But going undiagnosed, it did force me to cope in creative ways.
I'd zone out in class and forget about tests. Only to inhale all the info in the dopamine-induced panic of the night before.
Long, wordy explanations bored me to tears. Which gave me deep sensitivity when explaining things to others.
And to keep myself sane during endless school days, I'd bend over backwards to try and "real-time edit" topics to be more interesting.
Finally, in my senior year of high-school, I read a blog post summarizing the classic ADHD memoir "Driven to Distraction". For the first time ever, I asked my parents to take me to a doctor. I was diagnosed basically on the spot.
The change was immediate. I went from serial coaster to rampant bookworm. Within a month, I tracked up in all my classes. I finished out high school with a bang (though it didn't matter much to college admissions).
There's always been a slight pang wondering what might have been had I read that blog post sooner. I certainly had the scholastic chops to excel, and could've landed at a much "better" school (and maybe even a "better" career).
But then I remember the blessing in disguise my alma mater, Queens College actually was. Few students cared to take advantage of the (surprisingly) excellent faculty, so I had their undivided attention. Also, the relatively lax workload gave me the space to split my time between class and internships.
And then I think about the weird, rewarding professional path those internships led me down. Where I inhale large amounts of information quickly. Find the shortest, sweetest way to explain it. And "real-time edit" the subject to make it as interesting as possible.
These aren't super-powers. These were talents I was forced to discover and lean on to cope with those that I lacked.