Having lived with undiagnosed ADHD until late in life when frankly it was far too late to do anything about it, I would not wish it upon anyone else. I know some ignoramuses suggest the condition is “fashionable” these days, as if people are queuing up to be diagnosed like it was a fashion item and I regard the comments as deeply insulting. My diagnosis provided with me with an explanation as to why I was once described by a school teacher as having a “butterfly mind”, being easily distracted, lacking in concentration and being unable to digest even the most straightforward of instructions and learnings. That continues today, illustrated just a few weeks ago when the family decided to play a board game and I had to stand aside because I could not follow what I was supposed to do. That’s embarrassing enough for a youngster, never mind someone close to old age. But there is something that pisses me off big time and that’s when fellow ADHD-ers describe the condition as their “superpower”.
This week I read an article by Emma John in The Guardian in which she questioned whether it was true that ADHD was a superpower for athletes. I found the whole notion ridiculous. The mop-haired England rugby player Ellie Kildunne did refer to her ADHD as a “superpower” because of the hyperfocus it gave her, to quote John, “the ability to lose themselves entirely, whether in training or competition, to the exclusion of all else.” In my experience, ADHD has the exact opposite effect: far from giving someone a hyperfocus on something, it removes any kind of focus at all. “I like chaos,” said Kildunne. “That’s just the way I’m wired.” If that was literally true, I doubt that she’d be playing for a Sunday morning team, given the complex structures involved with rugby union, but it makes a good story, doesn’t it?
The swimmer Adam Peaty says much the same thing. ADHD, he said, contributes both to his “relentless drive” and more self-destructive impulses. In so far that many people who have ADHD do obsess on certain things to the exclusion of all others, there can be no doubt but in my life that’s been no superpower, not least because the things I obsess on could be said to be of little to no value to a rich and successful life. Imagine going through life never being able to understand basic instructions like setting up equipment (I had a new clock radio for Christmas and as of today 13th April I have still not had the confidence to set it up) and a total inability to carry out basic arithmetic (to this day, I cannot carry out short or even long division, even with a calculator because I can’t remember the formula to do it). Perhaps, wealthy sporting superstars can pay others to do these basic parts of life: I can’t.
Perhaps, if I had been diagnosed early in life, things might have been better and different. I know there are certain drugs that alleviate the worst aspects of ADHD, in a similar way to the antidepressants I use that help me get through life in as “normal” a way as possible. But I wasn’t and I had to suffer – and I use the word advisedly – from teachers at school and managers at work who just thought I was a lazy sod who didn’t give a toss. I shall never forget my woodwork teacher’s anger when I started laughing when he caught his apron in a vice, causing the buttons to fly everywhere. Well, it was funny, but he saw it as an opportunity to launch into a verbal assault at my inability to follow any of his teaching. He sent me out of his classroom as a punishment. I carried on walking home. And at work, I was sent to work on a section where complex benefits were administered. Despite a lengthy training course and mentoring from colleagues, I never had a clue. I will never forget the venom I endured from the manager for something that was way beyond my control. Superpower? Do me a favour.
At least Peaty was able to understand that while his “relentless drive” may have benefited his swimming career, it also contributed to his more self-destructive tendencies. I can say with 100% certainty that it contributed massively to my own. And it is not an exaggeration to say that at times my undiagnosed ADHD and clinical depression wrecked my prospects, certainly in education and in work.
After my own diagnosis, I saw my GP and what he said was this: “There’s nothing I can do about it. There’s no therapy or even basic counselling available. You’re on too many drugs already to I can’t give you anymore. And you’re not in the first flush of you so just get on with the rest of your life.” Not the exact words, but in spirit this is exactly what he said. He might as well have concluded with: “Now fuck off and don’t darken my door again.” I don’t think he did – he’s quite a nice bloke – but those are the words I heard.
Doubtless, the rich and famous, including top athletes, can afford the necessary assistance in order to well in life and, I suppose, if I was rich and famous, I might have gone down that road, but I wasn’t. The medical profession, nor anyone else for that matter, never picked up on why I was the way I am. It really, really angers me when I hear some blasé comment from someone saying just how great their ADHD has been for them.
Mental health and neurological conditions are at the bottom of the heap in Britain today. You are supposed to pull yourself together and concentrate even if it’s completely impossible to do so.
No one would ever say that cancer was a superpower, but apparently it’s perfectly okay to refer to conditions like ADHD as one. This superpower nonsense insults everyone who struggles through life with what is often a painful and debilitating condition. It’s only a superpower if you regard Kryptonite as Superman’s superpower, which is to say it isn’t a superpower at all: it’s a slow killer. Trust me: I know.
