Hidden ADHD

So today’s topic came up because of this question – My brother, also an adoptee, had ADHD that was very obvious and came out behaviorally/externally. Therefore I was never tested/thought of having it because mine didn’t match my brothers. For years I lived thinking that my symptoms or experiences were just how the world works, but as I study more, I am seeing many ADHD symptoms that are just too hard to ignore. And maybe it isn’t ADHD, maybe it is related to dopamine levels that were affected through adoptee trauma and being born “addicted” to what my mother was using at the time. But I am wondering if other people have uncovered this or have experienced this, and how they went about handling it!

One adoptee shares –  I have PTSD. The symptoms are similar. Adoption is trauma. I do less. I learned how to practice self care and regulate my nervous system. It got easier when I got away from the people who raised me. Therapy when needed.

Another adoptee writes – I suspect I have ADHD, and like you have a lot of symptoms. I’m working up the courage to get tested. I struggle with feeling safe with doctors, so haven’t gotten tested yet. The way I present is far different from my husband who was tested for ADHD as a child. She was asked – could you share some of your symptoms and how they are different than your husbands? She answers – he’s hyperactive and has no concept of time. I’m more of the zone out and dissociate. He’s a list guy and helps him focus. lists bore me. He forgets to text and call people whereas I lose things all the time.

Another adoptee notes – Women often go misdiagnosed or undiagnosed with ADHD (and autism). I wasn’t diagnosed until my 20’s with ADHD and suspect I’m autistic, too. A very ignorant doctor tried to tell me that if I got good grades in school, then I couldn’t have ADHD. That’s untrue. You can also have ADHD and not be the hyperactive type. There’s a hyperactive, an inattentive, and a mixed subtype. Typically, if your symptoms were not enough to aggravate/inconvenience others, especially in childhood, then you went undiagnosed.

Yet another adoptee shares –  I used to just think that I had CPTSD from my adoption (which I very likely do have still), but after reconnecting with my birth family, found out that ADHD and autism are family traits (there is a genetic link to both of those). After doing a TON of research and taking the RAADS-R, it looks like I’m very likely AuDHD with a side of CPTSD/Adoption Trauma.

One more adoptee writes – Yes, diagnosed with ADHD at 38 and once I started meds, my autistic traits became more clear! And I do now know that I’ve always been this way, the two kinda cover for each other. My son is 6 and my mini-me, he hasn’t experienced any trauma in his life. We’re both neurodivergent.

Does It Get Any Easier ?

I often write from the adoptee’s perspective. Today, I share how much a natural mother grieves the loss of a child that is still living.

I woke up this morning and the first thing I went to do was grab my son. He’s been gone for a year now. I thought I was done with that. One day I feel strong and can repress my emotions and the next I’m one minor inconvenience away from hospitalization. Adoptive mom and him have shared he’s had recurring nightmares about me dying. I feel guilty for wanting to leave him and struggling like this. I’m scared to go to the hospital because the contract for visitation rights says that if I become mentally unstable Adoptive Mom and/or the County can decide to void the contract and I’ll never be able to get it back. I am in touch with my therapist, who’s also encouraging me to go. However I don’t know how I’d pay my bills and I’m scared of exposure to covid. I swear I could feel his little hands this morning and hear him call for me. The pain is eating me alive. My coping skills are failing. I’m failing. I don’t know how I’m supposed to move on. How do I get on with my life, while continuing to be there for him in this situation? The adoption will be final this summer. Will he change his name? Will she cease honoring the agreement? The only thing I can imagine as worse than losing him is losing contact too. How do we move forward as natural mothers? How do we cope? I feel like my life individually is already ruined. I’ll never heal, never. I want to check out so bad. If you’ve been separated for longer than I have from your child, does it get any easier? Is there ever peace? Even just a little bit? I’m trying to take care of myself, I just don’t see a point.

Responses . . .

You keep breathing.. whatever you have to do to get through another day, another hour, another minute… because one day.. when you son looks for you, you can be there for him when he needs you to be. Because you don’t want him to feel that he wasn’t worth waiting for, that he wasn’t worth living for.

I lost my son to the system ten years ago. It gets easier. But never stops hurting.

I’m grieving with you, natural mom to natural mom. My adoption was voluntary but my heart breaks every single day. I’m so sorry you’re going through this.

What is C-PTSD ?

Most of us have heard of PTSD but until this morning, I didn’t know there was a more severe version called Complex-PTSD.

Most people who have looked at adoption very closely already know that trauma is an aspect of having been surrendered to adoption for most adoptees.  I’ve become so steeped in it that I can recognize effects now in statements made by an adoptee that to them a vague issues they still don’t know the source of.  This lack of awareness occurs most often in teenagers and young adults.  Most mature adoptees have worked through many of these and may have had some counseling or therapy to help them uncover the underlying emotions and possible sources of these.

Complex PTSD, however, is specific to severe, repetitive trauma that typically happens in childhood – most often abuse.  On the surface, both PTSD and C-PTSD both come as the result of something deeply traumatic, they cause flashbacks, nightmares and insomnia, and they can make people live in fear even when they are safe.

The very heart of C-PTSD – what causes it, how it manifests internally, the lifelong effects (including medically), and its ability to reshape a person’s entire outlook on life – is what makes it considerably different.

PTSD typically results from “short-lived trauma”, or traumas of time-limited duration. Complex PTSD stems from chronic, long-term exposure to trauma in which a victim has limited belief it will ever end or cannot foresee a time that it might. This can include: child abuse, long-term domestic violence, being held in captivity, living in crisis conditions/a war zone, child exploitation, human trafficking, and more.

The causal factors are not all that separates PTSD from C-PTSD. How their symptoms manifest can tell you even more. PTSD is weighted heaviest in the post-traumatic symptoms: nightmares, flashbacks, hyperarousal/startle response, paranoia, bursts of emotion, etc.

C-PTSD includes all the symptoms of PTSD as well as a change in self-concept. How one sees themselves, their perpetrator, their morals and values, their faith in others or a god. This can overhaul a survivor’s entire world view as they try to make sense of their trauma and still maintain a belief that they, and the world around them, could still be good or safe.

When an adult experiences a traumatic event, they have more tools to understand what is happening to them, their place as a victim of that trauma, and know they should seek support even if they don’t want to. Children don’t possess most of these skills, or even the ability to separate themselves from another’s unconscionable actions. The psychological and developmental implications of that become complexly woven and spun into who that child believes themselves to be — creating a messy web of core beliefs much harder to untangle than the flashbacks, nightmares and other post-traumatic symptoms that come later.

The effects are usually deeply interpersonal within that child’s caregiving system. Separate from both the traumatic events and the perpetrator, there is often an added component of neglect, hot-and-cold affections from a primary caregiver, or outright invalidation of the trauma, if a child does try to speak up. These disorganized attachments and mixed messages from those who are supposed to provide love, comfort and safety – all in the periphery of extreme trauma – can create unique struggles.

Credit for this blog and for the beginning of my education in this new concept goes to Beauty After Bruises.