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ADHD and addiction: How alcohol masked my ADHD

Relational counsellor Becky Gant brings a personal voice to the discovery that lurking under a presenting story of addiction there might well be an ADHD diagnosis.

(5 minute read)

About a year before I stopped drinking, a friend of mine suggested I look into ADHD. I’d been sharing honestly about my struggles to keep on top of housework. Not just getting a little bit behind… but what felt like the really bad, shameful stuff. The kind that filled me with horror when someone unexpectedly knocked at my front door.

When my friend sent across a few articles for me to read about ADHD and executive functioning, I was completely blown away. I had no idea the things I’d found so hard my whole life could be linked to ADHD! As I looked into it further, I realised there were many other aspects of my experience that seemed to be connected. How frequently I lost important items. That growing pile of unfinished projects. Time blindness. ADHD paralysis. The constant internal chatter that made it impossible for me to sleep without the TV on….

For the first time, I saw these things spelled out in professional-sounding terms and given official names. Excitedly, I called my mum and told her all about my discovery; but although she validated my identification, she had some scepticism too.

“Couldn’t those things be because of your drinking?” she asked.

I had to admit, her question was a fair one. After all, I was usually drunk or hungover when these sorts of things happened. I mean… I was pretty much always drunk or hungover. How could I really know whether I had ADHD until I’d sorted out my relationship with booze?

My dance with alcohol

Alcohol and I had been doing a dance of power for many years at that point. I’d been drinking from a young age. At first it had seemed to be my friend – it gave me the courage to speak where I had previously been, as I described myself, “painfully shy”. With alcohol’s help, I became more confident, and whenever a big scary life event happened, it was there to see me through.

Then it started to betray me.

I found myself waking up after only going “for a quick pint”, and having no memory of getting home. I was dealing with increasingly frightening consequences of my drinking, and repeatedly wondering how it had “happened again”. My attempts to analyse the data of each drunken experience, to somehow control and manage my drinking, would each time inevitably fail. Once I picked up a drink, I simply never knew where it was going to take me.

What am I giving up?

Eventually, about a year after that conversation with my mum, I accepted I wasn’t going to be able to be friends with alcohol anymore. I was tired of battling to gain the upper hand over alcohol… but I was also scared of what I was going to lose.

Even before I had any knowledge of ADHD, I knew I’d been using alcohol as a way to self-medicate. I believed it helped me manage my anxiety. That it was my only way of relaxing enough to connect with people. I thought it was the source of all the joy and fun in my life, because it made that ever-present feeling of restlessness and irritability go away for a while. I couldn’t live with alcohol… but I couldn’t live without it either, could I?

What came first? The ADHD or the booze?

Still, I decided to give sobriety a try, and as I fumbled my way through those first few years, I was very happy to discover I was wrong. That the confidence I thought I needed alcohol to access was already in me, being squashed down by all the shame and regret. That I could have experiences of joy and fun, without any substance creating an artificial high. That I didn’t need it to cope with life after all.

Even many of those ADHD symptoms improved; but after four years, I felt confident in the conclusion that ADHD wasn’t going away. Alcohol had certainly made my symptoms worse… but it hadn’t caused them.

The more I learned about ADHD, the more I understood how intertwined these two parts of me were. In fact, it wasn’t just me! Articles I read told me that children with ADHD are two to three times more likely to develop a substance abuse problem.* That correlation started to seem obvious. Of course our struggles with impulsivity might make us more prone to risk-taking behaviours! Of course shame and remorse following drinking binges would be increased by RSD! And those constant hangover cycles were bound to make facing up to mountains of washing up next to impossible!

It all made sense to me, in a way that I referred to at the time as “the great unshaming of my life”.

Working with ADHD and addiction

Within my work as a counsellor, I come up against this connection frequently. There are many clients who come for therapy looking to process their ADHD diagnosis or manage their symptoms more effectively, who later acknowledge a difficult relationship with alcohol or other substances. There are also many clients who come for therapy looking to manage their addictions, who discover there may be undiagnosed ADHD hiding beneath the surface. As I tell my clients, whatever your experience is, only you can really know the way in which ADHD and addiction are connected in your life. All a therapist can do is be there to support you, to help you navigate through those memories and experiences, if you choose to explore them.

If your journey is anything like mine, that exploration might just be the key to lasting change.

If you’d like to find out more about working with Becky you can visit her website here

Reference

* Lee, S.S., Humphreys, K.L., Flory, K., Liu, R., Glass, K. “Prospective association of childhood attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and substance use and abuse/dependence: a meta-analytic review.” Clinical Psychology Review, 2011, April 31(3):328–341.

 

Click the links if you’d like to visit Beky’s therapy website or her directory entry on Attention Allies.

 

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Published 28 October 2024

 

All rights reserved © Copyright Becky Gant 2024. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author of this post is strictly prohibited. Author contact via website Contact page.

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Your ADHD doesn’t need fixing 

Relational and integrative counsellor Cat Chappell argues that it’s not ADHDers that need fixing but a variety of aspects of society and its provisions that should alter to enable those with ADHD to thrive. 

(5 minute read)

As more information and understanding of what ADHD is, and what it means to have it becomes available, we are increasingly able to understand how it shows up in people internally and externally, and (for some) that ADHD is part of who they are and what they may have been living with for years.

In tandem with this, I’ve noticed an increased supply of therapists, coaches, Instagram healers and mobile phone apps that offer therapies and “solutions” for ADHD.

I am glad there is so much more support for those with ADHD, but what I do worry about are the offers of support that claim and allegedly provide the “fixing” and “curing” of ADHD, as if it is a disease or condition to overcome.

I feel that ADHD is a neutral term – not a superpower, nor a hindrance that stops life happening (but, within that, I fully acknowledge how it can make life much more difficult – more on that later). For me, ADHD is a way that some human minds function. For some circumstances it can be useful. An example may include when working under pressure or with things that need an emergency response. Another example is using a novel approach and/or streamlining (getting something done quickly) with minimum effort.

For others, especially when faced with a generally neurotypical and capitalist approach to living and working, it can prove particularly tough and exhausting to navigate. A lot of that exhaustion comes from pushing through the painful task of engaging with something that provides no interest, and quite a bit can come from masking.

As a therapist and a human being I believe there should never be a “one-size fits all” approach to how to work with anyone – including those with ADHD – because we are all different, as people, as sets of experiences. We vary in how our brains work and what being a human in the world is like, the societal privileges you do and don’t have, and how those experiences have impacted, or continue to impact, on you as a person.

For those with ADHD there are many similarities, shared experiences and ways of being. Each has their own (what I would call) “flavour” of ADHD – especially those with dual diagnoses (e.g. Autism and ADHD). For example, some experience the hyperactivity externally in their physicality (and how they move will be different also), and for some the hyperactivity is internal, in the mind and thought. Some experience it in both and, for all, the “volume” of the hyperactivity varies from person to person and will change throughout time.

One sad commonality I do find for those with ADHD is shame – often given typically in work, education and family – especially when they are in neurotypical institutions and circles with little understanding or tolerance for those who are different.

The ADHD doesn’t need fixing – the system does. But in lieu of that, as a therapist, I aim to help “de-shame” the client from those previous and future experiences. One term I enjoy and use often is that of tasks being “morally neutral”. I first came across this term in the helpful (especially as it is brief) book called How to Keep House While Drowning by K.C. Davis. In it, Davis lists all care tasks as morally neutral – they need doing, but how they’re done is up to you. For example, we all need to eat – but how you get the food and what it consists of is morally neutral. It doesn’t matter if you cooked it all by scratch, or microwaved a meal or ordered takeaway: all of these options are morally neutral. The goal is to eat, and the point is making that happen. The shame comes from having to “do it right”, which is a combination of neurotypical thinking and internalised capitalism. Women can be subject to this further, as there is more judgement on how they keep their households, regardless of the others who live in it with them. So rather than a fix, allowing simple self-compassion and permission to do tasks in any form (or ditch those that aren’t vital), and do them in the easiest and most pain-free way, can be liberating for anyone, let alone someone with ADHD. Having financial privilege helps, as many experience what is known colloquially as “ADHD tax”. This is accumulated by paying for convenience, buying multiple items, missing returns windows, or replacing items that have been dropped or lost.

The only “fix” needed is that within society. Give more understanding and provision to those with ADHD from childhood through to adulthood, and you will see many more ADHDers thrive rather than drag themselves through society’s needless hoops in this “one-size-fits-only-the-really-privileged” way of being.

 

 

Click the links if you’d like to visit Cat’s therapy website or her directory entry on Attention Allies.

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Published 25 October 2024

 

All rights reserved © Copyright Cat Chappell  2024. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author of this post is strictly prohibited. Author contact via website Contact page.

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Bruised/RSD

Although Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) is yet to be formally recognised as a diagnosis by the medical professions, many people who have ADHD – or know an ADHDer – will have some awareness of the difficulties RSD can bring to a person’s life and relationships. In her gut-punching verse, poet Jackie Fernandez lets us take a full-force glimpse at the inner world and emotional volcano of rejection, low self-esteem and shame of a person full in the flow of RSD.

(Please be aware, this poem contains expletives.)

 

Rejection

Sensitive

Dysphoria

RSD

A by-product of ADHD

That’s me!

 

It sneaks up on you when you least expect it

Anywhere

Anyplace

Any     fucking      how

 

At

 

Any

 

Fucking

 

Time.

 

It’s like a tidal wave

Smashing into my body and soul

Knocking me off my feet

Punching me beyond defeat

 

My RSD becomes my inner voice

When I’ve forgotten deadlines

Forgotten appointments

Or I haven’t tried my best

Putting me to the test.

When my body can’t keep up

It will pour shit on me

From the shittiest cup

 

And then it starts saying

You’re rubbish at …

Running – you will never run fast

You’re too fat

You’re shit at that!

You’re shit at football

You run out of puff

You stupid fucking Chuff!

You can’t kick a ball

You let in goals

People are just putting up with you

You don’t deserve any of these roles!

 

You’re slack with your work

You got pulled up on a report

For not spell-checking

Or checking the grammar

You always come up short!

Shame on you!

You     fat      fucking    scammer!

 

You’re a crap parent

The kids know that

They put up with you

Until they can leave

Shut the door behind them

And feel so relieved.

 

You deserve nothing!

You’re crap at everything!

You’re old grey and fat

Nobody will ever love that!

 

Pause …

 

And then the wave recedes

The black clouds move away

 

I open my eyes

And see the bruises

That RSD left …

I felt every punch

The fists pummelling me

Beyond recognition

But now, I am free

 

It’s gone for now

To return once more

My spiteful friend RSD

Will knock me to the floor

And pound me once again

To my very core.

 

Jackie Fernandez

Visit Jackie’s poetry site

 

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Published 7 October 2024

All rights reserved © Copyright Jackie Fernandez 2024. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author of this post is strictly prohibited. Author contact via website Contact page.

Website version and image © Copyright Attention Allies 2024.