“I’d given up,” says @J_Bloodworth. “No amount of willpower was enough. The empty Word document was a shameful testament to my lack of focus.

“I was supposed to be a writer. But I was a writer who didn’t write. Instead I lay in bed, paralysed with ennui and despair.”
“I had hit a similar wall during my schooldays. I knew I was different. My brain was frenetic. Sometimes frenetic and at other times like a sieve.”
“These evolved into disciplinary problems as the years trickled by. I went from distracted child to problem child. I was that familiar classroom underachiever: disorganised, often surly, always lost in a world of my own.”
“I worked in a series of low-paid jobs when I left compulsory education. At a petrol station. A yoghurt factory. A toilet paper factory.

“It recently dawned on me that I’ve never held down a job for more than two and a half years.”
“I’ve had pangs of resentment since the diagnosis, especially when I cast my mind back to wasted years and unfulfilled potential. Why didn’t my teachers notice something?”
“I also feel lucky. I’ve come to terms with my diagnosis. I’m starting to see it as a gift.

“Creativity is one of my superpowers. Put me in a room with ten people and there's a good chance I will come up with the most off-the-wall ideas (others may also say ‘most troubling’).”
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