Finding My Focus: Writing Through the Haze of ADHD
It’s incredibly frustrating when you have a clear vision in your mind but struggle to translate it onto paper. I know that feeling all too well — the endless loop of replaying ideas, refining thoughts, and convincing myself that I’ll start soon. My brain has a knack for taking the scenic route to reach even the simplest point.
I can’t begin to count the number of times I’ve mentally written this piece, only to find myself doing everything but actually writing it. Deep cleaning the house for hours suddenly became a top priority, as if dusting shelves could somehow organize my thoughts. It’s almost comical how declaring my intent to write instantly awakened my inner procrastinator.
But today, something shifted. I finally gathered enough focus and determination to sit down and let the words flow. So here I am — ready to share my journey with ADHD, the moments that shaped it, and the coping strategies I’ve discovered along the way. My hope is that by opening up, I can help others feel a little less alone in the beautifully chaotic process of navigating a mind that never sits still.
Schooling
Looking Back: A Different Kind of Student
I wasn’t what you’d call a great student — though I desperately wanted to be. I wanted to be as bright and capable as Wyatt, the smartest kid I knew. In the beginning, things went fairly well, but before long, I started hearing the same familiar phrases: “You could do better if you applied yourself,” and “You’re smart, you just need to stay organized.” I wish I had known then what I understand now.
I was diagnosed with ADD as a child, but because I was managing “well enough,” there didn’t seem to be a reason for medication or additional support. What no one realized was that those very supports could have made all the difference. With the right tools, I might have been able to apply myself more fully, stay organized, and focus instead of chatting through class or disappearing into the pages of a book when I should have been paying attention.
I often catch myself wondering how different things might have been if my needs had been recognized for what they were — not laziness or distraction, but symptoms of something that needed understanding, not discipline. Maybe my academic path would have been smoother, maybe more successful. But even in reflection, I’ve come to see that those struggles shaped my resilience and my empathy — qualities I now value far more than perfect grades.
The Cégep Chapter: Pushing Through the Storm
My time at Cégep was, to put it mildly, a challenge. It often felt like a solitary journey, marked by a lack of guidance and structure that made keeping up with coursework feel almost impossible. I was constantly fighting to stay afloat, spending twice as long as my classmates just to grasp the same material. Balancing that academic struggle with a full-time job, maintaining relationships, and adapting to a new city added layers of pressure that at times felt unbearable. The odds felt stacked against me, and more than once, success seemed like a distant dream.
Today, things are different. Since starting medication, I’ve noticed changes I never thought possible. I can study with my kids playing around me — laughter, chaos, and all — and still stay focused. I can read a paragraph once and truly understand it, instead of rereading the same lines over and over again while my thoughts drift elsewhere.
It’s remarkable how much difference the right support can make. Being able to focus, learn, and remain present in the world around me feels like a gift I didn’t realize I was missing. These moments — the small, steady victories — have had a profound impact on my confidence and well-being.
Hindsight is 20/20, and I’ll never know how different things might have been if I’d been given this help earlier. But one thing is certain: I wouldn’t be where I am today, academically or personally, without the growth that came from facing those challenges head-on.
Lets take a minute to to over how ADHD effects my life
Time Management: Racing the Clock
Despite my best efforts, the anxiety of being late is something that has followed me for years. No matter how early I start getting ready, I somehow still find myself running behind. It’s a cycle that can be both frustrating and exhausting.
Since beginning medication, though, my sense of time has shifted. I’m finding it easier to pace myself, to plan ahead, and to actually arrive on time without the same crushing stress and panic. The anxiety still lingers, but it no longer controls me. The moments of calm and clarity are growing, replacing chaos with something that feels like balance — or at least, my version of it.
Disorganization: My Lifelong Nemesis
If there’s one thing that has followed me my entire life, it’s disorganization. My childhood bedroom, my school locker, my Cégep apartment, my car — every space I’ve ever occupied has carried my personal brand of chaos. I could never understand how other people managed to keep everything clean, structured, and on schedule. Well, now I know — most of them didn’t have ADHD.
Since starting treatment, things have improved. My home is tidier, the kids’ clothes are (usually) clean, and we’re actually ready for the next day more often than not. It feels like a small miracle.
Still, I’ve learned to find humor and even a little beauty in the chaos. Living with ADHD can feel like constantly existing in a whirlwind — where your belongings develop minds of their own and you occasionally find a missing sock in the fridge. But amid the mess, there’s creativity. I’ve come to see my cluttered spaces as an unintentional art form — a living exhibit of “organized chaos.”
Sure, my version of cleaning might involve strategic tidying and selective effort, but it works. It’s not perfection — it’s personality. And I’ve learned that a home filled with love, laughter, and a bit of beautiful disorder is far better than one that’s spotless but sterile.
Feeling Overwhelmed: The Weight of It All
“Overwhelmed” doesn’t even begin to cover it. Since becoming a mother, that feeling has been a near-constant companion. Anxiety would build until it consumed me — leading to moments where I’d raise my voice, not out of anger, but out of sheer exhaustion and helplessness. Every night, I’d promise myself that tomorrow would be better. That I’d wake up refreshed, patient, and calm. But most mornings began on the edge of a panic attack, and the cycle would start all over again.
Medication changed that. The difference has been nothing short of life-changing. My children feel it too — the warmth, the peace, the laughter that’s returned to our home. Where they once preferred being at their father’s house, they now resist leaving mine. That realization alone brings tears to my eyes.
It’s incredible how something so small — the right medication, the right support — can shift an entire life. For the first time in years, I feel like the mother I always wanted to be: present, patient, and connected.
History of Anxiety and Depression
Anxiety has always been the quiet undertone of my life — sometimes whispering, other times screaming. It used to weave through everything I did, tinting even joyful moments with worry. Explaining it has always been hard, because anxiety itself convinces you that you’re not explaining it “right.” But since beginning medication, that ever-present tension has softened. I can finally take a deep breath without feeling like it’s borrowed air.
Low Self-Esteem and Healing
My struggle with low self-esteem has been a long and painful journey, closely intertwined with my history of anorexia. During my divorce, I hit one of my lowest points, both mentally and physically. I weighed 116 pounds, and while I was unwell, I found comfort in the illusion of control. I equated thinness with worth, mistaking fragility for strength.
Today, I’m in a much healthier place — my weight is between 135 and 140 pounds — but that doesn’t mean the mental battle is over. Some days, I still struggle to see beauty in the mirror. The thoughts creep in, whispering that I’m “too much” or “not enough.” But I’m learning to quiet those voices. Each day, I remind myself that my worth isn’t tied to a number on a scale.
Progress isn’t linear, and healing takes time. But for the first time in a long time, I’m choosing grace over guilt, compassion over criticism, and self-love — even when it doesn’t come easily.
Embracing the Quirks
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on how far I’ve come and how much my understanding of ADHD has evolved. I used to be strongly against the idea of taking medication. I thought I was managing just fine — juggling everything, spinning every plate, keeping it together. But in reality, I wasn’t truly living life the way others seemed to.
Then, life surprised me. Now that I’m on medication, it feels as if I’ve finally been let in on the secret of what “normal” actually feels like. I can breathe. I can follow a train of thought all the way to its destination. My home feels calmer, more put together, and my children — perhaps the best measure of all — are happier. It’s as though I’m finally meeting the best version of myself, one that was always there, just waiting to be understood.
For me, Cymbalta has been a quiet miracle. Originally prescribed for fibromyalgia, it’s become a powerful ally in managing my anxiety, depression, and ADHD. It’s incredible how one small change can bring balance to so many moving parts of your life.
I’m learning to live by a new motto: “Treat yourself like you would treat your best friend, because you’re stuck with yourself for the long haul.” My kids seem to have grasped this wisdom faster than I have, but I’m catching up — slowly, steadily, and with grace.
Here’s to embracing the quirks, the chaos, and the calm — all the parts that make us who we are.
Thanks for coming along on this ADHD journey withme.
Kylla Bowbrick Life Services 