Finally Giving My Struggle a Name: My ADHD Journey

Almost every night, I would lie in bed restless, filled with anger, disappointment, and frustration at myself. And every night, I made the same quiet promise: Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow a new person will rise.

Under the stars, I cried out for change. I begged for something, anything to make tomorrow feel different. To feel seen and understood, whether at school, at home, or later, at work. I even prayed to Hashem, asking Him to help me just make it through another day. This was my life... until age 21.

From a very young age, my teachers in preschool and elementary school would tell my parents that I had so much potential, that I was bright and full of ability but that I just wasn’t living up to it. “If he would just try harder…” they’d say. And if I had a dollar for every time I heard the phrase “It’s not that you can’t, it’s that you won’t”, I’d probably own a fancy apartment by now.

I hated that phrase. “I don’t want to?! Are you serious? If anyone wanted to succeed it was me!” But no one seemed to believe me. The people closest to me didn’t understand me. I was labeled lazy, a liar, a procrastinator, a crybaby. And over time, I started to believe them.

That belief, the belief that maybe they were right, drove me to run away from myself. I couldn’t face the pressure or the disappointment. School became a prison. Teachers felt like jailers. Every class felt like a slow death of my curiosity. Even home became a place of battle and blame. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me, and no one explained it to me.

How could it be that I got up at five in the morning to make it to my first class, and still arrived late? How could I know the material before a test and still fail? I didn’t get it. No one did.

I carried this confusion with me until age 21. My life felt like a fog, a kind of nothingness. I survived only by relying on the kindness of others. I had dreams, but they shrank down into vague hopes. And there's a difference between the two. When you believe in yourself, you chase your dreams. You make things happen. But I didn’t believe. I lived like life was a roulette wheel, where I had no control. I stopped aspiring. I just hoped things would magically get better.

After my army service, I faced the adult world. And I was terrified. I desperately wanted to go to college, to learn and grow but the world of academia felt like a mountain I couldn’t climb. The higher the walls seemed, the smaller I felt inside.

Then something unexpected happened. I came across MAHOOT, a center for emotional support and self-awareness. It was there that something inside me shifted. The broken, sensitive child hiding behind the sarcastic young adult exterior finally found warmth. They gave me something I hadn’t received before, understanding, empathy, and encouragement.

And along with those gifts came something even more powerful: knowledge. They helped me realize that maybe I wasn’t broken after all. Maybe I wasn’t worthless. Maybe I wasn’t just “wasted potential.”

Soon after, I went for a professional diagnosis. What I discovered changed everything. I had ADHD. And finally, all the pain and confusion had a name. It had a face and a character. And that understanding gave new color and meaning to every moment of my past.

If I could explain what this diagnosis meant to me and to so many others like me, I’d say it felt like being told you have an illness that had been hurting you for years but was never diagnosed. That’s the relief I felt. Finally knowing what was going on... finally knowing I wasn’t alone.

Once I began treatment and received the right tools such as emotional support, healthy routines, and the proper medication, I began to feel like myself. Or maybe, for the first time, I began to feel like a whole person.

Today, I am living my dreams. The same dreams people once laughed at. Now I understand that before the diagnosis, I was like a beautiful car without an engine. I had all the parts, but I couldn’t move. I was like a fancy book with no words inside, or a beautiful bathtub with no water.

But now, I’m living with awareness, strength, and peace. I finally run my life. I set my goals. And I believe in my ability to achieve them.

I share my story because I know there are tens of thousands of children and adults, maybe even someone reading this, who feel lost and misunderstood, just like I did. And all they need is someone to lift the curtain and show them who they truly are.

To help them see past the label of ADHD and discover the shining soul inside.

From the book “Focus and Attention” by Gilad Shama and Yechiel Elias.