Posted on June 12, 2021
It’s been a while since I last talked about my ADHD so I thought it was time for a little update. A lot has happened since I was diagnosed, some of which I thought might be worth sharing…
It was a lot to process that I did my BA and have been doing my MA with undiagnosed and unmanaged ADHD but the diagnosis had me looking back over the last few years and a lot of things started to make sense: why I’d excelled in certain areas and struggled desperately in others. Part of me was impressed with how I’d done, factoring in this new obstacle that I’d been unknowingly battling against, but on the other hand, it makes me sad that I’ve had to, you know? It makes me sad that I’ve had to work against my own mind all this time without anyone noticing or supporting me – in this sense, at least. Life could’ve been so much easier.
And now I have to finish my Masters unmedicated.
Because I take Phenelzine for my depression, there’s the risk of interactions with stimulant-based ADHD medication so I can’t take those; both medications have the potential to raise a person’s blood pressure and together, that could be very dangerous. However, given the extreme drowsiness I experience as a side effect of the Phenelzine, I can’t take a non-stimulant medication either due to the high chance that they’ll add to the drowsiness. It’s hard enough staying awake and (somewhat) focussed during the day. I can’t afford to make it worse, especially in this final module of my Masters, the one I’ve been looking forward to since I started the Masters. So it looked like a dead end. But I wasn’t giving up at the first hurdle so I did what I always do: I started researching.
After a bit of searching, I found a research paper about a series of studies done, combining medications when traditional routes failed to work. One of those cases detailed a man who only responded to an MAOI (which is what Phenelzine is) and a stimulant-based ADHD medication. He had to continuously monitor his blood pressure but had no problems and continued on the two medications indefinitely, which allowed him to live a normal, productive life. That seemed very promising, as a starting point for discussion at the very least, so I sent it to both my psychiatrist (who’s been managing my medication for years now) and the ADHD specialist.
My psychiatrist was willing to try, provided I was diligent about checking my blood pressure. Despite our initial ups and downs, we have a really good relationship – and we have had for a long time now – and he always takes my thoughts, opinions, and research into consideration, which I really appreciate even if he ultimately opts for a different approach. So that felt good, like a step in what felt like a positive direction.
We didn’t get a response from the ADHD specialist for weeks. To begin with it was just frustrating but as time went on, I started to swing between despair and anger. I felt like I’d just been abandoned, dropped without a word (something that’s unfortunately happened enough times that it’s become a big trigger for anxiety attacks, episodes of depression, and even autistic meltdowns, depending on the situation); sometimes it feels so upsetting that these medical professionals can just go home at the end of the day and leave all of the struggles of their patients/clients behind while we all have to keep living (and suffering) from them. I know it’s not that simple – that they don’t just stop caring, that they can’t and shouldn’t have to work ridiculous hours – but in my desperate moments, in situations like this, it feels hard to feel supported, to believe that they do care, that you’re not just another file rather than a person struggling through each hour.
After some extra complications due to communication problems, we finally heard back and she was saying a categorical no, having had previous patients respond badly to the combination. While I can understand that, I found it frustrating that she wasn’t even open to trying it. I’ve always responded unusually to medications (proven again and again by my experiences with more than fifteen medications/combinations for my depression – the only one that’s worked is one that’s rarely used) so I was frustrated by the brick wall approach she was taking. My psychiatrist was still open to trying and said he’d talked to her about transferring the medication aspect of managing my ADHD to him since he’s been treating me for so long and has a detailed understanding of my history. But she said no.
So that’s it as far as I can tell. Unless I change my antidepressant, (I have to point out again) the only one that’s helped me, I can’t take medication for my ADHD. It’s essentially come down to choosing which of the conditions to treat, my depression or my ADHD, which just makes me feel so upset and frustrated. Treating my ADHD could make a huge difference in finishing my Masters but I’m getting blocked at every turn. It’s almost worst now than before I knew about the ADHD. Before, I was struggling; now, I’m struggling and I know why but I can’t do anything about it. The whole situation makes me so angry, so angry that I couldn’t do the most recent online appointment. I wasn’t in the right headspace and I doubted my ability to be receptive when my emotions were so all over the place.
My Mum took the meeting but it hasn’t changed anything. I’m still not getting any treatment, any support. I feel like I’ve been given this great weight to carry but abandoned to carry it without help or advice. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to move forward. I feel like I’ve been let down by someone who’s job it was to help me. Again. It’s upsetting and exhausting and stressful.
I don’t say these things to encourage a mistrust of doctors or because I regret the ADHD diagnosis. I just need to be honest – for the sake of my own mental health – and while I generally try to see the positive, sometimes the situation just sucks. It’s just bad and hard and makes a mess of you.
Category: adhd, anxiety, autism, depression, diagnosis, medication, mental health, music, research, treatment, university Tagged: adhd medication, adhd support, anti-depressant, antidepressants, anxiety, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, depression, inattentive type, masters degree, medication, mental illness, neurodivergent, neurodiverse, neurodiversity, phenelzine, stress, stressful, treatment, university
Posted on April 1, 2021
When my Mum was answering my questions in the previous post, she was inspired and suggested she interview me in return, with similar questions. I was up for that so here goes: this is the mother of a young adult with Autism Spectrum Disorder interviewing her daughter with said Autism Spectrum Disorder…
Briefly, what has it been like for you to get a late diagnosis?
In some ways, it was such a relief. I’d been struggling for such a long time and not having a name or label caused me a lot of anxiety and made it difficult to get any support. So in that sense, it was great. It obviously hasn’t changed the fact that I struggle but I have more confidence – it had been going on for so long and had become so complex that I did worry I was making it up and actually causing my problems – and the support allows me to work on the areas I struggle with, managing them, decreasing the intensity, and creating solutions.
But I don’t want to imply that it’s been a hundred percent straightforward because it hasn’t. For twenty years, I operated under the assumption and expectations (from myself and others) that I was neurotypical and would go on to have a neurotypical life, meeting the usual milestones. I’d always held myself to a high standard and that wasn’t really a problem until I was finishing school: learning was something I was comfortable with and excelled at and my social issues were just assumed to be shyness. But then life started to get harder, with bigger and more serious demands, and I struggled more and more but still held myself to the same high standard. I still do. It’s very deeply ingrained. So it’s really, really hard to accept that my life is never going to look like what I expected or like the lives of my peers.
Having discussed how I’ve been your advocate at various times and in various situations, where did that need come from? How has that made you feel both pre and post diagnosis? Are there particular times where it has felt more necessary than others?
I’ve definitely lost count of how many appointments we had with various people where I would explain what I was going through and how much I was struggling only to be told things like, “All teenagers struggle,” and “Well, you’re showered and dressed so you’re clearly coping.” There’s so much I could say about those experiences alone but after a while, those appointments made me so anxious that I just couldn’t talk. At all. I needed someone who could tell my story for me when I wasn’t able to and since we had (and do) talk about everything, you were always able to give all of the information and spare me at least some of the anxiety involved in those appointments. Pre-diagnosis, you were the only one a hundred percent behind me and I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without that. Best case scenario, I don’t think I would’ve gotten my diagnoses and the worst case scenario doesn’t bear thinking about. If I hadn’t had you in my corner, researching and reaching out and pushing for answers, I certainly wouldn’t have gotten this far. Post-diagnosis and in the time since, I think I’ve grown in confidence and have needed it less but there are still times that I’ve, at the very least, needed back up. There are many situations that I do now feel able to manage myself but in times of great stress or anxiety, having someone on my side, someone ready to step up and take over when I get overwhelmed or it all becomes too much, is just so important in moving life forward. I like to think that I get a bit further every time before needing you to take over but I am also aware that I may never be able to completely handle these kinds of situations when under great stress.
Having answered this question from my perspective, what about you? What would you would consider to be the positives and negatives of having Autism Spectrum Disorder?
I think I’ll start with the negatives first. That’s not a particularly optimistic start but the negatives do, at this point in time, feel more overwhelming and painful. The high levels of anxiety and overwhelming intensity of my emotions can make it really difficult to function day-to-day, plus both are incredibly exhausting. All of that is really hard. I also often feel very different from – and behind – my peers, which can feel extremely distressing. Not really in a competitive sense but because I really want to experience all the things they get to experience and often take for granted, knowing that I may never get to have those experiences.
Onto the positive things… Admittedly this perspective is harder because I am in a period of feeling that my ASD takes more from me than it gives back. Hopefully one day I won’t feel this way. But for now, positives… Although the strength of my emotions can be overwhelming, I definitely prefer it to the idea of ambivalence or apathy. And while the negative emotions are awful, the positive ones are like nothing else in life. I imagine it’s like going from grainy black and white to high definition colour: when I’m happy or passionate or excited, I feel like I’m glowing brighter than the sun. I don’t know if that makes sense but it’s how it feels. I can also get completely immersed myself in something: it doesn’t even feel like I’m focussing because I don’t feel like I’m in control, but I think people would call it deep focus. I can work on something for hours and fours. For example, I once started working on a song at eight in the morning and when I next looked up, it was dark and my hands were shaking because I hadn’t eaten for over fourteen hours. I hadn’t even noticed the time passing. And I guess another positive is how seriously I take things – my relationships, my commitments, my words, and so on. Nothing is flippant to me. I mean, I can be funny and silly but I take life seriously. Everything that I invest myself in matters so deeply to me and I never want to give anything less than my best. All of these things do have negative side effects if they go too far – which they often do – but overall, I consider them to be positives.
How do you think things would’ve been different if your ASD had been recognised when you were younger?
I mean, who knows? I don’t think we can ever really know the answers to questions like these, although I’m fascinated by the ways life might’ve turned out had this happened or that not happened. I’m not sure, to be honest; there would obviously be so many differences. But the biggest one that sticks out for me is that I wouldn’t feel so stuck between a neurotypical world and an autistic world, especially identity wise. I often feel like I have two sides to myself constantly pushing against one another and like I’m trying to find a place in the world where I don’t just have to be one part of myself, where I can be all of myself. I mean, I know everyone’s trying to find their place in the world and that most people don’t often get to be their whole selves but I feel very conscious of the two worlds that I don’t quite fit into and end up feeling like I don’t fit anywhere. So I think the obvious thing for me would be that I think my identity wouldn’t feel so fractured because growing up knowing I was autistic would’ve meant that my personality and my identity evolved with that already present, rather than trying to fit everything together later on, if that makes sense.
How do you feel about taking various medications and going to different forms of therapy for years now? How do you think those have affected you?
It’s an ongoing, exhausting part of my life and I do sometimes wonder whether any of it has made any difference. But then I think about it properly and despite all the awful medication experiences, there have been some really great ones: I wouldn’t have made it through my BA without the Phenelzine, wouldn’t have made it this far through my MA without it. And sometimes it feels like therapy only uncovers more problems but then I remember how many empowering conversations I’ve had with my therapist, how many strategies I’ve learned to help me manage not only my struggles but my life in general. There have been more ups and downs than I can count but I honestly don’t know where I’d be without them.
What do you think the hardest part of living with ASD is?
This is a really difficult question to answer. Part of me wants to answer with ‘living with ASD’ but that’s not helpful. There are so many things I could say: the anxiety; the fatigue; feeling like I blend in enough to fit in casually but feel too different to fit in on a deeper level; my limited ability to be independent; sensory sensitivities… The list goes on. But I think, overall, the hardest part is feeling like the life I want to have is never going to be possible for me and I don’t mean in the being-a-musician-is-a-risky-career-path way; I mean that, as an autistic person, I will not be able to do the things required of me to do music. It’s a terrifying prospect because I cannot imagine my life without music at the forefront. There seems no point to living otherwise. I know that sounds overdramatic but given the intense emotions I experience as part of being autistic, that is just how I feel. To an overwhelming degree.
How do you feel your life as an autistic person is different to those of your neurotypical peers?
I can absolutely recognise that we do go through a lot of the same things, albeit often in different ways and according to different time frames. But then there are definitely significant differences between my life and the lives of most of the neurotypical people around me. I feel like my life is smaller, limited. I’m sensitive to food, loud noise, large groups of people, and I struggle with low energy levels, which all make it difficult to keep up socially, so I often feel like I’m on the outside. I also find myself constantly comparing my level of independence to that of my friends: so many of them – if not all of them – have moved out (even if they’ve moved home during the pandemic), lived with friends or alone, have jobs, operate as independent adults. And I’m just not able to do that. Every day, I have to ration my energy down to the smallest sliver and it’s just not physically possible for me to do any of those things with the amount of energy I have to allocate out to all the tasks required in a day. And that’s as things are now, living at home, let alone if I was living alone and taking care of myself without any help. These things are some really big issues for me and I do find that I isolate myself sometimes so that I’m not being constantly reminded of them.
Are your relationships with your neurotypical friends different to your relationships with your autistic friends?
I think there probably are – to a certain degree, at least – but for the most part, I think it’s not that different to how we relate to each different social group we interact in. We connect with different people for different reasons so while the underlying connection to my university friends is music, the underlying connection to my autistic friends is based on our shared experiences as autistic women. But all of those connections are strengthened by other things, other commonalities and time spent together. So while I initially connected to my autistic friends because we are all autistic – and those similar emotions and experiences and struggles are an important part of our relationship because we can connect to and support each other in a very specific way – our friendship has grown a lot from there, just as every friendship grows.
How do you feel parents can be most supportive to a young adult with ASD?
I have a couple of things I’d like to include here, things that have been invaluable to me over the years:
So there we go. If you guys have any other questions for me or my Mum about living with and managing my ASD and mental health problems, please get in contact and we can always do another of these posts. I hope it was helpful!
Category: about me, anxiety, autism, chronic fatigue, diagnosis, emotions, food, medication, mental health, music, therapy, tips, treatment Tagged: advice, advocate, advocating, anxiety, asd, autism, autism diagnosis, autism spectrum disorder, autistic, autistic adult, cfs, chronic fatigue, chronic fatigue, diagnosis, emotion, fatigue, focus, friends, friendships, hope, hopeless, hopelessness, independence, late diagnosis, low energy, medication, mental health, mental illness, mother, mum, neuroatypical, neurotypical, parent, parenting, parenting autism, parents, support, therapy, treatment, what is
Posted on March 31, 2021
Since this is my blog, the experiences are predominately from my point of view but I thought it would be really useful, as well as interesting, to get a different perspective on the same scenario. So, with that in mind plus the fact that most resources are aimed at the parents of young autistic children, I asked my Mum if I could interview her about what it’s like to be the parent and often advocate for a young adult with Autism Spectrum Disorder. I came up with a list of questions and she answered them. I had almost no input on her answers, only to ask for more information or detail if I thought she hadn’t fully answered the question or finished a thought. We’re hopeful that this could be of some help to parents with adult children managing a form of Autism.
I’ve talked about what it was like for me to get a late diagnosis but what was that experience like for you?
The process of getting a diagnosis for you was frustrating at best and distressing at worst. You were very clear about your need to know the causes of your difficulties and so refusal from medical professionals to engage with that need was hard to witness. I needed to do the research, follow up possible assessments and/or therapies and talk about your challenges against a backdrop of suspicion of being overprotective and a distrust of my motives. Even when it became clear that your inability to talk for yourself at the outset was a result of Selective Mutism and your experience with those professionals, I was still met with a resistance to engage with me on your behalf.
Although I’m more able to speak for myself now, what has it been like having to do so much advocating for me?
It always felt like it was my role to do this until you were able to do it for yourself. I wasn’t trying to fix things, just get your voice heard, your experience understood so that the problems you were facing could be addressed and the right support provided.
I knew all the answers to questions you were being asked because we’d talked about it all beforehand. Both before and after your diagnosis, it has just felt like I can be the means to you being heard and hopefully understood as and when you are not able to do it yourself.
As in your first question, this doesn’t always work! And I do often feel frustrated by a refusal to accept my intentions, confusing it with a reluctance to ‘allow’ you to speak for yourself/become independent.
Knowing me but having an outside perspective, what would you consider to be the positives and negatives of having Autism Spectrum Disorder?
This is really difficult for me as all I see is YOU, with all your qualities and all your challenges. Combine this with the fact that each person with ASD presents so differently and I do find it difficult to generalise. Understanding more about women on the spectrum now, I see your very singular focus on anything you set out to do as a positive. I think your intense empathy is a double bind, giving you a compassion that can then often be overwhelming. The biggest negative I see is your level of anxiety. This is often debilitating and always massively exhausting and affects most aspects of your life.
How do you think things would’ve been different if my ASD had been recognised when I was younger?
This is a little easier to answer as I think, from all I see now, knowing about it earlier may have enabled us to access support for you and given you access to specialist resources. Having said that, I wonder if a diagnosis earlier might have ended up giving you a label that meant expectations, both your own and society’s, may have been different for you. Increased awareness of and understanding surrounding neurodiversity is relatively recent.
What do you think is the most important skill or trait when it comes to parenting a young adult with ASD?
This question makes me want to ask you what you feel has been most important but my sense is that being there for you, trying to put aside any preconceptions and opinions of my own so that I am able to really listen and hear what you are telling me, leave aside any of my own anxieties or fears, to support and encourage you to do what you want to do; a combination of protection when things are tough and support to push forward when you feel able.
I also feel it has been important to be prepared to read and research for myself and learn all about the condition so I can share this whenever it feels necessary to inform the argument for support. And to be prepared to persist when first attempts are met with a negative response.
I’ve often talked about feeling like a burden for not moving out or contributing more as a young adult. What are your thoughts on this?
In answering this, I would like to reference a quote here, which I think explains how I feel about this. I found this during one of my searches and thought it was a positive recognition of the difference I see and how it affects your life in the sense of the ‘what’ and ‘how’ you contribute and participate. Keri Opai, a Mental Health Service Award Winner in New Zealand, consulted the Maori disabled community in order to develop variants in language that differ from what he called the “sometimes condescending English terms,” and instead emphasised the ‘gaining [of] strength and ability.’ So the word for ‘disabled’ itself is ‘whaikaha,’ which means to “have strength or to be differently able.” He also spoke of people with autism having ‘their own timing, spacing, pacing and life-rhythm’ and so interpreted autism as ‘takiwatanga,’ meaning ‘in his or her own time and space.’ (Te Reo Hapai, the Language of Enrichment by Keri Opai)
I do understand that you feel this way though but I know that you do what you can when you can, and that this inevitably fluctuates according to what you have going on at any particular time. With the anxiety and fatigue you experience on a daily basis, and your focus being studying at the moment, it just doesn’t make sense that you do more than you are able to, nor that you would move out to live independently, with all the extra demands that would make on you, yet. There is plenty of time ahead for that. Until then, I get to enjoy your company and give you the support you need.
I’ve been taking various medications and going to different forms of therapy for years now. What do you think have been the effects of those, positive and negative?
I have always felt that it would be a combination of therapy and medication that would be likely to be the best way forward, and I think we both agree now that this has been the case. It was challenging to find a therapist that you felt able to work with but once we did, we knew instantly that you could start moving forward, in your own time and in whatever way felt possible, something your therapist has always supported.
Regarding medications, I do have concerns about their effects on you physically as well as mentally and appreciate that living together does mean I can help monitor these effects and see patterns and changes that maybe you can’t.
What do you think the hardest part of living with ASD is?
Again, looking at you, I would say that the hardest part for you, of living with ASD, is the sense of feeling different and feeling left behind your peers; and watching you being so exhausted by managing the mental health issues that have troubled you as a result of the late diagnosis.
Do you feel your life is different because I’m autistic?
Yes, my life is different to what I had expected it would be at this point, but then so is yours. But we deal with that, and make it the best we can, for both of us.
What has been or is the hardest part of parenting a young adult with ASD?
I have often felt very isolated, and criticised for continuing to be your voice when you are not able to speak. And I do worry about the barriers you may face in a world that does not always recognise the assets and abilities of neurodiverse people, expecting autistic people to change rather than have society change the many inhospitable or incompatible environments and expectations that may hinder them.
What help/advice would have been helpful to you at any point?
All the way through… someone willing to believe in my intentions and acknowledge that, I, as a parent, only have your best interests at the core of everything I do.
So hopefully her responses to these questions have been helpful or reassuring to the parents among you guys. During this process, she actually realised that she had questions for me so we decided to do the same thing in reverse and that post will be up tomorrow!
Category: about me, anxiety, autism, diagnosis, medication, mental health, quotes, response, therapy, treatment Tagged: advocate, anxiety, asd, autism, autism awareness, autism diagnosis, autism in girls, autism in women, autism resources, autism spectrum, autism spectrum disorder, autistic, autistic adult, diagnosis, disability, disabled, empathy, fatigue, focus, independence, interview, invisible disability, keri opai, late diagnosis, maori, medication, mental health, mental illness, mother, mum, negatives of autism, neurodiverse, neurodiversity, parenting, parenting autism, positives of autism, selective mutism, therapy, treatment, university
Hi! I’m Lauren Alex Hooper. Welcome to my little blog! I write about living with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), ADHD (Inattentive Type), and Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS), as well as several mental health issues.
I’m a singer-songwriter (it’s my biggest special interest and I have both a BA and MA in songwriting) so I’ll probably write a bit about that too.
My first single, ‘Invisible,’ is on all platforms, with all proceeds going to Young Minds.
My debut EP, Honest, is available on all platforms, with a limited physical run at Resident Music in Brighton.
I’m currently working on an album about my experiences as an autistic woman.