What it’s like to live with ADHD and autism

At the age of 25 I was diagnosed with ADHD after a year of thinking daily about the best way to end my life, moving to a different country every month, and quitting every job I’d started. The diagnosis helped me give my life meaning, but it didn’t seem to fit my experience completely.

Now, six years later, I finally have the missing piece of the puzzle: one autism diagnosis.

It may sound like a diagnosis that goes too far for most people, but I was relieved. It explained an awful lot about my life so far and why I’ve always struggled with social situations.

Relationships have always confused me

As a child I wondered why we had to visit family at Christmas just because we share DNA. The answer “because they will always be there for you” felt transactional and has shaped the way I approach every relationship since.

I’ve spent my life figuring out how to be useful to people in a brutally exhausting business of companionship. I’m constantly controlling everything – from forcing myself to make the ‘right’ amount of eye contact, to saying the ‘right’ things – but I never stick to my own pre-planned script. ADHD impulsivity I see myself veering off course, often saying the wrong thing, and then beating myself up about it for hours.

I’ve lost count of the number of people who have stopped talking to me for reasons I’ll never know. The group situation is even worse, because competing demands overwhelm me so much that I often hide in the bathroom, my brain ready to explode.

Turning off the ADHD ‘noise’ with alcohol

After moving abroad at the age of 13, I discovered a way to turn off the constant AuDHD radio of thoughts running through my head. Getting paralyzed drunk seemed to shut down my brainat least temporarily. This coping strategy lasted until I was diagnosed with ADHD; Whenever possible, I would start social interactions with a tequila shot.

The lack of inhibition that comes with ADHD caused my teenage cocktails to be abandoned by strangers and picked up from tables at bars. The loud, busy clubs made me chronically overstimulated because of my autism. The sensory overload was so intense that I often fell asleep in the middle of the noise – a shutdown response when my brain just couldn’t handle it. It wasn’t unusual for my friends to find me curled up next to a thumping speaker.

However, this did not only happen in clubs. One time my friends spent the whole night watching me in a pub before finally finding me unconscious under a pile of jackets. It doesn’t matter if it’s sound, light or just the intensity of being around people; all of which can lead to overstimulation and then shutdown. I often fell asleep in class, at the movies, and even at dinner.

I couldn’t understand why I kept putting myself in situations that caused me so much stress. Now I do: it was easier to blend in with the noise than to be stuck in my own thoughts. However, living like this felt like being a prisoner of a sadistic scriptwriter in season six of a terrible TV show.

Unable to trust myself, I took cues from those who seemed to know better – but not everyone has your best interests at heart.

I was confused about the ‘right’ way to behave

As a teenage model, I was confused about the ‘right’ way to behave and therefore easily manipulated. When I tried to cover up in front of the male stylists who dressed me, they laughed and explained that they were gay. The guilt I felt led to a pattern of immediately undressing at the request of strangers in public – whether it was casting directors in offices, photographers on set, or agents inviting me to meet with them. For years I was terrified of offending anyone because I had to constantly conform to the expectations of those around me.