And all this time, it wasn’t my fault. My brain is simply wired differently.
At first, I didn’t want to believe it. Or maybe I wouldn’tletmyself believe it. I kept hearing my father’s voice in my head, the one that always told me I’m not trying, that I needed to work harder. Part of me wondered if I was looking for an excuse. Like a get-out-of-jail-free card for the ways I mess everything up.
But the more I read, the harder it became to deny. It was eerily specific, uncannily familiar. The forgetfulness. Distraction. Impulsiveness. Overwhelm. Intense emotions. Time blindness… I thought these were moral failings, things I could fix if I onlytried harder, but they’re traits. Traits of ADHD.
Seeing it all in black and white, seeing a legitimate explanation for why life feels so much harder for me than everyone else… I can’t describe the relief.
That maybe I’m not a walking disaster, despite what teachers, friends, my father have always thought.
I cried again for a long time after that. The relief was too much to contain. I thought of all the time I spent beating myself up. All the times I let others tell me I wasn’t trying. All the ways I’d tried to make myself fit into a mold that wasn’t made for me.
And when I found this website that described ADHD as a superpower, I was intrigued. It talked about the benefits of “hyperfocus.” Yep, it turns out there’s a name for that state where I get so involved in a task that I lose track of time. It explained the gift of deep feeling, how much more creative ADHD people tend to be. All theseotherparts of me that actually, when I stop to think about it, I quite like. Parts I wouldn’t want to change.
This is only the beginning, and I need to get an official diagnosis, which I haven’t looked into yet, but I will. I have so much more to learn, but even with what I’ve already read… I feel like a different person.
No. Thesameperson, only with a better understanding of how my brain works.
I glance at my phone again, looking through the notifications from the last couple days. Nothing from Aidan, and I try to ignore the plunge of disappointment I feel. It doesn’t make sense, not after the way he humiliated me in front of the team. Mortification washes through me as I think of the look on Tash’s face, the pity in Dani’s eyes. Add to that the messages from Dad… My gut churns as I try to imagine walking back in there. I know I can’t hide forever, but—
My phone buzzes in my hand, lighting up with a text from the group chat.
Poppy: Anyone free for coffee?
I chew my lip as I read the text. I haven’t spoken to them since we went for dinner last week, and I certainly haven’t told them about how everything blew up with Aidan. They’ve all got such wonderful lives. What would they think of me?
Three dots appear as someone replies, and it occurs to me once again they’re going out of their way to include me. Poppy could have messaged the others directly, but she didn’t. Despite myself, warmth seeps through my chest at the realization.
Violet: I can sneak away for a bit!
Daisy: My shift finishes soon, meet at Joe’s in an hour?
Poppy: Perfect, see you then!
My fingers itch to reply. I want to go, even after the roller coaster of the past few days, or maybe because of it. Because I’ve been stuck in my head, cooped up in my tiny apartment. BecauseI could use some time with friends. Could use a laugh. And I could really,reallyuse one of Poppy’s cupcakes.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I type out a reply.
Iris: I’d love to join, if that’s okay?
My finger hovers over the send button, then I delete the message to start over. I’m in the text group. They invited me. I don’t need to ask. Instead, I send an enthusiastic reply.
Iris: Count me in!
Daisy and Violet heart the message, followed by a GIF from Poppy—Jake Peralta sayingNoice!It makes me grin. I mentioned I was a fan ofBrooklyn 99, and didn’t expect her to remember, but I’ve underestimated these three quite a lot, haven’t I?
I put my phone down to get ready, looking forward to coffee with my friends. Relieved to have a distraction from dealing with work and my father, at least for a few hours.
My stomach pitchesas I exit the subway at Clark Street. I was so excited to be invited for coffee that I didn’t consider how close Joe’s is to the office.
Or how much it reminds me of Aidan.
I push into the coffee shop with a heavy heart. Last time I was here, I was ordering coffee for us, in a bubble of love and happiness after our weekend together.
A bubble that burst the moment I walked into Dad’s office, I remind myself, pushing thoughts of Aidan away. I spy Poppy and Violet at a table in the back corner. They wave me over with a grin. The place is packed, and I thread through the crowd to the table, where Violet rises to pull me into a hug, followed by Poppy.
“I’m so glad you could come!” she says, as I sink into a chair. “We all live nearby, but I realized I don’t actually know where you live.”
“I’m in Queens.”
