The Realization of My Diagnosis

The real question here for me is where to start.. Excuse me if this jumps around quite a bit!

First, let me start by introducing myself officially. Hey there! My name is Eri (like the lake). I have an amazing 4-year-old son who I will call "A" on here to protect his privacy, a loving, but sometimes difficult lol, husband, and two awesome pain in my.... you get the point.. dogs.

I suppose I will start with this year, 2023. In April after seeing my Psychiatrist for about a year and trying another MILLION medications, I finally was started on a medication that was actually for ADHD. I had been dealing with ADHD paralysis, which was diagnosed as Major Depression for years, with no long-term relief being achieved with anti-depressants, and several anxiety disorders, which actually in part turned out to be severe Rejection Sensitivity Disorder (or RSD), as well as a handful of other things. I'm quite sure that everyone coming to this page, or most has dealt with some level or another of mis- or missed diagnosis.

When I was prescribed this medicine I had no hope that it would work. None of the others had, why would it be different? She ordered me the lowest dose and set an appointment for the next week to check in and see how I was doing on it. The first morning I took it I didn't think it was doing anything. I went about my day, disappointed yet again, because I told her I would try it for at least a week. I was driving down the road and suddenly a wave of AWFUL anxiety came over me. You know that feeling where you know something is wrong, but can't figure out "WHAT", yeah, that was me. I instantly started checking my gas level, and dash on my car, thinking it has to be something on my car. I mean, I'm fine and so is my son. When I looked over at my radio, I realized it was off. This might not mean anything to some, but as someone who was diagnosed at 25 with ADHD and Autism, music is how I have not only survived but coped, with the constant roaring in my head and the overwhelming stimulation that I can't control.

Then it hit me and all I could do was laugh until I started crying. My radio was off. My son wasn't screaming or crying.. and I was feeling anxious because it was quiet... which meant, the medicine was working.

Now, I have been on this medicine since April 2023, which is about 9 months. Those first three months were honestly a rollercoaster ride of emotions. What no one told me about finally getting a diagnosis so late is that you do go through all of the stages of grief and Oh boy, did I go through those stages hard..

First stage- Denial:

When I got the medication, like I said, I refused to think it would work. Each day I was waiting for it to magically stop working, like every other one did. By the time I got a couple of months in and was on the same dose for over a month, I realized that it wasn't going to just not work anymore one day. Not unless my body's tolerance got too high for it to be as effective or to seem ineffective. In addition to the denial of the medication's ability to make me, I don't know... FUNCTION? I was also in denial about a couple of other things... One of these is the fact that I am Autistic. Now, I wasn't in denial because I didn't want a diagnosis because I saw it as a negative, I just couldn't believe that I could be Autistic and no one would have missed it this long. While the ADHD meds worked great for my ADHD, I became very aware that I was using my ADHD as an "excuse?" for a lot of my Autism symptoms. I could no longer do that, and I could no longer ignore them by keeping myself constantly distracted either. I was already doing TONS of research for my son because he is AuDHD as well, so I started slowly implementing some of the tools from that research into my treatment and what do you know... It worked. The second of these things is that those without ADHD and Autism or even just one or the other, don't have to try so hard for everything... When my medication is working, I don't have to have something outside the house to do if I need to get out of bed. I just wait for it to kick in, then I... get out of bed. I didn't have to spend hours on end studying the same thing because I just could NOT get it to stick... I would study it till I understood it then it was just there.. in my brain, waiting to be needed. All of these things quickly led me to the next stage. Anger.

Second Stage- Anger:

When I hit the anger stage I had to isolate quite a bit to make sure I didn't hurt the people I still love and care about because it was uncontrollable at times. I was so mad at everyone who raised me. How did you miss this? Did you not care? Why did you not SEE it? WHY did you not get me HELP?! I was angry at the fact that I could have accomplished SO MUCH by now, and instead, I watched all of my younger family members graduate high school, then college, or they went straight into the field of their dreams and were able to stay there and climb into higher and better positions. I wasn't mad at their success, let me clarify, I was mad that I went so long struggling and trying so much harder than anyone I know... and still couldn't even keep a job? I was pissed at all the time I lost before a doctor FINALLY actually listened to me and I had someone like my husband to push me to keep going back to her.

Third Stage- Bargaining:

I don't remember a lot of this stage but two things do stand out in my memory. I specifically remember sitting in my car one day and asking a higher power, to NEVER let my son feel the way I felt growing up and as an adult. Never let him deal with the things I did just because I have a few differences in my brain. Never let him have to deal with doctor after doctor, psychiatrist after psychiatrist, and "friend" after "friend" not believing him just because it doesn't look the same as it presents in the DSM. I also remember, I'm sure in that same conversation, asking for an answer to why I still felt so alone, even around the people who loved me the most.

Fourth Stage- Depression:

Depression looked a lot different once I was medicated. Before medication, it was literal days in bed, sleeping and ignoring everything, trying to ignore the pain. Once I got to this stage on medication, it was more like withdrawing, feeling alone in a crowded room, feeling so misunderstood it would make me cry as soon as I got to a place I felt I could. It took everything in me to not just get in my car, fill the tank with every penny I had, and leave everything behind.

Fifth stage- Acceptance:

Acceptance felt like a drug to me. I realized it didn't matter who understood or believed my diagnosis. I realized that even though it was missed for so long, and my own mother couldn't understand or believe it, I finally had an answer and could start working with myself. Start accommodating myself, and start standing up for myself and my son. Even scared. I also realized that those who didn't believe me. even after I explained, didn't deserve my time. There have been a few exceptions to this, but due to my acceptance I have now cut off several fake friends, I have gone toe to toe with medical professionals about what is best for my son and told them why they were wrong while handing them the NIH articles to prove it, I have gotten myself and my son the treatments that work best for US, not the easier ones, or the ones that require less paperwork, or are less "risky" for the doctors. I have become an advocate, even in the moments when I am terrified to be one. I now do what I want and what I need to, even if my voice shakes.