Diagnosis as infrastructure'

What’s the point of a diagnosis? You’re just saying you’re sick…

Except ADHD and autism aren’t diseases. You could argue whether they’re deficits (with hyperactivity, it’s not that attention is lacking—there’s too much of it) or disorders. A disorder requires a norm, and that norm is increasingly questioned from an evolutionary perspective. It’s different brain wiring, different chemistry, different balance. A different role in an environment natural to humans (today’s world has little to do with nature).

So what’s the point of a diagnosis? I don’t take medication. I had CBT therapy years ago and that’s enough (very useful for ADHD). A diagnosis is an instruction manual, a translator, a guide.

Now I understand my emotions and reactions. I know how to decode them and manage them.

I can have a big plan for the weekend. Prepare for it all week. Plan meticulously. Choose every detail. And then sit down and explore the unknown in peace. Autism in full glory.

But plans are what they are and life is annoying. If something can go wrong, it will. When an autistic person has to change their plans at the last minute, they’re on the edge of an explosion. Anger starts eating you alive. Unless you understand yourself and know it’s time to step back and give yourself time to process the conflict inside.

And that’s when the second wolf comes to help. ADHD sees a challenge in the whole situation. It goes on a mission. It changes clothes. It points out the autistic person’s errors in their plan and builds puzzles to solve, tasks for next time. It pulls you out of the hole and drags you forward.

That’s exactly why so many of us might never know our wiring is different. It’s because these two souls don’t just crank up the difficulty level of our lives. It’s also because they correct each other, support each other, and keep each other alive.

My Autist never liked crowds, but the hyperactive one saw them as a barrier to overcome, a challenge. On the other hand, the one who can’t sit still couldn’t peacefully wait at school or work for events to unfold, so Rain Man pointed out puzzles and pulled me into a state of hyper-focus.

And today, because of them, when my plans get destroyed, I can grimace, stomp my foot, sit quietly, get up and move on like nothing happened. Because I have a diagnosis. Because I know how to understand my own mind.