Ever since I was a child, I've always been told I'm awfully chatty.

It's never been something

I've taken to heart; I just thought I was a social butterfly. I was always on the move: I'd tap
my foot on the ground, because I liked the sound of my shoes on the linoleum floor of my
classroom. My teachers would call my name when they noticed me zoning out and staring
at the wall. I was told “sit still,” and I would comply until the next thought crossed my mind
and I forgot my instructions like a puppy that forgot it was being trained. In third grade, I was
sent to the psychologist who administered the “Wechsler Intelligence Scale for Children” test
that would determine something life-changing that I would not personally discover until the
age of fifteen.

During sophomore year, I sat in front of my mom crying over my grades. She was frustrated
with the C averages and I was frustrated with myself because I was trying my best. I was
confused by my grades, because if I was trying my best the only explanation I could
conceive was that I was simply not smart enough. My failure in school had a major impact on
my confidence. I felt like I was in a bottomless pit with no escape. I questioned if I would ever
get into college, or if I would be capable of having a successful future. I found myself
doubting my intelligence and labeled myself as the “failure of the family.”

A much-needed appointment was made to visit a psychologist, the same one who had
administered my test in the third grade. I was grasping for straws for an explanation of my
academic failure. I asked her, “Is there any chance I have an attention disorder?” She
laughed out loud and said, “Well of course you do. We’ve known that since your test in the
third grade!” I burst into tears of relief over the fact that my setback had a scientific
explanation. I felt betrayed by my parents that they had known and done nothing for so many
years. At the time when my ADHD was diagnosed, it did not have an impact on my
education, and so the knowledge of my disorder was swept under the rug for years.

I was ready to change my life for the better, and I was ready to feel proud of myself and the
work I did. I felt as if I had been granted with a new opportunity for growth. I had the support
of my parents who were willing to do whatever it took to see me thrive. After visiting a
psychiatrist I was prescribed medication that would change my academic career for the
better. I was expecting at least some surprise when I told my teachers about my diagnosis,
but each teacher responded with something along the lines of “Oh Drew, we’ve known all
along.” I was glad for my teachers to have an explanation for any behavioral issues they may
have encountered with me. My lack of confidence subsided.

From this experience, I have learned a lot about myself. I learned how important it is to reach
out when something doesn't feel right, and how to have the power to advocate for yourself.
Since my diagnosis, I have become a much stronger student and person. Through this
discovery I found a way to find the rose in the thorns, and I am ever so grateful for that rose
and the people who helped me look for it.