A pen clicks. Sniffling. Tik tok, tik tok. “Fill in the blank…” Blank… The lighting changes as a cloud covers the sun, what word?
This was the mind and every day reality of Antonia Thomson.
The sound of clicking pens cluttered Thomson’s mind as the person to her left itched their shoulder. The scratching noise of finger nails on fabric pings her focus from one place to another. Thousands of unescapable sounds overwhelm her brain. Control is lost. “Every little thing is pulling at your brain,” said Antonia Thomson.
Diagnosed in her second semester of sophomore year, a high schools student finally had peace of mind, literally. Thomson explained the experience in one word: frustrating. The diagnosis: ADHD.
It was 2011; Antonia had just entered sixth grade. From the outside, she appeared to be a young girl with non-stop energy. She lived under the shadow of her older sister, the “smart one,” who was the top of her class in everything from math to art. Thomson was not the stereotypical star student. She got the grades, but beneath the letters on her report card, Thomson had no control over her own mind. She could not focus, or sit still. Every sound and every sight put Thomson into sensory overload. “The slightest movement will completely take away all my focus,” said Thomson.
Focus was not in Thomson’s reality. A sentence was not a processable set of words but rather lines forming an image to be stared at and forgotten the moment a new sight or sound was sensed.
“My parent just always thought ‘Oh she’s a crazy little kid, she just can’t sit still,’” said Thomson. She had always been loud and energetic — she describes this as her personality still to this day. But in middle school, Thomson started having outbursts in class. It was not just the inability to focus anymore; her ADHD was becoming increasingly debilitating.
Without thought, Thomson yelled out in class. She did not raise her hand or get called on, she simply blurted out her thoughts. She would randomly leave her seat to use the pencil sharpener. In a strict catholic school, this was absolutely not tolerated.
As parents, Heidi Thomson and Greg Thomson were hesitant in accepting that their child had a “problem”. Thomson was their youngest daughter, and they were not thrilled about putting her on medication at such a young age. Mr. Thomson thought she would grow out of her hyperactivity, and that she was just “acting out” as a girl approaching puberty. As she was grew up, they realized that their daughter could not focus. They saw her sitting at the table for hours studying to no avail. It was something they could not continue to deny.
Thomson’s sixth grade teacher was new, he had never taught girls before, and her parents blamed her struggles in school on him. But, the following year, in seventh grade, Thomson had a new teacher, a woman who the family had known for years and respected. Mrs. Thomson called the teacher and asked her how her daughter was doing in school, a casual call that she did not expect much out of.
“How is my Antonia girl doing?” asked Mrs. Thomson.
“Well if tell you, are you going to be mad at me?”
“No?” she responded.
The teacher went on about her daughter’s outbursts and troublesome behavior in class. She revealed that Thomson would yell out words and phrases that had no relevance to the coursework being discussed. “Everyone is really annoyed at her, and we are wondering if this is attention seeking,” said the teacher. Mrs. Thomson was in a state of shock; if she hadn’t asked, Mrs. Thomson would have been left in the dark.
So, from seventh grade into high school, Thomson was labeled as attention-seeking, dramatic, and troublesome — labels and judgements she had hanging over her head that she had no control over. “They completely made her out to be this difficult pre-teen,” said Heidi Thomson.
“I knew they all really disliked me. Teachers would call me stupid for answering a question wrong,” said Thomson. “I hated it.”
Thomson struggled through the remainder of middle school undiagnosed. Everyone assumed she would grow out of it, but that simply was not happening. Then, freshman year of high school went by with no change. Thomson would sit in class twirling her hair and staring out the window.
At 15, Thomson knew she had ADHD. She spoke with friends who had already been diagnosed and bonded over their similar experiences. It brought Thomson some peace of mind to know that she was not alone in her experiences, but it was still difficult to do just about anything. “Okay, I have ADHD, this isn’t just who I am going to be in life,” thought the young teen. It was not for attention; Thomson couldn’t control her outbursts or her inability to focus.
Talking to kids in her class who were already diagnosed was Thomson’s means of a support system, a way to find a glimmer of normalcy with the way her hyperactive mind was controlling her.
When diagnosed, Thomson was prescribed Adderall. Within a week of taking it, her mind was able to filter out sounds and sights. However, Adderall is not a “one size fits all” drug.
At one point, Thomson was testing out a higher dosage and recalls it giving her a panic attack. She was driving in the car with her friend when her hands got sweaty and her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. They had to pull over. “I felt like I was tweaking,” said Thomson. She tried out five different dosages before finding what worked for her.
Now, two years into studying at The University of San Diego, Thomson said she finally feels like she is taken seriously. She rebranded herself as a studious college student.“Adderall does not put me ahead of other students, it just leveled the playing field,” said Thomson.