It’s ages since I blogged. Been busy. Been putting it off. Wasn’t sure I had stuff to say. Had too much to say.
What I mean is, there’s a lot to say and I’m not sure how to say it. It’s all a big jumbly mess in my head. So this is probably the best place to say it – apologise if it turns out to be a long one, but blogging is a great opportunity to just spill it all out.
So, over the past couple of years, I’ve talked a lot with a dear friend* whose son has autism & ADHD – she’s looked at me hard a few times and we’ve talked about neurodiversity and what it means and how all brains are different and how she probably has ADHD and how I probably haven’t…
Then last year, a friend told me her daughter had just been diagnosed with ADHD. As we talked about it, I mentioned how many comedians have it, how interesting that is, how it’s not surprising, I guess, given that comedians view the world slightly differently… That afternoon I drove to Brighton & performed my new show. As I was preparing, the venue manager said ‘well, we neurodivergent folk…’ and I said ‘oh. I don’t… I mean, I’m not… I mean… obviously that’s cool and everything but I’m pretty positive I’m neurotypical.’
And she said ‘mmhmm’.
There’s nothing you can say to that, is there? I mean, I can’t argue the point without looking defensive, or like I’d have a problem with it. And I certainly don’t want to look as though I think ADHD would be something negative. It’s just.. you know, it’s just not me.
But I did go home and google the symptoms, if that’s the right word. And I was right. Nothing there about me.
Fast forward to December and as I’m driving, Woman’s Hour is talking about ADHD in women. The presenter asks the guest what the symptoms are, and how female ADHD brains are different from male ones. I said out loud to my radio ‘yes, come on then. Tell me the symptoms. Let’s confirm one more time that this isn’t me.’ And, of course, she described me. Like, down to a tee.
I’ve been mulling that over since. I do a lot of beating myself up about not being good enough. Not being like the other comedians, the ones who are good. The ones that are ahead of me in this game. Those whose careers I aspire to. Like a lot of people, ‘imposter syndrome’ (hate that term) is rife. And all the cool kids in comedy have ADHD. So I’m clearly just jumping on the bandwagon, aren’t I? If I start talking about this, people will think I’m just trying to be like them. Oh God, I’m such an idiot. No wonder everyone hates me. Etc etc etc.
I did a course for my day job last weekend. A study day on working with neurodivergent people. And of course, it confirmed everything. It added a whole bunch of information & research and other things (what’s the alternative to ‘symptoms’ here? This isn’t an illness! ‘traits’? I just looked it up in a thesaurus – it suggested ‘oddities’. FFS) traits. A whole bunch of traits that I identified with but didn’t realise weren’t neurotypical.
So yeah. This is me. I have ADHD.
I’ve told a handful of people. An autistic comedian said ‘congratulations’. ❤ The lovely friend* said ‘welcome to the community’. My husband said ‘it’s good to give it a name’ and hugged me. There’s nothing wrong. It’s all good.
But I’m feeling very weird. I’m tearful, I’m a bit freaked out and my mind is racing more than it ever has before. And yet, nothing’s changed. I just have to come to terms with the fact that the things that make me ‘me’ have a name. And that name is one that the world sees as odd, or weird, or different, or a reason to up your car insurance (WTAF???)
And when I’ve done that, I have to write some jokes about it. I guess. Or something else. I could write jokes about something else. There’s a lot of other stuff going on…
…there always is.
Pauline Eyre 