An iceberg: the peak is visible to anyone who gazes upon it, seemingly small and all there is to it. But below the surface of the water lies a huge chunk of ice unseen to those who don't choose to look.
Growing up, I chose to use icebergs as analogies to everything with this general mindset: others don't see everything about me and I don't see everything about them. Even when it comes to projects, thoughts, opinions, conditions, not everyone sees below the surface.
Time locked up in my quarantine household has given me ample time to overthink about my inability to focus. I've had time to reflect and think through the psychological effects of ADHD on both me and others involved in my life.
From the surface level, you see me. A girl who seems capable of a lot but has trouble focusing at times. She is someone who gets really hyperactive really fast and almost seems loopy at random points of the day. She is overly-optimistic sometimes and you wonder what makes her so energetic.
She tends to get distracted easily, asking you random questions, staring into space, or forgetting simple tasks her parents asked her to do.
Growing up, I saw all of this in myself but I didn't see it as a problem. My parents picked at me, joking about how instead of listening to them and doing my work, I was seeing "unicorns" everywhere.
Of course, I knew it was a joke but I couldn't help but wonder "how come I see no unicorns yet I'm getting distracted by anything and everything."
I began to question why people constantly told me to "chill out" when I thought I was just being myself. Did people not like me? And why can't I "chill"? How come that boy I like told me I had too much energy and it freaked him out?
Middle school came like a train. I felt accepted by a select few people who I've grown to love forever. But even they backed away from my craziness.
My brain felt cluttered and disorganized. My best friend was someone I aspired to be: using a daily organizing planner, having her homework in on time, studying every night, getting the grades I thought I deserved.
I wrongly assumed I would be ready for high school.
I was not.
I was really eager to learn and knew that I wanted to take hard classes. But why were they so hard for me to succeed in? Every day I would go home and be fooled into thinking that I was studying very hard just to come to school and not earn the grades I hoped for. In reality, I was so distracted that 70 percent of my time "studying" was spent staring into space thinking about how hard it was to continue focusing.
The hardest part of this time was the constant pain that something was wrong with me. I've always been such a preacher of self-love and here I was hating every part of me because I felt like I wasn't enough and couldn't be enough.
My struggles at the beginning of high school now continue to haunt me as I begin to look into college applications and know that the quantitative aspects of my application are not what they could've been.
And that's the issue. That they could have been better and I believe that I should have done better. Past tense.
There's nothing I can change and yet I think about it daily.
Now I have found professional guidance to my difficulties and I have prescribed medication that helps me focus.
And yet, below the iceberg of focused Sasha, lies a girl who constantly thinks about how much it sucks that she requires extra chemical help to perform as well in school as her peers. She constantly thinks (in the third person apparently) about how much she wishes she had saved some classes for now instead of attempting to take hard classes she was interested in when she was struggling.
Occasionally there are days when I am fooled into thinking that I can actually take hold of myself, not have to take any of my medications and keep all the distracting unicorns out. On those days I am met with what I've heard about my whole life: "What's up with you?" "Jeeeez chill out" "Sasha you're so unfocused today".
And I guess It's partly my fault; I don't tell many people about my ADHD and how much it hurts me that I feel so incompetent.
So to anyone that has ever felt this way, no matter the reason, I get you. Without a little extra help every day I struggle to do what I want, to accomplish everything I dream of, and to have others understand me as well. It's not easy to feel like you aren't enough.
But you are enough. More than enough actually. Because no matter how hard it sometimes is to support that big chunk of the iceberg below the surface, it is your root and part of who you are. It is what supports you and keeps you steady.
Maybe by sharing a bit of how I feel we can take steps to help one another.
As Always,
Stay Happy
(Especially now, you got this!!!)
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