TIB Draft 2

Sometimes the biggest blessings come to you in the strangest ways. For some, it could be a person, or an event. For me, it was a misfiring frontal lobe.

Executive Function Disorder is one of those things that people don’t know about until they’re hit over the head with it. That was the case for me and my family when my therapist sat me down during my sophomore year of high school and explained that my brain is not wired to function in the world the way everyone else’s was. I naturally struggle with organization, time management, planning ahead, and completing tasks, and I always will. But despite it all, I maintain that being diagnosed with a learning disorder was the best thing that has ever happened to me.  

My mother and I spent a lot of time bickering about my academic career. Grade school and high school before my diagnosis was a study in late assignments and tardy slips, and each punishment I received from school went straight back to my mother. I was constantly told that—even if I didn’t realize it—there’s always a plain as day solution to what I was dealing with. For the most part, those solutions were “Don’t be lazy,” “Try harder,” “Get over your fears” and a slew of other suggestions drawn from the experiences of someone with a typical brain.

 (Looking back, this is likely the genesis of my workoholism, as I’ve been known to be an obsessive perfectionist).

               After being diagnosed, the story changed. The “Just get over it” lectures became more like talks in a war room, where we talked about what was going wrong and what skills or tools we could employ to fix it. We went to therapy together at Children’s Hospital, to learn more about my unique brain and how best to work with it. Doing so deepened our relationship as mother and daughter, and she is now my teammate, confidant, and best friend.

Executive Function Disorder came with a bit of a double whammy. My less than successful academic life mingled happily with past bullying, dating abuse, and seasonal mental health funks to produce a case of Generalized Anxiety Disorder. There was little I could do beyond understand my situation to combat the feelings of confusion, stress, and sadness. As a direct result of my disorder, I learned how to think introspectively about myself. I learned what triggered me, what different types of anxiety felt like, and the best ways to calm myself down. I created my own dictionary of terms do describe my brain’s behavior. For example, “Brain block,” Where my brain is so overwhelmed tht it refuses to take in information, or “Buzzing,” meaning I am so full of energy that I can’t direct it any one way. This method allowed me to understand my mind on an intimate level, and that has helped me navigate situations confidently and securely.

Lastly, my disorder brings me confidence. Through every struggle I’ve been through as a result of my disorder, I found my own path in life and confidently march it. I can detect anxiety from a mile away and deal with it in a matter of minutes. I know when to take breaks, or push myself a little harder. My drive to be the best I can be is a result of a unique and personal journey, and I would not be the person I am today without the disorder that made it all happen.