When I feel bad mentally, I can usually trace it back to my ADHD. It’s a condition we often joke about, flippantly saying things like, “I’m so ADHD today,” or “Squirrel!”

Of all mental illnesses, Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder is among the most common, with lifetime prevalence around 9 percent in adults. Research, including this 2022 NIH study, links the condition to genetic factors, but there’s still so much more to learn.

While ADHD is not considered a serious mental illness (SMI), the consequences of the disorder can be serious.

We, the diagnosed, know we can be annoying and try the patience of our more focused, detailed peers. We do our best to laugh it off, but that self-deprecating humor is really just a mechanism to conceal our own burgeoning feelings of frustration.

As a kid and teen, I struggled with undiagnosed ADHD. I’d daydream in class, drifting during key lessons. Staying on task, in school or at home, was difficult. I was impulsive, a trait, or symptom, that became more consequential as I got older. ADHD took a toll on my academics, my overall development, and my self-esteem.

Like many other people with ADHD, I have co-occurring disorders. I also struggle with General Anxiety Disorder and, as I’ve shared before, developed an addiction to alcohol in college and an eating disorder at 15. (According to the National Center for Biotechnology Information, as many as 80% of adults with ADHD have at least one coexisting psychiatric disorder, including mood and anxiety disorders, eating disorders, and substance use disorders, or SUD.) Growing up in an alcoholic home, as I did, can also take a psychological toll.

While I was treated for my SUD in 2002, it would take another 10 years before I received the ADHD and anxiety diagnoses. Knowing there was a reason for the unrest in my brain lifted a weight off my spirit. When mental health professionals help you identify the problem/s, they can work with you to create individualized recovery solutions. For me, that involved medication, therapy, spiritual tools, and lifestyle adjustments.

I finally got on my “right” treatment plan, but even medicated, my conditions can spiral. During international conflicts and global pandemics, my anxiety soars. When I feel overwhelmed, my ADHD skyrockets. And I’ve been stressed out… for a while.

It’s like I was in remission for ADHD. And then I wasn’t. Looking back, I started unraveling, or relapsing, about six months ago, preparing for my oldest daughter’s high school graduation. The wires in my brain picked up speed, spinning in different directions. When my ADHD surges, my head physically hurts. It gets worse as my symptoms—forgetfulness, inattention, impulsivity, and irritability—flare.

What does a relapse look like in real life? Well, I’ve gotten out of my car and forgotten to put it in park; ordered a homecoming boutonnière from one florist and went to pick it up at another; showed up a day early for a meeting; and fell for a phishing scam that could have had dire consequences. Then there was the cake fiasco, when I accidentally doubled the sugar in the recipe, and I still misplace my phone multiple times per day.

I guess I should have seen it coming. After all, I have been going, going, going. At work and at home. And I’ve worried, about big things and small things. About things I can and can’t control. I have taken my medication, but I haven’t seen a therapist, gotten enough sleep, or used the tools I’ve picked up over the course of my recovery from all my mental health issues.

For instance, I have missed my weekend 12-step meetings when I’ve been out of town visiting our daughter in college and haven’t made them up during the week. While I still pray, morning and night, I haven’t thought to pray for my state of mind or remind myself that God is the director of the universe, not me. I haven’t taken that coveted quiet time, away from people and electronics, that helps me recharge. And I haven’t been writing, which for me is its own kind of therapy.

While I can’t redo the past six months, I can take a deep breath and start over.

I begin by reminding myself that I’m not stupid. I simply have glitches in my brain that need to be tended to, or they will run amok in that 3-pound universe at the center of it all. By slowing down, leaning on my Higher Power, creating (and following) to-do lists, writing, giving myself the same grace others have generously given me, and practicing the medical and non-medical elements of my recovery, I can get back on track.

Relapse is often described as a sign for resumed, modified, or new treatment. I’ll be sure to bring that up when I see a new psychiatrist next week. I’ll also be seeing a new therapist in December.

But ultimately, I’m the one who has to follow through and make my mental health a priority. To do what I can, as suggested by my team of experts, to create calm in a universe that may otherwise be prone to chaos.

If you want to learn more about ADHD and how many of us don’t “outgrow it,” check out this panel of professionals discussing, “Diagnosis, Continuation, and Remission of ADHD into Adulthood.”