Chosen Families Are ADHD Support Networks for Many
I passionately disagree with the phrase “blood is thicker than water.” In my experience, familial or biological ties are not inherently stronger than non-familial bonds. My chosen bonds are often more important and meaningful than my blood bonds. And living with ADHD — and the isolation it brings — has everything to do with this experience.
No matter how early an ADHD diagnosis comes, isolation is a core part of the neurodivergent experience. It starts early. The school system, designed for neurotypical children, can be rigid and unforgiving. I know it was for me. School fed a negative feedback loop, making me and other children with ADHD believe we were deficient.
Home, a supposed sanctuary, is not always a safe haven either. Denial or minimization of symptoms are common coping mechanisms for our parents who struggle to acknowledge that we are different.
[Read: “All My Friends Are Neurodivergent — and Wonderful”]
Growing up with undiagnosed ADHD meant that adults in my life perennially punished and shamed me for behaviors that I couldn’t help. They genuinely believed I was lazy and wanted to fail. Even today, in my 40s and with an ADHD diagnosis, my family has made it clear that they do not accept the diagnosis and, therefore, do not accept me for who I am.
Why Chosen Families Matter
Families comprise people thrown together by chance and genetics. Chosen families are built on shared experiences, similar life circumstances, and intentional decisions. When our families of origin fail us, our chosen families often fill the gaps.
A group of robust, supportive, reliable, nonjudgmental, and empathetic friends and loved ones make all the difference for those of us on the fringes. They mitigate the chronic frustrations of living with ADHD. They are the antidote to ostracization.
Who is in my chosen family? Other parents with ADHD whom I met through my son’s school, for one. We share our tricks for managing symptoms, but the most important thing we do is “see” one another and offer encouragement through struggles that neurotypical people do not understand.
[Read: “I Found My Neurodivergent Safe Space, Where ‘Socially Awkward’ Is the Norm.”]
Even my doctor is part of my chosen family. I knew this after he told me what no other health care provider in my life has: “You are in control.”
It took some time for my chosen family to come together. What helped me in the early days of my diagnosis was poring through the volumes of online forums, groups, and websites dedicated to ADHD. Though nothing beats in-person bonding, reading about others’ experiences with the condition online made me feel like I wasn’t alone for the first time in my life.
A chosen family helped me regain the self-esteem that was stolen away by living with undiagnosed ADHD for so many years. My ADHD community provides me with unconditional love, support, encouragement, and a safe space to make mistakes without eternal punishment and labels. If our blood bonds cannot provide the former, then we must find others who can so that we may, in turn, be someone’s shoulder to lean on. Our mental health and well-being are too important to leave our community bonds in the hands of an arbitrary family tree.
Chosen Families and Neurodivergence: Next Steps
Maria Reppas lives with her family on the East Coast. Her writing has been in The Washington Post, USA Today, Newsweek, New York Daily News, Ms. Magazine, and Business Insider. Visit her at mariareppas.com.
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