I was born in 1950, and I went all through childhood, grade school, high school, college, and most of my working years with untreated ADD (I don’t call it ADHD, because I'm not hyperactive). It didn’t yet exist as a diagnosis, even for children, when I was little. Adult ADD wasn't "invented" until I was in my forties. It simply drained my energy, cost me respect, and removed the option for me to marry, have children, earn advanced degrees and excel at what I was: a paraprofessional librarian. (Always a bridesmaid!) I was fortunate to be able to retire at 59. Even now, on Adderall, it is difficult for my family to bear my society for any length of time. At least now it's acknowledged and not treated as a fad diagnosis. I'm quite sure my dad had it, too, rest his soul. It is a disability, and how well I remember the cruelty of teachers and classmates in school, especially elementary school--all the way up to the horrors I experienced at a large state university, away from home for the first time--and, of course, at work. I was lucky to be employed at the public library; back in the day, it was considered a respectable haven for the unloved--especially those of us with unmarketable liberal arts degrees.
