Wow…to say that I have taken a break from writing would be an understatement. I haven’t written here in years, and for a while, I honestly wondered if this chapter of my life was over.
But like a true friendship that drifted away, only to find its way back home…here we are.
I started this blog over eight years ago. When I chose the title “Finding Her Sparkle,” I did so because, at the time, that was exactly how I felt…I thought I was losing mine. I thought I was losing myself.
Over the past several years, life has continued to unfold in ways that have taken me further and further away from my own foundation. When I started this blog, I had no idea that I was in the middle of not only the chaotic cycle of perimenopause, but also the beginning of understanding something about myself that I had carried my entire life without realizing it.
What’s even wilder is that it took throwing myself back into a career I love, supporting students in the ways I had always hoped to, to finally come face-to-face with something I had quietly suspected for years.
As I continued showing up for my students day after day, it became clearer and clearer.
I have ADHD. Was that dramatic enough? Ha!
Oh, and I’m fairly certain that those who know me well are not surprised. 😊 Before I go any further, I want to share that I am not a clinician or an expert in ADHD. This is not medical advice, but rather my own personal experience, my journey of understanding myself, and the things I have learned along the way. My hope is simply that by sharing my story, someone else may feel a little less alone.
Aside from the fact that I suddenly have validation for all of the things I have struggled with for most of my life, I have to say there was a wave of emotion that came at me like a tsunami when I finally came to this realization. Additionally, I’m fairly certain that the trauma I experienced throughout much of my adolescence masked many of the challenges that I found myself facing later in life. Nonetheless, as challenging as many of my chapters have been, I recognize that each one has shaped who I am today.
I have come to realize, both personally and professionally, that there are aspects of ADHD that are actually pretty incredible, and that with the right support, we can do amazing things. Now that I am starting to understand it on a personal level, I’m hoping that I can help others navigate this without feeling broken…which is something I have honestly felt for decades.
The last few years have changed me in ways I never expected. Menopause. A late ADHD diagnosis. Grieving parents I lost decades ago. Learning to parent a teenager while also, in many ways, learning to parent myself.
Somewhere in the middle of all of that, I stopped recognizing the woman in the mirror.
For those of you who have read any of my earlier posts, you know I’ve always tried to write honestly. But I don’t think I’ve ever been this honest with myself.
At 53, I’m realizing that many of the things I spent my entire life struggling with and apologizing for are an important part of who I am. I often saw them as character flaws, but I am now realizing this is the furthest from the truth…they were not flaws.
They were clues. Clues and truths and simply the way that I process my world.
For example, for years, I have joked about “walking aggressively” because I am forever running into door frames, walls, countertops, cubicles, and table corners. I often laugh about it when it happens, but walk away with shame and a level of embarrassment that could power a small city. Apparently…this is actually a thing for some people with ADHD.
I often have one random line from a song on repeat all day long in my head. When I find a song I love, I will play it over and over again. My closets are terrifying. I have piles everywhere. When I look at a new spreadsheet, my brain wants to explode. I reread the same page 4 times and still have to read it out loud. I will sometimes have 4 identical packs of American cheese in the fridge and still think I need more. I likely have $3000 worth of items I never returned, but also have the receipts printed to actually return them somewhere in the trunk of my car or in my garage. I feel everyone’s energy. Like all the time. I’m suddenly afraid to drive on busy highways, and when I go into a busy restaurant, I feel like I’m in a wind tunnel. I truly prefer a walk with a friend or a quiet cup of coffee on my porch.
I will sometimes walk into the grocery store with a list, stand in the middle of the aisle, look at hundreds of products, and completely freeze because somehow everything feels overwhelming. I have resorted to using Instacart weekly because sometimes, it’s just too stimulating to go to busy stores. The money I spend on this is obnoxious. I also don’t like going places alone. One of my dear friends totally understands this, and when she is able, she will go places with me even though I know she doesn’t want to… thanks, Sarah! 😉
I will often replay conversations over and over, wondering if I said the wrong thing.
I often assume people are secretly upset with me. Even when I know I have done nothing wrong.
I often come home from work completely depleted after spending all day keeping everything together.
It turns out…this is all very common for someone with ADHD. My brain is busy. But it’s also incredible, or so this is what I have been told. I sometimes forget to text back, and I repeat myself terribly to my son and my husband. It drives them both crazy. I am listening. I truly am. But I have about 65 tabs open in my head at all times, and I am trying desperately to find a system. I’ll get there. 😉
One of the biggest surprises for me wasn’t the forgetfulness or the distractions or the piles or the packs of cheese.
It was the emotional side. Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria. Who knew that was a thing?
Learning about Rejection Sensitivity felt like someone had secretly been reading the script of my life.
I once left a friend’s wedding early because I was convinced everyone was mad at me. I left in tears. My husband was mortified.
I’ve driven home from dinners with friends wondering if I talked too much.
A simple change in someone’s tone could replay in my head for hours.
Constructive feedback could feel devastating, even when I knew it was meant kindly.
I overexplain.
I apologize too much.
I look for reassurance that everything is okay.
I often assume I’m in trouble, even when nothing has happened.
For most of my life, I believed these were just parts of my personality.
Now I understand they may have been part of how my brain has always processed the world.
That realization has been incredibly validating.
It has also been heartbreaking.
There has been a grief that comes with finally understanding yourself at 53.
I look back at the younger version of me. The one who worked twice as hard just to keep up, the one who walked away from her career after her father died to move her grandmother to another state and couldn’t handle all the judgment and demands from her Executive Director. The one who believed she wasn’t smart enough, organized enough, or disciplined enough, and I wish someone had told her sooner. I think about the amount of trauma I experienced and also realize how much all of this fell under the radar. But the signs were always there. There are so many things I wish I could go back and tell the younger version of me.
I wish she had known she wasn’t broken.
At the same time, I know that younger Nicole became exactly who she needed to become.
She worked hard.
She cared deeply.
She made people feel seen.
She raised an incredible son.
She supported her husband through unimaginable stress and trauma.
She built a career helping others find their way, even while she was quietly wondering why life seemed so much harder for her than it appeared to be for everyone else.
When I began my career in higher education 25 years ago, I remember thinking that I wanted to be the person I desperately needed when I was in college.
Someone who noticed.
Someone who listened.
Someone who believed in her students before they believed in themselves.
What I never imagined was that, years later, after becoming a mom myself, my purpose would grow even bigger.
Now, when I meet with students, I often find myself wanting to be the person I hope their family would want supporting them while they’re away at school.
The safe place.
The reassuring voice.
The person who notices when something isn’t quite right.
The one who reminds them that they’re capable, even when they can’t see it themselves.
Looking back, I don’t think that’s a coincidence.
Maybe every chapter of my life…even the painful ones… was quietly preparing me to become that person.
Then perimenopause and menopause entered the picture. Oh, and ADHD has always been there…Whether I realized it or not. I recently learned that many women with undiagnosed ADHD describe experiencing significant challenges during perimenopause and menopause. I wish I knew this 12 years ago…yes 12 YEARS!
If ADHD explained the story of my past, menopause seemed to turn the volume up on everything I had spent decades managing.
The masking became exhausting.
The overwhelm became louder.
The emotional regulation I had fought so hard to maintain suddenly felt out of reach.
There were days I honestly wondered what had happened to me.
Now I know I wasn’t imagining it.
But this chapter hasn’t only been about ADHD or menopause.
It’s also been about grief.
Losing my mom when I was 15 and my dad at 34 didn’t stop hurting.
If anything, it has become harder as I’ve gotten older.
Every milestone they miss reminds me of everything I still wish I could ask them.
Every friend who loses a parent brings me right back to being that teenage girl who had to figure life out without a compass.
I don’t say that because I want sympathy.
I say it because I know I can’t possibly be the only woman carrying old grief while trying to navigate new seasons of life.
For a long time, I pulled away from people.
Not because I didn’t love them.
Because I couldn’t explain what was happening inside my own mind.
I didn’t have the words.
Now I do.
And maybe that’s why I’m writing again.
Not because I’ve figured everything out.
Far from it.
I’m still learning.
I’m still untangling decades of believing things about myself that simply weren’t true.
I’m still discovering that the things I once saw as flaws may actually be part of how I’m wired. I’m also discovering how incredible those of us with ADHD are and how capable we are of doing amazing things.
Recently, I read something that stopped me in my tracks.
It said that people with ADHD often don’t see their own sparkle because living inside their brain feels more like chaos than brilliance. Other people admire the connections they make, the ideas they have, and the way they see things differently, while they spend their lives wondering if they’re simply “too much.”
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt more understood. (I found this on Instagram btw… and while I don’t know the source, the words stayed with me). Oh, and I have to give a special shout-out to the Holderness Family. Their humor, honesty, and willingness to share their own experiences with ADHD helped me start connecting some dots in my own life. What started as me laughing along with their videos on Instagram turned into me realizing that maybe there was a reason I related so deeply. I even bought their book, ADHD Is Awesome, and I’ll be facilitating a book club around it at my university this fall. Full disclosure: I’m only on page 40, so I still have some reading to do! 😂 But I’m already excited about the conversations it will create.
The more I have reflected on these past few years…maybe Finding Her Sparkle was never about becoming someone different, or fixing ourselves…but simply finding the light that was there all along.
Maybe I wasn’t searching for my sparkle after all…
Maybe I was learning how to stop apologizing for the way it shines. Does that even make sense? I hope it does!
So… this is 53.
It’s messier than I imagined.
It’s more emotional than I expected.
It’s lonelier in some ways.
But it’s also more honest and filled with purpose.
If even one woman reads this and thinks, “I thought it was just me,” then every vulnerable word will have been worth writing. Here is what I wish someone had once said to me. Maybe in my teens, or 20s, 30s, or 40’s. “You have ADHD. You are not broken. You are amazing, and you just need to figure out how to navigate the way you process your world. You feel really big things, and one day, when you go through midlife, buckle up cause it’s going to be quite a ride!” Ha! So, in true Nicole form…I’m happy to be that person that I needed when I started to go through all this…with no judgment, tons of patience, and loads of compassion.
For the first time in a long time, I feel like I am not searching for who I am supposed to become. I am finally embracing who I have always been. I have a feeling this is just the beginning. Oh, and if it’s not, I’ll see you again in about 4 years! Hahaha If you are reading this and seeing pieces of yourself in these words, please know you are not alone. Thanks as always for reading…Feels good to be back!
Finding Her Sparkle 