I did not learn I had ADD until 3 years ago when I was 68 years old. A man in a group I attended talked about taking his grandson for an evaluation of the child's ADHD where the Dr. said: "I think you've got ADD, yourself. Hearing the man's symptoms made the proverbial "light bulb" go off in my mind.

Needless to say, I went for a professional evaluation, having lived all of my life in a state of impulsivness, confusion and inattention. I'd also endured several "nervous breakdowns" during my teens and twenties, (related to ADD, I now realize) but managed to stay married, care for my children and become a college English teacher in my 40's after a therapist said: "The way you talk, you should be a writer."

Going back to school and succeeding, after nothing but distressing experiences with education, was sooo uplifting. My miserable sense of myself had caused me to think something was fundamentally wrong with me; now I knew it wasn't an intrinsic flaw but something else, indeed.

I saw, clearly, that I'd lived a worthwhile (if chaotic) life and accomplished the seemingly impossible, despite ADD. I'd found my passion: writing and teaching and was in the midst of doing them well.

Today, I'm a published poet, essayist and fiction writer and looking for an agent to represent my novel whose protagonist (a teacher) has...you guessed it, ADD. She, like me, perseveres with Wellbutrin, sheer doggedness and a renewed zest for life. I wish that zest for all of you, no matter your past history or age. We are special people; believe it!

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