Part Five: Conquering Self-Reliance
A word from Susan
In this part…
Stephanie’s Story: Asking for Help, When No One Knew I Needed It
I am a 42-year-old married mother of two who seems entirely put together. From the outside, people see a woman who started her own business and launched a non-profit publishing company. And when I worked in a corporate career, they saw a dependable employee and go-getter. You'd never expect me to have ADHD. My friends are always surprised to hear that I do. However, ADHD symptoms in women are often misdiagnosed as anxiety or depression (1). Additionally, women are usually diagnosed with ADHD later in life compared to men (2).
My ADHD flew under the radar in elementary school and high school. I got through my studies by developing coping mechanisms. One focused on getting out of school as quickly as possible and into the working world, hyper-focusing on becoming a journalist. For example, when I heard our local newspaper hired high school interns, I applied. On internship days, I could leave school early for my internship. Essentially, I covered up my academic struggles by excelling in internships and being the editor-in-chief of my high school newspaper.
When I got to college, I decided to get tested for a learning disability and ADHD and was diagnosed with both. I don't remember why I got tested. I think it was because I wanted a reason for not perceiving myself as smart as my peers. I felt shame about having a learning disability, and I didn't really understand how my ADHD affected me. So, once again, I focused on finishing college ASAP. I accepted as many internships as I could. I was financing 100 percent of my tuition and room and board with student loans, so finishing sooner made sense. By the way, I'm still paying off those loans in my 40s!
Another example of how ADHD affected me as an adult was in my career. Even though I was a model employee, I changed jobs every few years. My ADHD brain is always looking for stimulation, which is why staying in one position became unbearable for me over time.
After my daughter was born, I started a freelance writing business to have more flexibility, and it's been my longest position ever. But I even felt shame about my decision to be a freelancer. As an overachiever (another ADHD coping mechanism), I thought there was something wrong with me for not being able to hack a corporate job. The reality is that owning a business can be a good choice for someone like me because no day is the same.
Now, let’s fast-forward to 2023. I was 40, and I finally had the courage to take a hard look at how ADHD was affecting my life. The catalyst was the constant clutter and chaos in our home. The stress was overwhelming between balancing my business, raising our children and trying to maintain order.
I needed help, but I loathe asking for it, especially when it comes to my mental health. That stems from being raised in our self-reliant, just suck-it-up culture. Admitting my struggles with ADHD was a sign of weakness. I’d rather spend hours researching how to fix something than ask for help. But this time around, my ADHD wasn’t just affecting me—I had my family to think about, too.
So, I got re-tested for ADHD, you know, to be sure I "really" had it. Sometimes, I still don’t believe I have ADHD because I’ve handled it all these years. Plus, when I tell people my diagnosis, their surprised reaction makes me wonder if my ADHD is true. But society’s perception doesn’t mean I don’t have it; it means I’m high-functioning.
Nonetheless, seeking support required admitting to myself that I didn’t have all the answers to handle my ADHD. So, feeling vulnerable and reaching out for support was brave.
When I shared my diagnosis with my doctor, she suggested medication. I wasn't thrilled about that. I could manage without it as I had for four decades. On the flip side, I was curious to see how it would help—if it would help. I’m happy to share that the medication has been life-changing. I was prescribed a stimulant, but it actually calms my mind. It slows the racing thoughts and lessens my feelings of overwhelm and anxiety. My biggest takeaway from being brave and admitting I needed help is that I found more peace, clarity and balance. It is courageous to challenge societal norms by acknowledging your limitations and seeking the support needed to thrive.
1. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC10173330/
2. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC10173330/
Big Brave Truth: For those of us high-functioning, self-reliant types, it takes tremendous courage, as well as vulnerability, to ask for help.
Action Step: Ask someone today—your spouse, friend, or work colleague to help with something, even if you can do it alone. It’s a good practice for when challenging things hit.
Stephanie is an entrepreneur, freelance writer, adjunct communications professor, and the founder and editor-in-chief of Artisan Joy, a non-profit media outlet that highlights creative entrepreneurs.
Ruth’s Story: Saving Elsa
I flew to New York City from Los Angeles on Sept 9, 2001, two days before what we now refer to, in shorthand as “9/11.” I was over 7 months pregnant with a high-risk pregnancy. I talked to my doctor & he cleared me for travel but said that should be my last trip for a while. Little did we know….
I was going to NYC to attend a very popular cable television conference for work, and to see friends & family for a baby shower. I was a VP at Scripps Networks (HGTV, Food Network, DIY & Fine Living Network). I was so excited for this trip! My coordinator, Paul booked me at the Hilton in midtown Manhattan.
Up until the 11th, everything was uneventful, except the dream I had on the 10th. My mother passed away over 20 years earlier and we were not close. I never considered her my caretaker, so when I had a dream of her telling me it was going to be okay, it shook me up. I saw her so clearly, and this was the only dream I have ever had of her. That dream gave me a tremendous amount of comfort over the next several days, and months.
The Morning of 9/11
September 11 was the most beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky; the air was crisp, not too hot; not too cool. It was a day that made you feel grateful to be alive. I was having breakfast with our outside counsel Barbara, as we had contract issues we had to review. I got to Michaels, a very fancy New York restaurant before Barbara and ordered a glass of orange juice. When the waiter brought it to me, he said, “A plane just flew into the World Trade Center” and then he left. It made zero sense to me.
Barbara arrived, we caught up, ordered and suddenly the restaurant went silent. There were no TVs, but everyone had BlackBerry’s during that time, and they were all buzzing. One by one people started leaving; Barbara looked at me and said “We should go.” We hugged and went our separate ways.
Once outside, traffic was at a standstill, but there was no honking. The streets were eerily silent. Later, F-16 fighter jets flying overhead would be the only sound that broke the silence.
The Truth Struck Me
I got into the hotel and boarded one of the elevators. It had 4 small TVs, and each screen showed the horror of what was happening. That was when I thought: “We are under attack, I am pregnant, and I am 3,000 miles from home.”
I was terrified. I called my husband Joel and when he picked up the phone I was sobbing uncontrollably. He kept telling me to breathe and reassured me it would be okay.
After we hung up, I started crying again. This very sweet stranger, one of the hotel’s maids, came into my room (the door was open) and gave me a hug, which was exactly what I needed in that moment.
Luckily, my sister Issy’s business was close by, and Scripps Network’s New York Office was right down the street. I was far from alone. Michael, a colleague and friend, came to the hotel and walked me to the office, where my sister picked me up. The thousands of people on the street were walking almost trance-like.
The Plan, and the Solemn Departure
We drove to Issy’s house in New Rochelle and started planning my return home. I connected with two other West Coast friends, Ernie from San Diego, and Sandy from the Bay area, and another friend who wanted to get home too. Since air travel was completely halted and no one knew when it would start again, we decided we would drive West. Luckily, Paul rented the last minivan in Worcester Airport.
Leaving New York was solemn. You could see the smoke from the Towers; it was still impossible to believe what had happened. All you could think of were the lives lost, their families, and the first responders.
My friends did not let me drive, and that was truly kind of them. As we made our way West, there were huge American flags hanging on the overpasses. The highways were not busy, and no planes flew overhead.
Given I was very pregnant, we had to stop every couple of hours so I could use the restroom. Now, whenever I use a gas station bathroom, I remember the 9/11 trip home.
Never Alone
We drove about 11 hours a day…my Scripps family was tracking my progress on a map that Susan (my boss) had up in her office in Knoxville. Many called me to see how I was doing. They wanted updates on our progress, which helped so much to ease the fear.
Eventually we all made it back, and the minivan crew said our goodbyes, which was so hard! Joel and I were incredibly relieved to be re-united again.
Her Very Life Was at Stake
As I think back on that time, everything was uncertain. Staying connected to my work family and friends brought me peace and hope that my baby would be OK. I had to rely on others and stay safe for her. I’m normally a very self-sufficient person, but her very life was at stake.
Like so many of us, I will never forget 9/11, and the families who lost so much. I can’t express enough my gratitude for everyone who called, wrote, and checked in with me during the trip.
What I am most grateful for, however, is this. My daughter Elsa, a healthy 7 pounds, 14 oz. baby girl, was born two months later.
Big Brave Truth: Real, true peace of mind comes when you know you’re never truly alone.
Action Step: Think back to 9/11. Where were you? What were you doing? What was one lesson you learned from that momentous day which has stayed with you?
Ruth owns & runs My Pet Garden, a full-service pet store in Southern California. Prior to that, she had a career in media.
Susan’s Story: Cranberry Cookies
The Sufi poet Hafez once said, “I have a thousand brilliant lies for the question: How are you?”
The lie that we are always ok needs to be chucked—this was never truer than when COVID descended in March of 2020.
When COVID hit, life as we’d known it ended. Shops closed. People began fighting in grocery aisles for the last rolls of toilet paper. The isolation was suffocating. I could no longer travel to speaking engagements to promote my books, so sales began to slow. None of us were ok. For sure, not me.
However, if my friends asked me how I was doing, I’d say “Great!” or “Really good!” or some other variation of that lie.
The impact from the lies hit a crescendo pitch one day. I went to my corner grocery to pick up some delicious cranberry cookies I couldn’t live without. Those particular cookies were sold at the store’s deli counter, where the employees knew me because I’d always check in with them if the cookies weren’t displayed. Gail, the deli manager, shook her head as she saw me approach. “The manufacturer has discontinued them,” she said. I just stood there. Frozen. I felt a little faint. The woman standing next to me asked if I was ok. “Would you like to sit down? You look really pale.” When I came out of my daze, I asked Gail for the name of the company that distributed them to their store, and she wrote it down for me.
I rushed home and called the distributor. “I’d like 120 of your cranberry cookies. Yes. That’s right. Ten dozen.” My husband Bill was nearby listening to all this. “If you don’t have 120, I’ll take whatever you still have. What? You don’t have any left?! Please give me the manufacturer’s number. They’re in Japan? That’s ok. Just give me the number, please.”
I was about to dial Japan when Bill gently put my cell phone down .
“Sue, even if you could get through to Japan, and even if they’d ship them here, we’d need a new freezer to store 120 cookies.” He was speaking softly now, like he was trying to soothe a feral animal. “I love you, but we’re not buying a new freezer for 120 cookies.”
At that point, I crumbled (sorry for the bad pun). I’d given up drinking years before, but my sugar addiction was in full roar because I’d just been lying about how I really was. The truth that I wasn’t “Great!” had made itself painfully clear.
I called a girlfriend meeting—via Zoom given COVID—and told them about my tragedy. We laughed until we cried.
I’d been self-reliant for so long. I saw in those moments of Cranberry Crisis that I had to be willing to let people in, to share my life even when it looked wholly insane. My husband. My girlfriends.
The love and care and community, well, it felt even better than eating 120 cranberry cookies.
Maybe.
Big Beautiful Truth: Life can get hard, and we all get scared, but we’re less scared together.
Action Step: Call a friend today. See how they are, truly are. Tell them it’s perfectly fine not to not be ok, if they’re blue.
