NEURODIVERSITY ORIGIN STORY: PART 5
Welcome to the fifth and FINAL (for now at least), part of my neurodiversity origin story. In this entry, I will quickly bring you up to present day with a blitz of six years’ worth of experiences in a few short paragraphs. Let’s get into it.
The move back home after a 13-year absence came with a lot of changes. For starters, Elizabeth got a job as a marketing manager, and I became an educational assistant. I was still struggling from the medication withdrawal and started taking supplements to cushion my mind. I also saw a new psychiatrist who unequivocally diagnosed me with ADHD, but it was recommended that I never take stimulant medication again. Even decaf coffee would send me spiralling. Life was beginning to come together though; our debt was almost gone, Elizabeth and I took our first trips to the Yukon and Alaska to visit family, and I was loving my job. Then I lost it.
Shortly after I was hired into the school system, the government changed the way in which E.A.s were funded and, since I was the newest employee, I was let go. Suddenly unemployed in the middle of summer, I struggled to find decent work and the amount of money we could place in savings for our European getaway began to shrink. We decided that we would move out of my mother-in-law’s and reassess our travel plans in two years—Elizabeth’s work had paid for our moving costs, and she needed to remain employed for two years or pay the money back upfront.
Despite my job loss, I had exceled at working with neurodivergent students, so much so that it was recommended that I become a teacher. The local education after-degree was a two-year program and would give me a designation that would place me in high demand for overseas work. I decided to apply to the education program, and my mother-in-law invited us to continue living with her so that I could go to school full-time without working as I would need to complete lengthy practicum placements throughout my time in university.
During the application process, however, I was told that despite having a 4-year B.A. and a master’s degree, I still didn’t have enough teachable classes to be accepted into the program. Somewhat begrudgingly, I took summer classes in history and then enrolled in university for a third degree—this time using the student accessibility department to set up accommodations for my ADHD.
The result of using student accessibility services was night and day. Over the next two years, I thrived in both my course work and my practicums. With my high grades, I was awarded bursaries and won scholarships, somewhat easing the financial burden to return to school. My old employer fought for my position, and I was able to return and work as an E.A. part-time. I also travelled back up to the Yukon for six weeks to complete one of my ed placements, an experience I will never forget.
Going back to school after my master’s had been a big risk (I had decided that given my experience in my master’s I would never attempt a PhD), but everything seemed to be coming together. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t last. As course work became more stressful, my brain began to splinter until one day, I had my first panic attack while giving a presentation in class. Despite finishing my degree, to this day, I am unable to speak publicly. With my panic attacks keeping me from a career as a teacher, Elizabeth and I were unable to move overseas. So instead, we took a life-changing trip to South Africa.
When we left for Africa, I had my trusty Nikon J2, and the experience of seeing and photographing wildlife in places like Kruger National Park was almost spiritual. We slept under the stars and listened to hyenas cackle in the night. We watched elephant calves bathing in water holes and saw lions and leopards next to rhinos and giraffes. We took boat tours down rivers that contained sharks, hippos and crocodiles, and we watched dung beetles roll across dusty roads. All the while, I snapped away with my tiny orange camera. I’m not sure if it was when an elephant looked me in the eye with all the intelligence of a human or when we saw a lioness wrestling her brother, but somewhere along the way Africa planted a seed in my mind—imagine what I might do if I devoted the energy I put into completing degrees into creating art instead. Imagine if I could spend the rest of my life in wild places with beautiful creatures.
When we returned from Africa, I decided to work part-time at the university helping other neurodiverse students like me, while spending the rest of my time working towards my creative goals of writing children’s books and photographing wildlife. I enrolled in numerous picture book writing conferences and, as a surprise, Elizabeth and my family bought me a new DLSR camera. Life was exceptionally pleasant, and my new job was one of the first occupations where I actually felt like my ADHD was an asset. I was the happiest I had been since my B.A.
Shortly thereafter, Elizabeth and I started looking for our own house and planning our next big trip in lieu of a life overseas—it was a road trip across Scotland with friends we met in Africa. The housing market had other ideas, and before we could find a home or go to Scotland, the COVID-19 pandemic struck. Halfway through the pandemic, I lost my job. I was devastated.
It was at this point that Elizabeth and I decided I should take some time to focus entirely on my creative pursuits. I hired an amazing ADHD coach (whom I will be interviewing for my next blog post), began using a Bullet Journal, started meditating daily, and commenced work on my photography website. I also finished several picture book scripts, bought myself a telephoto lens for wildlife photography, and took a photography course to understand the basics of my new camera. In the last 18 months, I have launched my company, The Dusty Unknown and had my photography in four exhibitions, two calendars, and on one can of beer —and did it all from a small desk in the corner of my mother-in-law’s living room. Elizabeth and I also traveled back up to the Yukon and then over to Nova Scotia for two amazing trips last summer. I even tried going back on ADHD medication—and then came off it again. What a wild ride!
This year, Elizabeth and I planned to travel overseas, finally buy a home (yep, still looking), and expand The Dusty Unknown with photography exhibitions and collaborations. Unfortunately, five months ago, Elizabeth was diagnosed with cancer and once again our life has been put on hold, albeit temporarily.
While my story hasn’t been an easy one, and this retelling has been more emotional than expected, I take solace in the fact that I am not alone and that each and every step of the way I have persevered. Life has been full of the unexpected, with twists and turns so fast it made my stomach lurch. I have learned that we all have trials and tribulations and, as mindfulness has taught me, those too shall pass. And so will the beautiful happy moments—and for that reason we should seek them out, show gratitude, and cherish the present for the gift it is. Each day, I try to remember that regardless of how dark the days become, the blue sky remains on the other side of the clouds. Where will I end up next? I’m not sure. Will my creative pursuits lead to a dream career in the arts? I can’t know for sure, but what I can say is that I appreciate having you all on the journey with me.
Well folks, despite three parts turning into five, this is in fact the end of my neurodiversity origin story. These blog posts have been a condensed version of twenty years, and while they may seem to be filled with nothing but struggle, they were also filled with hope and, at the end of it all, I am still here. If you have any comments, questions or concerns, please reach out. As you can see, I am a pretty open book.
Also, stay tuned next week for an amazing interview with artist and ADHD coach, Michelle Chappell!
