A CV of Coping Mechanisms
My CV is a list of coping mechanisms. Working back through my job history is like reading a catalogue of the ways I tried to cover up my ADHD. It is my way of saying ‘I promise I’m not loud or forgetful. I can be anything you need me to be.’ I am too scared for people to get the wrong impression of me; to think I am messy, disorganised, rude. Because, yes, I have been those things sometimes. But society has conditioned me to really be the opposite; to be so perfect that I am just a sum of my coping mechanisms. To hyper focus so much on not being judged, on not being seen as incompetent, that I burn myself into the ground -working 100 times harder to try and even the playing field.
What these coping mechanisms are grounded in, is my immense fear of rejection. A lot of people with ADHD suffer from Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD). RSD is an overwhelming sensitivity to rejection or criticism; this can be a rejection from other people or failing to meet standards created by others or yourself. This can manifest itself in rage, or intense sadness and often people who suffer with RSD are unaware of their reaction until they reflect.
If people don’t love me for me, they at least need me for something else.
RSD for me combines both the fear of rejection from people around me but also extraordinarily high standards for myself that I wouldn’t dare expect of others. Growing up, I can now see that this was a big contributor to my unexpected outbursts of anger. At school, I was the one person people could count on for a reaction and my anger became seen as part of my personality. In a society where an angry woman is not something to be desired, I adapted. Slowly as I have aged, I can see that my coping mechanisms are mostly an attempt to quell my anger and funnel it into something that will ensure I’m not excluded. I have shaped myself into somebody that people can rely on, ensuring that if people don’t love me for me, they at least need me for something else.
Whilst I was once seen as somebody who is angry and hyperactive, I am now often seen as organised and methodical. I am the Monica Geller of my friends, the one to rely on at work, and I even have an event management degree. I have conquered every project management software, every diary, planner and scheduling tool and I am ruthlessly organised.
The brutal reality is, however, that version of myself just doesn’t exist.
At school I never remembered to do anything; I lost all my stationery (now sacred to me), I never remembered to bring in my homework and I often forgot when I had exams. But I still did well. Because of this, I was told that ‘if you just remembered to bring in your homework,’ ‘if you could just be a bit quieter in class’, ‘if you were a little bit more organised,’ then ‘you could be amazing’. It wasn’t just one teacher that told me this, on a single occasion; this was something that I heard all the time. And so, I decided to do something about it. If I devoted my life to being organised, to having everything together, I could be this amazing version of myself I was often told about. I could accomplish anything I set my mind to. The brutal reality is that version of myself just doesn’t exist. It has taken me 10 years of my life to realise I am chasing a dream that is impossible to reach. That no matter how organised I am or how put together I seem, my neurodivergence doesn’t fit into what these teachers expected of me. And it took me getting sick to finally realise.
In 2019, I became really unwell. Among other things, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t think and I was exhausted. After a twisted bowel, over 20 hospital investigations and 2 years of agonising pain, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. During these 2 years, I continued to work full-time (with sickness absences here and there) and I continued to study towards my MSc. Despite the fact I was ill, I didn’t know how to slow down or let go of my continuous efforts to be good enough. My body was trying its hardest to force me to stop. On occasion, it won – those days I couldn’t do anything but sleep or the pain was so bad all I could do was cry. This gave me time to reflect and for the first time, after being diagnosed in 2016, I was unpacking my ADHD. Being unwell made me lose who I was. I couldn’t do the things I used to do, and I had to reevaluate my whole existence. It was terrifying, but it was definitely worth it.
Dampening my ADHD made me dampen my creativity
I came to realise I fell into a cycle. I would take a job as an administrator, utilising those perfected coping mechanisms the way I knew best and wear myself out showing them off. After 6 months, I would be exhausted and dissatisfied. I would move to a new place, New Zealand or Wales or Cornwall and with the excitement of something new I would do it all again. (This also was a win-win for my RSD; if I left people behind, they wouldn’t have the opportunity to reject me themselves). Soon, I realised that by dampening my ADHD and building a fortress of coping mechanisms, I was also dampening my creativity. I had an opportunity to evaluate what I wanted to do and who I wanted to be. The crippling reality was my life was far from that picture.
With all these reflections in tow, I had to decide what to do next. I quit my job and moved to Hampshire, taking yet another role as an administrator. Not what you were expecting? Welcome to ADHD. I want to tell you that I broke that cycle and have found a new lease on life, but I can’t. Granted, moving to Hampshire was a decision I made for myself. I went back to where I first went to university and returned to somewhere I knew made me happy. Admittedly, it was as an administrator, but I am taking baby steps. It is a huge thing for me to realise that where I want to be and where I am in my career are really different places and that a lot of my personality is a defense mechanism, but it is even bigger that I am making changes one step at a time. I know that to break this cycle, I can’t simply turn my world upside down (despite the impulse scorching through my veins). I know that to make these changes stick, I need to do it gradually. And that is something to be proud of. I am making sure I explore those things I always wanted to do before I tried so hard to please everybody else. Writing this post is one of those things. I am being brave and putting myself out there for anybody to reject, because I am trying my hardest to honour myself and what I want. And that is definitely something I am proud of.
I recently worked for an EU funded research project called The Inclusivity Project. The project focused on improving recruitment and retention of people with disabilities, long-term health conditions and older workers in Cornwall. Whilst working full-time on the project, I was also studying a part-time masters with the University of Birmingham and became unwell. Here I talk about those struggles and how employers can make their workplace more inclusive: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZc1u0aMmmU&ab_channel=EuropeanCentreforEnvironmentandHumanHealth
