Owning the Story: My Journey with a Learning Disability and ADHD

Accepting our Differences, Finding Strength.

I never owned it like this before. At least out loud.

I hated admitting it. I avoided it like the plague.

I have a learning disability. I was officially diagnosed when I was fourteen. I also have ADHD -inattentive type. I was the one in the back of the class, looking out the window and daydreaming (usually about some adventure) or stuttering when the teacher asked a question, likely not paying ‘attention’ because my mind was following wherever its laser beam of a flashlight pointed… again, probably an adventure.

Early Signs and Challenges

The learning disability and ADHD were hard to discern; for ADHD it’s not the type most people think of when they hear ADHD. I wasn’t impulsive, I was usually extremely well-behaved and could sit still for hours just daydreaming. (A strength, if you’re running ultras or on the treadmill for hours.)

My teachers always felt there was more but, assignments were late, my writing messy, I was unorganized, and often late to class. Daydreaming in class.

I had and have a lot of difficulties following a single conversation in groups where many people are talking; my attention pulls me toward other discussions, sounds, sights. My organization skills and ability to procrastinate and then hyper-focus on a project were classic symptoms.

I easily engage in “procrastivity,” finding something less important to do. And don’t get me near Instagram and a bunch of reels.

I’ll start reading a book – and a paragraph in, my attention drifts elsewhere, maybe it’s to the bills I’ve got to pay, the dog barking outside, or an urge to check the weather for my run later in the day. The same goes for writing. And details! The details of grammar and spelling go out the window. Lord, if I must proof-read something.

Projects were in pieces, started, important ones finished often at the last minute. Deadlines are nice when they’re tomorrow.

Growing up my balance and coordination were off, years passed before I figured out how to skip. All common with ADHD. I still struggle if I think too much about it (which leg first?). Team sports were a challenge. Individual sports like climbing and running – so much better.

The Diagnostic Experience

It took a while to get a diagnosis, when I was in the second grade I was tested, and they found no indication of a learning disability. I was tested again in the middle of my freshman year of high school after a semester of extremely poor grades. Then the ah-ha… better testing, better tester.

Back then the resources were limited compared to the wraparound services available now (which are still not great, but better). I got untimed testing, which wasn’t worth much, other than it takes the pressure off - add anxiety to the mix and things get much worse. I had access to a high school “resource center” – which was useless - and a phenomenal tutor, Mrs. Prince, a godsend who believed in me. No medication. Back then it was only prescribed to those with hyperactivity and my ADHD was not fully recognized.

The concepts of learning disability and ADHD weren’t understood as they are today. Neurodiversity wasn’t even a term until long after I finished graduate school in 1998. Back then, there were few resources and a lot of “buck up” and “work harder” messages.

Rethinking Disability

Disability. No. I don’t like to think of it that way. We must move past that terminology, it’s shaming. It’s learning and paying attention differently than the norm, the “norm” being a small spot at the top of a bell curve.

There’s a spectrum of learning, thinking, feeling, and behaving, something our society has a lot of difficulty grasping. We want everything neat and orderly. Real life is messy and complicated.

Academic Journey

I made it through high school and undergrad just barely, and I went on to two graduate programs where my performance was stellar, because most of the topics weren’t boring and my art of test taking was perfected.

I never fully admitted I needed help or that this was an issue. After high school I never sought help again. I “soldiered through.” When I struggled, I struggled biggly. In undergrad I should have dropped the Western Civilization course with a professor whose thick British accent I couldn’t understand, or the third-term calculus professor who erased equations as he went along and never handed out a syllabus. But my way was to push through. I don’t recommend this. There are better paths.

Still, that perseverance gave me strength.

I excelled at organic chemistry when everyone else struggled, the professor was funny and charismatic, that’s why. I procrastinate on boring, meaningless tasks, but I can get lost for weeks in the details of the Krebs cycle or on research about the psychology of ultra-running or one-on-one work with a client. That’s a different story, it’s quiet, no distractions, I’m with you using tools I’m skilled at.

The Weight of Shame

Shame was powerful. Shame kept me from admitting my struggles. I tried to mask it, to fit in with neurotypical peers. I thought I was succeeding; I’m sure it was obvious to some.

I was “caught” a few times, usually with a tone suggesting I had better “get it together” and little or no offer of support. Once, by a professor ironically in school social work (my lowest grade was a B), and another time by my internship supervisor (again, school social work). No real help or guidance, just a comment and a push to “do better.”

Shame is a nasty feeling. It comes from unworthiness and not belonging. For me, it started early: a second-grade teacher dumped my messy desk in front of the class. I fought with my father over a book report I wrote late at night. I dropped balls in the outfield and was picked last for PE. I felt something was different about me, something wrong.

A seventh-grade teacher gave credit to teams of students who spelled correctly, creating peer pressure to learn to spell. I got bullied intensely because of it. The ‘do better’ or get beat up is not a healthy mindset.

Finding My Place

Thank goodness my high school had an outdoor education program - I naturally gravitated toward rock climbing, mountaineering, and later running.

Instructing at Outward Bound years later - I had begun my path.

Classes that were interesting or taught by charismatic teachers were where I excelled: geology, psychology, geometry, even just one English class. Mr. Fruhworth was amazing. After a semester, he was gone, maybe he was different, too.

Then came Outward Bound, a life-changing program that fueled my resilient spirit. Twenty-three days in the backcountry with complete strangers, backpacking, rock-climbing, and white-water canoeing. I could develop peer relations in ways I never had. A spark of leadership skills I never knew existed!

They saw my strengths as a person, and I started seeing them too.

Challenges in the Professional World

I never lost a job because of my differences. My strengths always outweighed these difficulties - I was late more times than I could count, even working from home. I procrastinated on boring projects (I’m still cringing and flinching at some of them). You’ll never see me write policies and procedures on meaningless topics of a call-center, but I’ll certainly comment if they get so complex that someone with ADHD would want to rip their eyes out. I also couldn’t handle multitasking, especially in group chats with multiple questions thrown at me. That wasn’t a good environment for me…but that was something I had to learn.

Strengths and Acceptance

It was likely from that Outward Bound experience where I honed the strength of a growth mindset. Our abilities aren’t fixed. We have more strengths in us than we can imagine. We also must be open to failure so we can learn…and get out of the downward spiral that is shame.

Kurt Hanh the founder of Outward Bound said that within your disability is your ability. While learning disabilities and ADHD are not superpowers, they can highlight your superpower if you pay attention. Look for them. Dig a bit.

I have other qualities that compensate like connecting with people, clients, developing rapport, seeing things differently, and being attuned to others. My hyperfocus has led me toward work I love. I didn’t know that all those deep dives into sport psychology or running would eventually shape my career. The ability to “push-through” or “find a way” has helped me so many times in so many aspects. I know more is inside inherently and I won’t give up.

I may not always be poetic, I may scramble for words, and it may take me forever to write a blog or get lost in meetings, but those other skills are there…

Owning the Story

Here’s the deal: when we own our story, we write the ending.

When we’re self-aware, open and accepting of ourselves, our own true, unique self, when we hold ourselves kindly and compassionately, and when we move towards a growth mindset, we gain power. We can do more of what matters.

Owning the story is acknowledging the truth of the experiences. It’s taking authorship instead of playing the victim. It’s letting go of shame through self-compassion. It’s living aligned with your values and strengths.

It ain’t been easy. But the more I come to ‘owning the story’ the more control I have of this story, and likely you will too.