When I showed up for my appointment at the university health clinic, I was nervous. I’d been putting this off a while.
Still, I had to admit: I needed help. I was struggling to keep up. In grad school I had to read at least two dense academic books a week, turning in semi-coherent essays on each one, in addition to attending a bunch of seminars and long lectures.
I was also building a new business full-time and volunteering at least ten hours a week. All of that was fairly normal—I liked to stay busy—but the problem was with my focus and attention span.
I knew I had ADHD. I’d been diagnosed multiple times as a kid, and for years I’d had treatment for it. Yet I’d stubbornly resisted treatment as an adult… until now. I was ready to try ADHD medication for the first time since I was twelve or thirteen.
I figured I’d explain my history to the doctor, she’d ask me a few questions, and then give me a prescription. It might be a low-dosage trial, to see how it suited me. Or maybe instead of medication she’d suggest something else—I didn’t know what that would be, but I was open.
Side Note, I Make Irrational Decisions When Experiencing Rejection
Before we continue, an important explanation: I’m the kind of person who makes irrational decisions when experiencing rejection.
Case in point: the other night I went to a bar I like. Normally at this bar, it’s fine to walk past the host station to sit at one of the high-top tables. (Other tables are reserved for host seating, but not the high-tops.)
This time, however, when I approached a high-top and sat down, I was admonished by a member of the staff. “You can’t sit there!” she exclaimed. “These tables are reserved.”
This really shouldn’t have been a big deal for me. While the employee wasn’t super nice about it, she also wasn’t terribly rude.
Apparently, since my last visit, some new rule had been passed that dictated the high-top tables were now under host command. It happens.
But I took this rejection way too personally. Instead of moving to the bar area where I was directed, I collected my belongings and walked out. I’d been excited about eating there, but now I knew I wouldn’t be back for at least three months.
Irrational decision? Probably. Will I behave this way again? Yep, pretty sure I will.