ADHD clues must be found in childhood for a diagnosis of ADHD. Knowing this, I examined documents from my past for hints about my ADHD.

Only a shrewd detective like me would be able to interpret the clues in my case. Luckily, I know that ADHD is a context-driven syndrome. Lucky, because I understood why my symptoms were better, not worse, at school.

Unlike the legions of ADHD kids who hated their early school years, I thrived in mine. Other kids’ ADHD symptoms were magnified in public school settings that weren’t conducive to their success. It’s no wonder that those kids’ report cards read like a charge sheet leading to the guilty verdict of ADHD.

If my own report cards and other documents were used as the sole evidence for my ADHD diagnosis, the case would have to be dropped for lack of evidence.

I’m the perfect example of why it’s important to take many factors into account when diagnosing for ADHD. If your practitioner isn’t familiar with the subtleties of ADD, you could end up with the wrong diagnosis or no diagnosis at all.

Zoë Kessler…Chick A-D-D…

The paperwork doesn’t add up.

Or does it? There’s always the photo taken at my friend’s 10th birthday party, but can we count that as “paperwork”?

In the photo, kids are sitting around a long dining table, about to dive into their birthday cake. At the end of table, there’s one kid standing: me. I’m crossing my eyes and sticking out my tongue for the photo. I’m not making this up.

Let’s examine further evidence.

Exhibit One: my one-year diary

In 1969, my friend Vicky gave me a one-year diary for my tenth birthday.

Thirty-seven years later, I turned to that diary with forensic eyes. (Fortunately, I’d been able to uncross them, maternal warnings to the contrary).

First of all, I lost the key to my diary umpteen years ago.

I rest my case.

No, wait! Just kidding. There’s more:

Although it was a one- NOT a five-year diary, the entries span eight years. Did I write a lot? No. Entries are inconsistent, sporadic. Most of the diary is blank, yellowed pages, with a pre-printed date at the top and little, if anything, else.

One entry in particular might provide an ADHD clue:

January 2, 1970

“Dear Diary”

That’s it. “Dear Diary.” I mean, if an empty page of blue lines with “Dear Diary” written at the top isn’t evidence of ADHD, I don’t know what is. Distraction and not finishing things are classic.

Next, I submit for your examination, Diary Entry 2. Note the exuberance and passion, both hallmarks of the drama-queen ADHD subtype.

February 4, 1971

“Dear Diary, what a great day! First, my ambition is to be a writter [sic] and poet. Well, recently I wrote a composition at shcool [sic] and got 20/20 and Mrs. Hannah wants to take it to England to read it at a Conference! And last year, one of my plays I wrote and my friends and I taped was played at McGill College!!

And today Mr Clark, our teacher said I was getting popular for my writting!!! [sic] Maybe one day I’ll write and my ambition will have come true!! (Grade 6) “

So much for my One-Year Diary.

Tomorrow, we’ll examine Exhibit Two, my public school report card entries, and Exhibit Three, a letter from my cousin.

Court adjourned.

Comments

This post currently has 3 comments/trackbacks. You can read the comments or leave your own thoughts on our new comments page.

Trackbacks

No trackbacks yet to this post.

    Last reviewed: 25 May 2011