ADHD, Fear, and the Moment Everything Made Sense — Since I Was Nine
Content Note: This post discusses ADHD, trauma, medical experiences, and anxiety.
________________________________________________________________
I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was nine years old, back when I was living with my aunt. I was put on medication for about a year, but it never actually helped me. I always felt off and tired. Eventually, I stopped taking it—not only because it didn’t help, but also because of the environment I was growing up in.
My biological family was struggling with drug use, and I didn’t feel safe having medication around that could be misused. I didn’t want it to become part of that chaos.
Later, when I was living with the Whites, I found out I had thyroid issues. The way my medical care was handled during that time is what led to my fear of doctors. It often felt like the focus was on trying different medications without fully understanding what my body actually needed, and I resisted that.
That fear stayed with me for years.
But recently, something finally clicked.
I realized I have to be careful with ADHD medication because of my thyroid condition. The type of medication I take matters. My doctor explained that I need to be mindful about which ADHD medications I take because of my thyroid condition, and that helped me understand why things felt so off for me in the past.
For the first time, it made sense.
It wasn’t that I was “too much” as a kid.
It wasn’t that I was broken.
My body has always needed a different kind of care—and a doctor I could trust.
There’s one moment I still remember clearly.
I was in the girls’ room—the room I used to sleep in—when I had one of many anxiety attacks I experienced back then. This one was intense. I was overwhelmed, overstimulated, and scared. My body felt completely out of control, and I didn’t understand what was happening to me.
Instead of being calmed or supported, the response around me made it worse. The tone, the reactions, the environment—it all added to the panic instead of helping me come down from it.
I was a child in distress, without the support I needed in that moment.
Looking back now, I see it differently.
It wasn’t that I was broken.
It wasn’t that I was “bad.”
I was a child dealing with ADHD, trauma, anxiety, and a thyroid condition—trying to survive in an environment that didn’t understand how to care for me.
And now, as an adult, I’m finally starting to understand what my body and mind were going through.
I’m learning.
I’m unlearning.
I’m rebuilding.
One step at a time.