I used to think that I was crazy. Why else couldn’t I concentrate on one thing at a time? Or why did I always feel like the only time to do everything was “now”? Why did I have commitment issues in every area of my life? And why was my schedule/calendar always bursting at the seams? Clearly, something was not right in the head with me.

---

Growing up in a Jamaican household, I had long learned to suppress my feelings, desires, and emotions. If it wasn’t about God or a day’s work, it did not get discussed in our home. And to be clear, “a day’s work” also included my family’s desire to have children who were academically successful and far superior to their American counterparts. I didn’t feel like I had the luxury of being basic, mediocre, or average. If I had gotten a 97% on a test, my mother would look at me very matter-of-factly and ask where the other 3% was. As an adult, I understand why she pushed me so hard back then, but young Michelle struggled greatly to live up to the pressure. My “competition” was always the Americans (all of them), my cousins (whom my grandmother loved so dearly, as opposed to me and my siblings), and my past self. I added things to my plate- literally and figuratively- erroneously believing that the busier I was, the better I was. To an extent, I truly believed that if my labor were plentiful, it would be pleasing to my family and also to God.

Unfortunately, this same thought pattern followed me into adulthood and, if I’m being completely honest, it was with me until January 3rd of this year. That day was already special for me because it was the anniversary of when God called me into ministry (2017), but this year it was extra special because it was the day that He told me to sit down. It wasn’t like the old Negro spiritual “Sit down, servant,” offering me eternal rest after a long life’s journey. No, it was instead His way of telling me that if I did not pull back from many of the tasks consuming my schedule and mind, I would end up exactly where I was in 2016- deeply depressed and suicidal, looking for ways to permanently lighten my load. I heard His urgency and immediately drafted three letters of resignation for roles that, though I LOVED them with all that was in me, I was no longer capable of fulfilling. Once I had hit SEND on those emails, I felt relief. Again, I am forever grateful for those positions, but I was burnt out. Unmedicated ADHD, GAD, Depression, and PTSD had me thinking that not only could I handle everything before me, but that it was HEALTHY to be in that constant state of overwhelmed. My body had long since begun its plea for me to be kinder to it, and although I would go to therapy and to doctors’ appointments, I completely ignored every cry that it released.

I was slowly but surely headed back into The Dark Place, and I could feel my sanity slipping more and more with each “YES” that my mouth uttered. ADHD, FOMO, and a general desire not to disappoint people had me truly convinced that it was ok for a newer teacher- regardless of age- to be serving in no less than 10 additional positions outside of my classroom duties. A half-joke that I often shared is that I would do anything for a t-shirt. After amassing more shirts than I could ever wear in a month, I realized that I really wasn’t joking. My overcommitment was so bad that even my wardrobe was begging me to stop. But that’s the thing about ADHD, it gives this false sense of ability, causing people to truly believe that they are invincible and can handle one more thing. Truth is, as long as our attention can hold it (which, ironically, is not long), we will commit to that “one more thing” and then, in what seems like the most abrupt manner, we will drop that thing and move on. It is not lost upon me that even in my own professional and personal circles, I have earned a reputation for being “flaky” or having no follow-through. The reason and the excuse are the same- I am neurodivergent and I have ADHD.

---

It is my opinion that we educators are very tolerant and accepting of neurodiversity when it comes to the students that we teach, but we often lack the same compassion and concern when it is another adult- especially our colleague- who is living with the same neurodiversity. What happened to the scaffolding, the chunking, the frequent breaks, etc., when the person who is neurodivergent is an adult, versus a child? Fun fact, just because we see an adult with neurodiversity does not mean that that person has learned effective ways to live with their condition, or that they have lived their entire life with the diagnosis. For me, I do not recall being given a single diagnosis in my youth. Maybe the doctors told my mother, but the words were never spoken to me. It wasn’t until I was older and on my own insurance plan that I became aware of my neurodiversity. And as a 39-year-old woman, I can honestly admit that it wasn’t until my mid-30s that I truly knew what I needed in my life and what would cause me harm. In fact, each day that God allows me to see is another day that I am learning how to live in a way that is not only good for me, but also not destructive for my loved ones.

When I finally decided to medicate for my ADHD, I had to have LOOOOONNNNGGGG conversations with God because I was terrified that this medication would fail me like the medication for depression did nine years ago. I did not want to become so apathetic that I was a zombie, and I did not want to disconnect from humans so much that I turned to food. I just wanted to be able to have peace in my mind; I wanted to stop feeling like my mind was always running a marathon that my body was not willing and able to compete in. I am VERY grateful that the first medication that was introduced to me seems to be working well with me. As it continues to help me find peace, balance, and the ability to say NO, I look back on the Michelle of the past and profusely apologize to her for not getting her help sooner. Yes, I’ve had some wonderful experiences and seats at unimaginable tables, but at what cost?

---

January 3rd is the day that God saved my life. As we end the month of September, I ask this one thing of you: when confronted with emotions, difficulties, or health/mental health conditions that you cannot understand, instead of judging or condemning the person, praise God that you do have to live their experience. Then, pray for that person as they endure. Many of us face wars within ourselves that will never come to light. Pray for others as they travel through on this journey called life.

Be blessed.