Our Three-Part Mission

Part 1 — Early Years: Movement, Interruptions, and Misunderstandings

Sit still and stop interrupting!”
 

This command was shouted at me so often as a child that, even in kindergarten, the words were almost constantly bouncing around in my mind. I began telling myself—sometimes even aloud—to just sit still. The truth is, my bounciness didn’t really bother me, but it definitely seemed to bother adults, especially my teachers.
 

But it wasn’t just the constant movement. I interrupted people—a lot. Teachers, students, family, friends—no one was safe. And often, by the time I was finally given the chance to speak, I had already forgotten why I’d interrupted in the first place. Within the first few weeks of school, “Stop interrupting!” became just as common an admonishment as “Sit still.” The problem was: I couldn’t stop.
 

As far back as I can remember, I was always moving. Stillness just wasn’t something I could do. Even now, as I write this, my right foot is bouncing off the floor. My parents used to call me “wiggly,” and to them, my wiggles were just part of who I was. But when I started kindergarten, those wiggles—and the frequent interruptions—began to draw more serious attention, especially from my teachers.
 

My behavior and my apparent “refusal” to follow directions led to discipline problems that persisted throughout my childhood. In middle school, I spent countless hours sitting in the hallway outside classrooms. By high school, I practically had a standing Saturday morning appointment for school clean-up duty.
 

As a child, one of my ADHD symptoms was motor tics—repetitive, involuntary movements that are fairly common in kids with the disorder. One reason medication didn’t work for me was that stimulant meds can worsen these tics. When I was on them, they became so severe that I began injuring my neck and jaw, since those were the muscle groups involved. After about a year of trying different medications, my parents and psychiatrist decided I was better off without them.
 

In one significant way, my experience didn’t match what little was known about ADHD at the time: I didn’t struggle academically. I earned mostly A’s and B’s, even while constantly wiggly, interrupting, and impulsive. I was placed in the GATE program for gifted students—but I had to study far harder than many of my peers just to keep up.

Psychiatrists couldn’t agree: some said I had ADHD, others said I didn’t. The back-and-forth left me in limbo. I remember wondering: If I don’t have ADHD, then what’s “wrong” with me?

It wasn’t until I participated in an eye-opening ADHD study that I discovered the answer: nothing was “wrong” with me at all.