From One Simple Question, I Discovered I Love My Brain

Image by author

Some reactions are so immediate, they launch from the torso, fly high, with never a thought to ask our permission whether it’s okay to feel what they feel. These are the emotional truths of us. They live in a small community of truths, far under the radar, until one day — Launch Day — we discover their existence.

Whoa, we whisper, that’s how I feel? That’s what I think?

Surprise reactions.

These moments stretch a lifetime and tell us who we really are underneath our hairy, everyday persona. I had a Launch Day recently, and I’m still amazed by it. It was at my annual physical exam.

Since I switched to a new practice closer to home, I first had to go through a review of my medical history. The nurse practitioner settled into a chair across from me and proceeded to confirm my relevant medications, surgeries, and medical conditions dating back decades or possibly centuries. It sure seemed like it.

For example, “fatigue” and “rash”. Fatigue? Aren’t we all fatigued at some point? I had the nurse giggling a few times as she cleaned up the list. Yes, keep the knee reconstruction. Yes, keep the shoulder surgery. And, unfortunately, keep the seizures, as adapting to a workable medication has been a hassle of late. But, no, she could drop the toenail ache from 1876. My point is, this process, for the most part, was boring.

Then she went to the next condition listed in my history.

“ADHD?”

Out of nowhere, with no heads-up and no explanation, my body released a full-on burst of unmistakable joy. It was so split-second, so clear, and so real.

“Yes! I have ADHD! Definitely keep that one!” Meaning, don’t you dare erase ADHD from me.

I sat back and stared with dumbfounded awe at what my body just told me loud and clear. I was proud and happy to have the brain I have.

Are you thinking, “????” ?

I’m still sort of thinking the same thing, but I’m also thinking, “Duh.”

That’s because of all I know about ADHD now, and about my collection of traits, which has been both a challenge in my life but also an unmistakable gift of existence. It’s what all bodies provide in this life: challenge and gift, blessing and curse, lesson and wisdom. John Ratey, MD, a top voice in the ADHD field, likes to remind us that neurodiverse brains aren’t broken; they exist on the human spectrum of brain wiring.

In that exam room, it was clear to me that I’m happy about my wiring. I already knew I was grateful for many parts of me, but I wouldn’t have predicted I’d be so overjoyed at that simple question. It felt like the wise person who lives deep within me, who barely speaks up but instead guides in silence, was busting out and throwing a party for the person I am and who I’ve been all along.

It was saying, Girl, you got lucky. Let’s party.

I would add, We’re all lucky.

Given all the self-doubt out there, the imposter syndrome swirling, the dejection and self-loathing, and the way we keep ourselves at arm’s length so often, I’m a little shocked at my reaction to that nurse’s question. I don’t have a history of being thrilled with myself, but I’ve certainly been on a journey of self-acceptance and self-awareness for many years now, the deeper I dive into coaching.

The world is a productivity machine and needs to keep upping the ante, which requires us to keep upping our value. How could we possibly up our value if we were happy with who we are as-is? What we miss here is that we can accomplish all we want and be happy with ourselves as-is. Both can be true. This would be where we summon Carol Dweck’s growth mindset, of course. We’re lesson/learning/personal growth machines.

Make no mistake, I’m clear that the fast brain of ADHD has its ups and downs, especially regarding emotion regulation and, for some, impulsivity. But the fast neural connections that happen in an ADHD brain also think up some incredible things. Curiosity is like oxygen for us — we breathe both to stay alive. Time spent steeped in high curiosity is a beautiful thing. You can’t express enough gratitude for such an extravagance of the mind.

Those whose brains are wired outside the norm might be extra friendly or sensitive. We might be fast to act or big-picture pausers. We can be found hyper-focusing on some deep stuff or flying around an urgent situation, solving much and consoling many. Our eagerness is admirable. Our loyalty is honorable. Our keen interest is super cool. These are things you don’t want expunged from the record of you, even if the record is a list of the medically problematic.

It’s easy to explain how ADHD can be hard, but in my opinion, it’s harder to describe how it feels when our “condition” is shining bright. It’s quite shiny. And this is no different for anyone, diagnosed with something or not. We all have our strengths, and they make life so bright that it dawns on you why we invented sunglasses.

I often say that if I were to pinpoint one gift I wish I could leave each of my coaching clients, it’d be this: each brain is remarkable. In what ways is yours?

I like that question because it’s open-ended but presumptive. Yes, we are each extraordinary in our own way. So, now, what’s your unique way? I think the closer we move toward recognizing, using, and reveling in our unique way, the faster we might react to the nurse in the exam room who wants to know if she should expunge who we truly are from the record.

Hell no, I say.

Our life’s history has so much to it which we’ll, sadly, never know or remember. It’s fair to say there’s plenty that would amaze us if we could watch our history, sitting in a movie theater with popcorn or what have you, our life on the screen, a movie we’re likely never prepared for.

With my gluten-free snacks, I’d watch myself so shy in many scenes, but who then weathered through. On the flip side, there’d be scenes where I had no qualms about walking up to strangers in need, to help them, or just to talk. I’d notice myself laughing in the movie more than I knew I had and crying less than I figured. I’d see how I stayed busy and wanted to do well, but also how I worried too many times. Then there’d be all the distraction.

I’d see how much I never gave myself credit for. I’d see so clearly how I succeeded at hard things that flew right by my recognition. As I’d sit in that hypothetical theater, watching my creative mind always in search, I’d be brought to tears. I’d learn, as I emptied the snack bag, that it’s one thing to know you value kindness, respect, and thoughtfulness, but quite another to watch it play out.

Why would you ever want this deleted from your record? You wouldn’t.

I didn’t.

---

Have a lovely week, friends.