SPEAKER_00 0:01

So let me tell you about the most ADHD diagnosis appointment ever. My appointment with the psychiatrist was a hot ass mess. And she was none too thrilled with me because, ta-da, I was late. Now listen, the appointment time I had in my head and the actual appointment time clearly did not get the same memo. And of course, I didn't realize that until I got the appointment notification on my phone. And just because anything else would have been too much like right, I couldn't find my ding-dilly keys. So I rush into the appointment and I give her this is why I was late backstory. And of course, I apologize because that's a respectful thing to do, right? But baby, it was clear this woman was not here for any of us.

SPEAKER_01 0:52

Welcome to Where Are My Keys. 50 years ago, let me take this.

SPEAKER_00 0:58

Greetings and salutations. I'm Vic Barwu, and welcome to Where Are My Keys, the podcast where those of us diagnosed with ADHD later in life come to laugh, learn, rant, ramble, and rediscover ourselves after finding out our brains actually had a mind of their own this whole time. And spoiler alert, a lot of shit makes sense now. So let's get into it. But first, where are my kids? Now let's fast forward a little bit to her giving me in an assessment. She explains what I'm supposed to do. I start the assessment, and somehow, and I genuinely do not know how, I manage to miss the directions and have to start the whole thing over. And she gives me one of those long, deeply inconvenient size. You know the one. Ma'am, we are literally sitting here trying to determine whether or not I have ADHD. And I just failed to read the directions on the ADHD test. I think we've already learned something here. And in hindsight, I feel like the diagnosis should have been complete before I even sat down. But how about later on she put this ever so shady little note in my my chart? It was noteworthy that she failed to read the instructions. Oh, okay, so we're documenting this. Okay. Honey, she was over me and my antics. But to understand how I ended up sitting in this woman's office getting side-eyed over some test instructions, we have to go back to 2020. The first time I seriously thought I had ADHD was during COVID. Picture it, March 2020. One day it's all good in the hood. The next day, shelter in place. Like what does that even mean? We're living La Vita COVID and shit is bananas. But even though the world shut down, I was busy, like busy, busy. Before COVID, I had a custom skirt subscription box business. God dog, that's hard to say. Anyway, that quickly shifted into me making custom masks because if the essential workers had to be out there in them coronavirus streets, they were at least going to be styling and profiling while doing it. I was still working my full-time job. I was in the process of buying a house, and my mind was occupied all the time, per usual. And then things started to settle down a little. The world was still very much shut down, but I had moved into my house, I was working from home, and life had slowed down significantly for me. And suddenly I had time and a lot of it. Because once everything slowed down, I started noticing the brain fog. It was like hazy, and I just couldn't remember anything. And even odder was that what I can only describe as brain power surges. I'd walk into a room and my brain would just shut off. Like mid-conversation, writing an email, standing in a room trying to remember why I was there, just off, like a computer. And then it would reboot. We'll get into that later in our story time. And I mentioned it to my therapist because I honestly had no clue what was going on. And she was the first person to say, Have you ever considered ADHD? Me? ADHD? Like those two things had never even occupied the same sentence before. So I was a little skeptical. But the brain fog got foggier and the surges were surging. And so I did what any responsible adult in 2020 would do. I took one of those online, do you have ADHD quizzes? I get to the end, I hit submit, and the internet basically says, No ma'am, you do not have ADHD. You're just depressed. Remember when I said I was already seeing my therapist about some other ish we get into later in the story? Yeah. Yirl was depressed, but hell, who wasn't? Still, the irony was not lost on me that one of the questions literally asked whether I had experienced depression before. I said yes, and apparently the internet said, Well, there it is. So I kept it moving, but misinformation, that's my brain's name, she was still foggy, and the brain surges were still surging. The forgetfulness was still forgetting, and even though I was skeptical, I trusted my therapist enough to keep pressing forward. So I scheduled an appointment with the psychiatrist. And right off the bat, I knew it was going to be a problem. He just had this air about him, dismissive, arrogant. And because he had access to my my chart, he already knew I had experienced depression. And then he starts zeroing in on how much I was drinking. Sir, it's 2020. The entire world is shut down. Nobody knows what the hell is going on. I'm going to have me a glass or two of wine. Okay, three, but damn, are we listening or are we judging? Anyway, Dr. Phil basically decides I'm a depressed drunk and tells me I should seek therapy, which I was already doing, sir. How are you gonna read the depression part of my my chart and skip right over the part where I was already in therapy? That little turd. I went into that meeting thinking, what I need from you is understanding. And I left thinking, now how can we communicate if you don't hear what I say? Mm-hmm. Y'all know the vibe, child. So I folded up my little door of the explorer map to ADHD, put it away, and kept it moving per usual. Now, fast forward to 2022, and I'm effing up at work, y'all. Again. So I did what I learned to do whenever a job started feeling impossible. I found a new one. So back to the new job. And initially, magical. Lots to do, new-ish, new day, learning all the things, accepting all the challenges. And misinformation is over here singing, I think we're gonna love it here. And for a while, we did until we didn't. The novelty settled and the workload ramped up. And then the overwhelm hit. And the brain power surges came back with a vengeance. One of my aunts had dementia and passed away from dementia-related symptoms during the height of COVID. So at this point, I'm looking back at the online ADHD test and the whole you're just a depressed, drunk psychiatrist experience. And I'm no longer thinking maybe this is ADHD. I'm thinking, what if I have early onset dementia? And now I'm scared. Now we enter, Miss, I went to Spelman's circa the late 1900s, my beautiful brown skin primary care physician. We just finished my annual physical, which unironically was already scheduled for a couple weeks after my job started feeling like mission impossible. And she asked me if I had any other concerns or questions. And I'm like, well, now that you ask. So I told her about the brain fog and the power surges and the forgetfulness, my aunt's dementia and her passing. And finally, my fear that I might have early onset dementia too. And unlike my previous experience, she listened. And then she said, Oh, sis, you have ADHD. And I say, What now? She explained what she would expect to see with dementia and reassured me that what I was describing did not sound anything like that. And then she told me that she has ADHD. And she takes medication and she goes right on her about her business of doctrine in these streets. So let me pause here for a minute. There is something very different about hearing. I know what you're describing because I live with this too, versus basically being told, nah, girl, you're depressed, drinking, and channeling your inner Miss Hannigan. And it did not go unnoticed by me that the two people who had actually listened to me up to this point, my therapist and my PCP, were both black women. They didn't dismiss me. They listened. And they took what I was saying seriously. And they affirmed that something was, in fact, worth looking into. So call it cliche if you want to. But my experience made one thing very clear to me, and that is representation matters. And with that, I'm off to get the formal diagnosis, which brings us back to the appointment from hell. So now we're back to our good friend, Dr. Big Bad Wolf. Remember her? Wrong appointment time. Couldn't find my ding-dilly keys. Huff, puff. Yeah, her. Anyway, before I go to the left, she proceeds to ask me all these questions about my childhood. How were my grades? Did you get in trouble a lot in school? Was I talkative? I do believe one or two, possibly six teachers may have used the term loquacious. But again, are we listening or judging here, Doctor? She asked about my friendships, hyperactivity, yada, yada, and yada. Meanwhile, I'm looking at her like you do know I'm 46. I couldn't even remember what time this F an appointment was. Do you really expect me to remember all this stuff from my childhood? Anyway. Eventually we get into the Connors CPT3, which is basically a computer-based assessment looking at things like sustained attention, impulsivity, and attentiveness and vigilance. Oh Lord, these words, child. Anyway, she carefully explained to me how the assessment works. And meanwhile, I'm listening to her, but I'm also mentally adding things to my grocery list and wondering what the traffic's gonna look like when I leave. And for reasons only known to God in my brain. Dance, too much booty in the pants. Dance, too much booty in the pants. It was playing in my head. But yeah, I heard her. I promise. I did say she carefully explained it, right? Okay, just just checking. So I start the test and I finish it in about two minutes. And she says, You're finished? And I say, Yep. And she says, Did you read the directions? And I'm like, directions? There were directions, but didn't you just explain it all to me? And there she goes with the huff. And a puff. And at this point, I'm surely she knows I'm sure she wanted to blow my whole damn house down. Her. You'll need to retake the assessment. Please make sure you read the directions this time. And internally, because I'm really only hard in my head, I'm thinking, I know this porcelain heifer didn't. Because, ma'am, we are literally evaluating me for ADHD. Is this your job? But I proceeded to retake the test after reading the instructions and got the hell up out of that lady's office. A few hours later, I get the my chart notification and basically it says my symptoms of inattention, presentation, and descriptions were consistent with ADHD. Okay, cool. But then she goes on to say that while I didn't show significant impairment on the CPT and only had one atypical score, it was noteworthy that I fell to read the instructions the first time, started the practice session incorrectly, and had to repeat it. And there it is, this shady note I told y'all about. And again I say, this helper. Because, ma'am, I think my symptoms of inattention, presentation, and descriptions were consistent with ADHD would have absolutely sufficed. But then it's January 5th, 2023, and it's official. Your girl is neurodivergent, y'all. Wait. I have ADHD. I have ADHD. The relief that I felt was indescribable. And that weight on my shoulders miraculously lifted. And here's where our spoiler alert comes into play. It all makes sense now. For years I thought there was just something about me that didn't quite fit. But now it finally felt like there was an explanation. Honey, we are off to the races. Because now I am Charlie with the golden ticket, and I am going to learn all the things. Baby, it was information overload. I joined all the Facebook groups, Reddit groups, had notes everywhere. I had this new ADHD vocabulary, dopamine, executive function, rabbit holes. Child, I was doing all the things. And things were making sense. Oh, that's why I never fit in. Oh, that's why I get so overwhelmed. Oh, that's why I can't keep a job longer than four years. And on and on and on. And suddenly my whole life starts becoming one giant weight. That was ADHD. So I started thinking, all the idiosyncrasies I thought were just me. Are they all ADHD? And if all these things I thought were my personality are ADHD, then who the hell am I? Because now I have no clue where ADHD stops and where Vic begins. Here I am at 46 years, two months, and 30 whole days old, thinking I've been operating exactly the way I'm supposed to be. Quirky, yep. A little different, for sure. Do I put a little extra ish? Do I put a little extra juz on some ish? Absolutely. But still, me. And then suddenly somebody hands me a completely different set of operating instructions. And just like I can't adequately explain the relief I felt when I got the diagnosis, I couldn't then, and I still can't fully put into words the sadness that realization brought me. Because if I misunderstood my brain for 46 years, what else had I misunderstood about myself?

SPEAKER_01 18:24

Welcome to the podcast when I'm on my kid.

SPEAKER_00 18:28

And I believe that's really the crux of this podcast: rediscovering yourself after a late diagnosis. Not fixing yourself, not becoming an ADHD expert. Just figuring out who you were all along. Chow. One of the weirdest parts of this diagnosis is the random drug test. Yes, you heard what I said, Fred. Random drug test. Friend, I have to pee in a cup randomly. No wait. Let me take you back. Um, I do take medication, and that is my business. It's a stimulant, which means it's a controlled substance. And because of that, I'm required to do periodic drug screenings to make sure I'm actually taking said medication. Because the word on the curb is that this is that good, good, and the people are paying a pretty penny for it. And Dolly, this is the entire ghetto. Me taking random drug tests. Anyway, I go in for one of these tests. I confirm my name and date of birth. I sign some paperwork and I give the people what they wanted in a cup. Go on my merry way. And the rest of the day, something was kind of off. I couldn't get myself together. And I just felt frazzled. And then I lose my keys again. And as usual, it's funny until it isn't. And you know that laughter that turns into tears, not the happy ones. Yeah, that and I'm frantically searching. I'm throwing clothes, shoes, papers. Anything that's in my way, I'm throwing it out of the way. Excuse me. And I'm looking for these keys, like my life depends on it. And I'm overwhelmed and I'm sweating. And my body starts to feel physically heavy, like hands are pressing down on my shoulders until I literally collapse into this pile of randomness. I just thrown every which way but loose and started to sob. And when I say sob, you know the one I'm talking about. That ugly cry, snotty, shoulder heaving, guttural sob. The kind that leaves you breathless and your whole body aching afterward. And my daughters are there. And at first they're laughing because I'm doing my usual frantic where are my keys routine. But the energy shifts and it shifts quickly. And when frantic turns into overwhelm, and overwhelm turns into me collapsed on the floor. Sobbing into a pile of clothes. The look on their face changes. My daughters are watching me unravel, and none of us knows what to do. Eventually I go um lay down. And sometimes when I get that overwhelmed, I have to just sleep to reset my system. So later on, after I woke up, my goddaughter and I talked about what happened, and I told her, I feel like my brain is betraying me. And that's what it felt like. Because as much as I want it to be, the diagnosis was not the end of the story. I was still trying to understand this brain I had spent my whole life living with. And sometimes even now, it still feels like we're at war with each other. So later on, I went back to clean up the mess I'd made. And there in the pile is the paperwork from the drug test that I had signed that morning. And I picked it up and I looked at the date and realized what exactly had been off why I was feeling so frazzled that day. It had been exactly one year since my diagnosis. One full year since the beginning of this story. And so apparently I have ADHD. And so by this point, I'm joining all kinds of Facebook and Reddit groups looking for community. And I'm a podcast girly. I listen to them all day, every day. So of course I'm I start looking for one. And not necessarily another clinical explanation. I just wanted somebody who understood the weirdness, the grief, the humor, the mid-life diagnosis. And while we're adding ish to the wish list, wouldn't it be perfect if that person also looked like me? Listen, I searched all over, couldn't find nobody. I looked high and low, still couldn't find nobody. Y'all know where this is going, right? Child Shawn Mitchell couldn't find nobody greater than God, and I couldn't find the podcast I was looking for. So somewhere in all of that searching, I felt God say, if you can't find it, build it, daughter. Now, while I love to tell you I listen to God every single time and immediately, I would be a liar, liar, pants on fire. Because if that were true, this podcast would have been about two years old by now. But listen, again, we listen and we don't judge. Even though I didn't start this podcast in 2024, it is still right on time. I spent 46 years not understanding my brain. Now I am rediscovering myself. And I'm inviting you to come along with me as we laugh, learn, unravel some things, put some things back together, and no doubt continue to ask, where are my keys?

SPEAKER_01 25:37

Welcome to the podcast, where are my keys?

SPEAKER_00 25:41

And that was enough ADHD for one day. I hope you laughed a little, learned something about yourself, or at least had one moment where you said, girl, me too. If you enjoyed hanging out with me, follow the show, leave a review, and send this episode to somebody whose brain also has 5011 tabs open. And until next time, be curious about your brain. Give yourself some grace. And go find your keys. Mine are probably in the refrigerator.

SPEAKER_01 26:12

Welcome to the podcast with my keys.