but very unreliable on the boring practicalities. I was a genius at producing ideas for projects involving all our international partners. I was impressive with foreign VIPs, could be very entertaining at formal dinners and made a huge impression as part of delegations from my city to foreign climes. I could flit quite easily from meeting Mikhail Gorbachev, to setting up an art exhibition involving five countries while simultaneously linking up deaf communities in Homiel with and my city. But could I be counted on to put my signature on invoices for people to be paid for work they had done for me? Of course not. My desk was chaotic. My mind always on higher matters.  

My masking was so well-developed I appeared to be under control. And as I was the only person in the department of which I was head, no-one noticed just how unorthodox my methods were.  

And then alcohol was started to play a significant role in how I coped with this high-octane, glorious technicolour world in which I lived that brought with it extreme anxiety. Without knowing it, I was teetering on the edge of a cliff. There was a flashpoint to come that was to push me over the edge that was so extreme that none of my masks were strong enough to cover.  

The dam bursts 

I sent a delegation to Homiel carry out an environmental project. There were local politicians involved, and two of my colleagues - my boss and an environmental health officer. On a rest day my colleagues working were taken out on the River Sozh on a small motorboat which stopped at various man-made beaches where they had a barbecue, and industrial quantities of alcohol were consumed. My two colleagues went into the river for a swim. The boat became loose from its moorings. When my colleagues were at the back of the boat, the captain turned on the engine. The propellers created a vortex into which my boss Ann, and colleague Iain were dragged. Ann was dismembered. Iain was pulled down after her and drowned.  

The news had hit my office back in Scotland. I was advised that the two of them were missing presumed drowned. Immediately, I swung into action. The next morning, I was off to London to get a Belarusian visa and that afternoon, I arrived in Minsk along with a Detective Inspector from Grampian Police who had experience of international disaster management and repatriation of human remains.  

This task would have been too much for “civilians” aka non-Adhders, but not me. I had my goal. I was focused on getting the bodies returned to their shocked and grieving families back in Scotland. No obstacle was too big to impede me in my mission. I knew how to bribe my way towards results. This meant I procured two suites for myself and the detective respectively and the next day we were driven to Homiel by a little man with a Mercedes.  

We were taken to the mortuary to identify their bodies. The task before me, my mission rather than taking the estimated several weeks, took me two and a half working days. It meant identifying the remains, dealing with the mountains of paperwork required by Belarusian bureaucracy, death certificate produced, and coffins arranged. For the crates that they were to be transported in, we needed aluminium. My hyper-focused self had a brain wave. What about the watch factory? They would have some surely. And they did…of course they did. On top of it, I organised a Requiem to be held in Homiel cathedral.  

It was a whirlwind. I loved whirlwinds. I can DO whirlwinds. It is in the calm after the storm that I start to disintegrate...  

Over the cliff edge 

And disintegrate I did. The intensity of the experience I had been through started to impact on my health and it heightened what I now know are symptoms of ADHD with an added layer of PTSD. I was even less inclined to do anything at work that didn’t excite or inspire me. I got irritated at meetings where people seemed intent on discussing trivialities. I soon became unable to operate effectively unless in extremis. I was ready to step in to international disasters and be good at it, but I was somehow paralyzed when it came to the run of the mill functions of a local government officer.  

I started to rely on alcohol to dampen down my whizzing brain. It worked for a while then it started to turn on me. I became even more careless, less able to conduct the mundane tasks of life and in short, I was heading for a breakdown. And when I finally admitted defeat, it was one day I was at a work meeting. I was asked a simple question connected to one of my projects. Suddenly a new feeling came over me. I felt indifferent. At that moment I realised that something profoundly wrong had happened to my personality. It was something I knew I cared about but I was suddenly unable to access any compassion. I walked out of the office, packed up my things, and left. I did not return. 

My identity was completely bound up in my job. Without it, I quickly slid into a murky world in which I could only survive if I drank so much alcohol that I blanked out. I wanted oblivion. I wanted my head to stop spinning, the flashbacks to stop, the accusatory voices telling me I had failed to be silenced.  

My life as I knew it began to unravel, as a giant wrecking ball levelled to the ground anything material, along with any expectations, aspirations, hope, dignity, who I was – all of it went.  

By the time of the new Millenium. I was homeless in London and adrift of any support. I existed in a dense damp fog, with only occasional glimmer from streetlamps where I was able to perceive reality. I continued to drink alcohol to numb the pain. I was by this time physically addicted to it. I do not remember extended periods of that time and I am glad. I have scars that show whatever happened to me, it had not been good.   

Chinks of light 

Somehow, I started to recover. I was housed. I found my way to a 12 Step programme to deal with my alcohol use. I even managed to put my experiences to beneficial use working freelance in healthcare using my story to push for improvement. I was named as one of fifty Inspirational Women Health. I had countless rounds of different forms of therapy. Stable periods were, however, always punctuated by periods of my mind  spinning out of control. Then relapse would occur, and I would be back to square one. It was a state akin to the Myth of Sisyphus. I would push the rock so far then it would fall back down the hill. I could perform at a very high level when I cared enough and could go catatonic with things that didn’t interest me. It was a state in which I was to remain for many years until this year.  

I had another massive relapse this Spring. This proved to be a godsend. I somehow raised the funds for a stay at a private rehabilitation centre after finding out the NHS had no help available to me. I threw myself into the programme there. Among my fellow patients was a young man who had just been diagnosed with ADHD. We were chatting one day, and I mentioned how I found it impossible to issue an invoice after a piece of work – an extremely basic task, and delaying it meant I was paid late. We had so much in common. He found it hard to stay still. He would go off on long verbal tangents etc. I was looking at a mirror of myself. I had heard people with ADHD talking on TV. I heard someone in an AA meeting describe her ADHD and how it made her phobic of making phone calls. That was me! A chance remark on Twitter led to an approach by another woman with ADHD who was struck by the issues I was describing such as finding it almost impossible to do basic paperwork. 

In my third week in rehab, I was given a full assessment by a psychiatrist. He was another of the angels who helped me further along the road. He had no doubt at all that I have ADHD of a combined type. He suggested a course of potential treatment, and at the time of writing, I am trying to arrange this. Although I was already certain I had ADHD, having it confirmed by a professional was a profound experience. When he told me, I felt immediately lighter. I put my head in my hands and cried.  

New beginnings 

Where am I now? I wonder how different my life might have been had I been diagnosed earlier. I might have felt less immersed in toxic shame for being “damaged.”  I might have managed to form more lasting and meaningful relationships. I might have been able to jump from the revolving door of mental health and addictions services earlier. I might have caused my loved ones less worry and pain. There are endless things that might have been. I see the excellent support my niece has for her ADHD, how her unique personality is something to be celebrated. I hope she never feels she must mask to fit into the boxes created by others. I hope she never has to feel like damaged goods. I want her to have a full life in all its colourful glory. And yes, I do feel sad about the time I have lost. 

But I have been given a chance. The door has opened just a chink, just enough for light to stream in. Now I am standing in that light, on the threshold, ready to set off down this new path for however long I have left. Maybe, just maybe, it is not too late to have a new and creative adventure.  

I mean to try. I will start by daring to throw the masks off one by one as I walk one step at a time. I don’t know where this road is heading, but I am ready to find out.  

I am tired of the half-light. I am tired of the half-life.  

Half a life is a life you didn't live, 
A word you have not said 
A smile you postponed 
A love you have not had 
A friendship you did not know 
To reach and not arrive 
Work and not work 
Attend only to be absent 
What makes you a stranger to them closest to you 
and they strangers to you 
The half is a mere moment of inability 
but you are able for you are not half a being 
You are a whole that exists 
to live a life not half a life 
Kahlil Gibran.