HYP: Samara Jayne Martin
Who are you?
Imagine living a lie for the first 28 years of your life, because I did. On the surface I may appear to be exactly what you’d expect, but for you to believe that takes an incredible amount of my energy. Most of my life I have felt that the world was out to get me and couldn’t understand why everyone around me seemed to be managing much better than I, that was until I started working with a young person who was diagnosed with ADHD. In exploring their behaviours, I began to realise that a lot of their struggles were akin to my own.
I had always wondered if I was different from other people and taken online autism tests that indicated traits, but I had never considered ADHD as it’s the “hyperactive boys’ condition”. This misinformation led me through years without diagnosis. Much like anyone, I believed that hyperactivity was the only symptom of ADHD, but it is a disability that affects every aspect of my life. I recognised patterns in the young person’s behaviours that reminded me of my teen years. The mood swings written off as hormonal, jumping between projects and ideas, struggling to prioritise tasks, communication issues and risk-taking activities.
I don’t match the profile for ADHD perfectly and this is principally because I also have autism and the two conditions inconveniently battle each other. My ADHD wants to live a carefree disorganised life and my autism causes me to have meltdowns when my routine is disturbed. Until I became an adult and one too many responsibilities piled up, I was able to mask my condition, and people just considered my symptoms as simply my personality.
I looked into the diagnosis process – which is by no means an easy task – and started conversations with my GP, who had previously suggested that I was living with anxiety and depression and sent me to any therapy available. The wait list for the ADHD assessment was long, and I was impatient, so I found myself accessing Right to Choose which is a UK law that allows patients the right to choose their mental healthcare provider. This process required me to do a lot of my own research around my life and development. Being aware of neurodivergence whilst answering questions about my life, led me to wonder how this had ever been missed. Then I remembered I am female. ‘Neurodivergences’ are drastically underdiagnosed in girls and women due to the lack of research conducted on female subjects, alongside this I am smart and relatively proficient at ‘masking’ (acting as if I don’t have a neurodivergent brain) which prevented professionals from exploring diagnosis for me. A little over a year of pushing and I have now been diagnosed with ASD and ADHD.
I was flooded with excitement after my assessment. In the presence of one of the few people I am comfortable to unmask around, I started to mime surfing whilst humming a tune! My partner shared in my celebration and helped me to spread the news to my family and friends. Having a diagnosis filled me with relief and as the weight was lifted from my shoulders, I finally had an explanation as to why life had been so challenging for me. I rode this high for at least a week before my thoughts slipped to my past and I was overwhelmed by grief for the life I could have had if someone, anyone, had diagnosed me when I was a child. Doubts from my distant acquaintance group (my close friends and family supported me but outside of that group, i.e. my distant acquaintances, claimed it couldn’t possibly be that) began to resonate around the same time, and this led to me further questioning the legitimacy of my diagnosis as if I could have somehow faked my neurodivergence. I started the lengthy process of getting the correct medication and dose not long after this, and of course was expecting all my problems to disappear: they didn’t. In fact, they got worse at first and this led to a breakdown at work that saw me instructed to take a month of sick leave.
It has been a year since I was first diagnosed, and it has been one of the most challenging years of my life. My whole being has been tested as I quickly realised that I have absolutely no idea who I am, what was me and what was the mask I had built? The problem with the relief of diagnosis is that many people tend to fully unmask without realising they need to find a happy medium where they can exist as themselves whilst fitting societal expectations. I was not the exception to this.
My life has been scattered with an abundance of failed romantic partners and friendships. Although I am lucky to have retained a handful of good friends who understand me, I have lost count of the relationships that my way of processing has affected. It might seem bold to refer to oneself as pretty, but I am by no means unattractive to some, which as an AuDHD adult comes with its own range of difficulties. (AuDHD is a relatively new unofficial term that describes a person who has both autism and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder ADHD.)
Because I haven’t presented stereotypically with neurodiversity, I have’t been afforded protections or allowances that perhaps others have, an issue that many women living with neurodiversity encounter. I’ve made the best decisions I can with the resources my brain gives me and often these have been socially unacceptable, leading me to upset, difficulties and injuries (severed main tendon in leg from running into glass door, chopped off end of thumb rushing food, motorcycle accident, fights, being bullied, self-harm as a coping mechanism) but because I am ‘pretty’ and ‘smart’ they have been written off as fundamental character flaws that people have taken advantage of or ostracised me for. This had a profound impact on me as a teenager when all I wanted was to have friends and be accepted for being myself. As children our parents encourage our individuality and work through perceived faults, but as a teenager, the harsh reality of life begins to hit, you cannot just ‘be yourself’, it is unacceptable. My teenage years saw a rise in disordered eating, self-harm, councillors and a poor relationship with myself.
How many jobs had you worked by the time you were 30? If you factor in my desperation for acceptance and motivation for perfectionism, I started work at 13 years old and have since then only spent nine days without a job. I have found it incredibly difficult to settle into jobs for long term employment, I was always unable to build good working relationships and the rejection I felt because of this has led to me leaving multiple roles. Most of my working life I have felt under-stimulated and I often describe work as my special interest as it’s only been on rare occasions that I have less than three jobs at a time. I make up part of the 15% of neurodiverse adults in employment and my way of managing that is to live in constant burnout at a cost to my health, wellbeing and life chances.
My ADHD diagnosis was last year and for autism was only several months ago. I’ve been undergoing the process of discovering myself and it hasn’t been pretty. I’ve had to take time off work, I’ve let people down, I’ve cried, I’ve hated myself, I’ve grieved for the life I could have lived, I’ve questioned, I’ve researched and I still don’t have the answer. Every day now is just a day, and one day, it will all be okay.
Who am I? – Act One
You are so aggressive.
You are so clumsy.
You sound so monotone.
You are so emotional.
You can be so insensitive.
You are too rough.
You are isolating yourself.
You need to make more of an effort.
You don’t know your own strength.
You drive too fast.
You just need to communicate.
You can’t react like that.
You can’t speak to me like that.
You are so argumentative.
You only have yourself to blame.
You look like a man and you dress like a boy.
You wear big pants now, you have big responsibilities.
You wouldn’t like an all-girls school.
You just need to lose weight.
You can’t wear that; stripes don’t suit you.
You need anger management.
You are so rude.
You are always so negative.
You need to think about this.
You need to fix this.
You can’t go home.
You can’t call your mum.
You can’t handle your drink.
I wouldn’t come to you with my problems.
I am not eating your food.
I am leaving you because you are too depressed.
I feel like I have failed you.
I can’t do it for you.
I don’t believe you love me.
I am afraid of you.
I don’t believe you.
Who am I? – Act Two
Are you just going to sit around?
Are you frowning again?
Are you gonna give us a smile, love?
Are you able to manage your job?
Are you always going to wear odd socks?
Are you paying attention?
Are you pierced where I can’t see?
Are you the cause of it all?
You must stop pulling your trousers up, get a belt.
You must stop biting your nails.
You must stop playing with your hair, it’s not very lady-like.
You must get your head out of the clouds.
You must lose weight.
You mustn’t dress like that.
You must dye your hair a natural colour.
You must use your inside voice.
You must turn that music down.
You must speak up.
You must stop that; you are embarrassing yourself.
Who am I? – Act Three
You are so organised.
Your house is immaculate.
You did so well at school.
You are an amazing singer.
You are so creative.
You are full of knowledge.
I love you.
I think you are perfect.
I know things will get better.
I see they are just jealous of you.
I wish I had a magic wand to make it all go away.
Samara Jayne Martin, 29
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