Long post ahead about the beginning of recovery. I don’t really expect anyone to read this but it feels so good to put this into words. I’m actually crying like a normal, emotionally stable person for the first time in three years.

Actually having professional confirmation and a diagnosis of something I’ve suspected about myself for years has been such a relief I can’t even put it into words. I’m finally prescribed and taking a medication that’s showing results and for the first time in thirteen years, I feel like I’m a fundamentally valuable and likable person. All it took was finally getting a psychiatrist that gives a damn about her patients, after five years of fighting for the diagnosis of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.

Four different psychiatrists have told me a variation of, “I think we need to focus on your emotional instability and your sleep before we start testing for ADHD. Not to mention the medications could be a dangerous combination with your panic disorder.”

Joke’s on you Dr. Reddy! Joke’s on you Dr. Falola! And all the rest of you! Turns out ADHD was the root cause of my panic disorder and subsequent depression! Something I knew for years and couldn’t get anyone to believe me about! What a concept, a doctor listening to your concerns and testing you for something you believe you may have. All these years, genetic testing I couldn’t afford, “trying out” seventeen different antidepressants, antipsychotics, lithium, benzodiazepines, how is that not more harmful than an Adderall or A Ritalin prescription? What do you think all of those years of withdrawals from those extremely potent and barely understood medications have done to my brain’s chemistry? All over a controlled substance. All over your DEA number. All over covering your ass because of the potential for abuse.

Anyway, apparently shit gets better. I actually talked to my professors for this upcoming semester about disability services accommodations and didn’t feel like an idiot and didn’t feel worthless the whole time. My words matter; what I say matters. I can clean my house and my car without getting overwhelmed. Simple tasks no longer take up a day’s worth of energy.

Thanks Dr. Hadley. Really. I can’t sing your praises enough. Maybe this is what the beginning of mental recovery feels like. Maybe mental recovery feels like being able to accomplish basic tasks, or maybe it feels like being able to cry real, actual tears after years of not being able to. Except they’re not even bad tears, I’m just so happy that I can’t stop it.