I fell in to tech, really. I enjoyed it. I was good at it. I am good at it. But sometimes things get hard. So I just freeze.
This is not the way I’d recommend dealing with things getting hard, technical, or difficult. It’s not ever been a strategy that’s worked for me, so I found myself questioning:
Why?
To be clear I’m not sure I have a complete answer yet, but I’m getting there. Little by little, piece by piece. Writing this post is absolutely part of that journey, part of my healing, part of trying to make sense of why I just lock up when things get tough.
For background I’m a developer. I specialise in “front end” web development… the pretty bits. The bits that allow me to create with accessibility in mind. Even before discovering I was officially neurodivergent I’ve been chasing the dream of making the web accessible for everyone. It’s literally the most rewarding part of the work I do. Part of my daily job is not that though. Part of it is doing the boring, mundane data driven, cogs & wheels and wiring work. In construction parlance I’m the guy painting the walls, installing hand rails and mobility ramps. I’m not the electrician, I’m not the plumber and I’m not the builder. But sometimes I have to be all of these things and that’s where I struggle.
Sometimes I don’t know the answer to my work problems. Sometimes my own creative solution or the StackOverflow solution I’m reading just doesn’t work. Sometimes I fix a thing that was broken only to break something else. Freezing has become my go to when I hit that point. Just avoid the problem. Find any of the pretty stuff to do. Find any of the process refinement tasks that are outstanding. Write some tests. Write some documentation. Pick up my phone for “five minutes” (yeah right). Anything to avoid the hard thing.
But why?
When I was young I loved tearing things apart to see what made them tick. And then putting them back together… with varying success. Thank goodness my Grandmother is no longer with us so you can’t ask her about that clock my brother and I decided to disassemble. We never did figure out what made that one tick. But that’s how I learnt “web”, engaging my inner child and approaching learning with a fascinated curiosity. Saving websites as HTML in the late 1990s, rewriting them and creating new stuff with the composite pieces. Digital: a much lower risk version of physical tinkering. It’s how I continued to learn even when I went back to study for a computing degree in my mid twenties. “Wow! How’d they do that?” I got good at it. I’m still good at it. But I forget I’m good at it. Now instead of digging deeper when I’m stuck, I freeze.
But why?
Because I lost something along the way. I lost my belief in myself. I lost my tinkering attitude. Notice I didn’t say ability. I said attitude. And it is exactly that. It turns out it’s a choice I’m making, albeit subconsciously. My brain is tricking me into believing I can’t do it, because people have always told me I can’t. Because they didn’t believe in me. Or were too blinded by their own “stuff” to really give a crap about how I was doing, to realise that my “under performing” was a sign of my undiagnosed neurodiversity.
I’ve worked for a number of people who have seen me fail repeatedly on basics like tasks that require attention to detail or tasks requiring me to remember stuff (surprise, surprise). They never stopped and supported my issues, they just… Lost their collective minds. “Why does this keep happening?” “Client C noticed XYZ was missing / didn’t work, just like client A, and client B for that matter.” “You’re better than this.” “You need to focus more.” “If you just applied yourself…” “WTF is wrong with me?”
Yup. That. So my inner voice had started joining in with (and sounding a lot like) the voices I was hearing around me. “Why did I do that / not do that again?” “I’m not better than this. I’m broken.” “Even the juniors are getting this faster than me.” “I’m too old for this game, clearly.” The inner voice eventually grew meaner than any of them ever were. Because if I was the meanest, none of their words could hurt me any more.
So now the voices hold me back. Tell me I can’t do it. Tell me I should quit. Tell me I’m past it. “Look at that person. They’re younger than me and they can do it” I’ve even considered changing careers at times because it’s just hard.
But I am better than that. I can dig in. I’m tenacious AF when I need to be. And it’s only through the mental clarity of ADHD diagnosis, medication and counselling that I’ve got the space to really stop and reflect on that. It turns out my inner voice sounds like it does simply to protect me from the trauma created by the words and actions of others
Yes. Trauma. It doesn’t matter how big or how small. Trauma is trauma. Remember this.
To be totally clear, I don’t blame any other person for the trauma I’ve experienced through what they’ve said or done to me. Well… maybe one, because they’re just a horrible person, but… The fact is you don’t know what you don’t know. If I – as a parent of two ADHD children – didn’t realise I was neurodivergent, how could I expect anyone else to? That’s a pretty healing realisation.
Anyway… Back to the question at hand: But why?
Here’s what I believe: Because I’m human. Because I’ve learned to believe the same messages that have been reinforced over and over and over again through the first 45 years of my life. I didn’t understand until now, but they were messages that I heard because I have ADHD. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.
So now it’s time for me to take the power back. You no longer have the right to take away my belief in myself. You no longer have the right to question my ability and my integrity. You no longer have the right to tell me I can’t. Because I can. And I will.
I will not continue to freeze.
Is this a complete answer? No.
Will this epiphany solve all my problems and turn me into an all singing, all dancing super dev? No.
Will I strive to change my inner voice and remind myself daily to apply a child like curiosity to my problems instead of avoiding them? Absolutely.
Hi. I’m Bren. I have ADHD. And I’m a work in progress.
My ADHD Playlist 