Lost in Translation
Fighting to be understood with ADHD
An illustration of a person surrounded by different talking heads and text to symbolize what it’s like living with ADHD. // Illustration by Roshan Capewell
Written by Emma Toscani
As we sit on the couches in the living room, I realize something is wrong. We tried for a cozy ambience tonight. Our bellies are full of potatoes and beer; but something is wrong. I relay a story in a tangential, rambly way and you don’t laugh. I look over at you and your eyes shift away. What did I do? It was such a happy and easy night, but as soon as our friends left the house, we drifted into a silence that didn’t feel comfortable. Definitely my fault this time.
I don’t know how I have gotten this far in life without knowing why I mess up social interactions regularly. Maybe chalking it up to social awkwardness is enough for me, but there has to be more than just being a little out of step with my peers.
Having a neurodivergent brain means that the brain doesn’t work in a neurotypical way. Words of consolation don’t leap to the lips nearly as fast as a movie reference will. You may be crying right now, but wait until I pull out my impression of the Austin Powers character, Fat Bastard. I can only sort of do the Scottish accent which makes it all the more entertaining.
Neurotypicality is becoming a vague term for someone who has a brain that works in a conventional way, or someone that has no diagnosed mental disorders that affect how they perceive the world and process information. The Brain Charity says that neurodiversity becomes the other side of the coin, with anything that is a natural variation for brain function becomes classified as divergent (not that god-awful book trilogy and movie series).
According to the American Psychological Association, Attention Deficit-Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) is underdiagnosed in females, and even more so in adults. This is largely because both adults and females are better at masking and managing the disorder’s symptoms. This underdiagnosis and undertreatment of the disorder doesn’t do anyone any favors.
I wasn’t diagnosed until I was 22 years old and am only now receiving treatment via medication and adjusting my ongoing therapy.
My ADHD and anxiety diagnoses affect how my brain takes in and sends out information. In addition to ADHD, I have Auditory Processing Disorder (also called APD) which takes normal sounds and mangles them into something I can’t decipher easily. Speech, for example, is one of the most common sounds I struggle to interpret.
I liken it to Jake the Dog from Adventure Time hearing the phrase “King of Ooo” as “Kink Off Goo” which makes no sense but he just accepted that is what Finn said.
An important discussion with someone who mumbles rarely goes well. I am unable to hear important phrases and, unless I ask for an excessive amount of clarification, I struggle to make sure that person feels understood. The easiest way to work through this problem is two options: avoidance or therapy advice.
Avoidance: I’ve tried that. I haven’t dated anyone in years and that’s fine with me. If I am in a relationship, there is a risk of being unable to communicate and potentially falling into some sort of discord — where we can’t stay together in a healthy way. Even with roommates, I struggle with communicating. Avoiding roommate discussions has not helped my everyday communication skills nor led to long-term housing situations.
Therapy advice: I have been in therapy for about three years. My therapist recommends that I request for clarification when I struggle to understand what someone means. He recommends that I repeat what I hear in order to make sure I understood what someone said or meant.
However this only works when I can keep a level head; not when anxiety creates a black hole where no information is processed unscathed. According to an article from Phenomena, a black hole will perform a process called spaghettification or “noodle effect” when an object reaches a certain point on a gravitational pull. This is similar to what happens when my anxiety flares up. A strong, hazy field will develop and prevent information from coming in undamaged so I can’t understand your words as you speak them. ADHD and anxiety tend to exacerbate each other. Another symptom of ADHD is the complete shut-off of the prefrontal cortex of the brain when under-stimulated and overwhelmed.
There is a third option: help people understand me. Getting ahead of the miscommunication has helped me minimize explosive fights with people. Letting people know that criticisms about my work sound exactly like criticisms about me as a person is something I need to say, but it shouldn’t be how my brain works.
People may walk on eggshells around me, choosing words carefully — or it may all be in my head. Anxiety distorts reality in ways that ADHD can’t realize. ADHD creates problems where there should be none.
Being a neurodiverse person is exciting but it certainly has drawbacks. My mind is a filing cabinet tower that is frequently on fire. Patience for the capricious brain is what I need to have for myself, and for others. There is debate on how many forms of communication there are, but according to the University of the People, five is the number. With five types of communication, it’s hard enough deciphering words. There are so many opportunities for a message to get lost in translation.
Neurodiversity is a blessing and a curse. I make connections between colors and words, and I can remember entire movies line-by-line. I would leave executive dysfunction on the curb for trash pick-up, but I wouldn’t trade my passion-based work ethic for the world. I do what I want when I want (when mentally able to).
Communicating doesn’t come naturally to everyone. We are a social species and having irregular ways of communicating makes life more interesting — once you can spot the difference.