Learning that I had ADHD removed the illusion of control by accident.
Before Diagnosis: Every micro-interest felt like a portal. I followed impulses and discovered self. Cycles of hyperfocus felt like meaning. Hobbies were self-justifying.
After Diagnosis: Interests became symptoms. Hobbies became coping mechanisms. Excitment becamse diopamine dysregulation. Restlessness became executive dysfunction.
In other words: It stopped being enchanted and started being clinical.
I’m still grieving. I didn’t even realize I had an identity collapse. My past self gets reinterpreted. Present self feels fraudulent, and my future self feels uncertain. I miss not knowing. I didn’t have to explain myself to myself. Everything now is self-management.
I wanted this, however. What is wrong with me?! I asked the universe a million times. Now I have my answer. I treat it like a problem that needs to be solved. Something that I need to fix. It’s a dopamine deficiency. Why would I have room for dopamine when my body is flooded with stress hormones? If I correct that, I will make room for dopamine. Problem solved. It’s that simple, in theory, but not easy.
Adhedonia is my new default setting. ADHD + depression overlap. ADHD wants dopamine/novelty. Depression removes the reward feeling. ADHD says nothing is interesting, so nothing gets started. And depression says nothing matters. I end up in analysis paralysis.
I have to be kind to myself. This is not a moral failure. I’m not failing, or lazy, or unraveling. I’m overstimulated, undermotivated, undersupported, physically sick (again), and cognitively overloaded. I’m still managing my life at a level a lot of people would crumble under. Honestly, I am operating at a level that I couldn’t even dream of 20 years ago. So my brain is doing triage, not collapse.
Nostalgia is a time when you knew your place. I feel nostalgia for 10 years ago. I just went vegan. I was in control of something for the first time. I was falling in love with cooking and meal prepping. Content binging. Falling in love with my YouTubers that helped me get started. I can feel the wanderlust from travel vlogs. The dopamine I got from potential. I saw the world differently. It wasn’t dark and full of terrors. It was full of wonder again. I felt alive. I fell in love with nature, and then, in turn, myself. I want that spark back. I want to feel alive again. I want to be excited about something.
I will get there. I am running on fumes, but I can still ignite something in me. The grieving process only ends one way: acceptance. I’m still in the bargaining and denial stage. My nervous system doesn’t want me to change, but I keep putting myself through it. Blah
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