My Mind Doesn't Work

Fun facts: my mind isn't exactly normal.

Why? My brain developed differently. The exact mechanism is somewhat unknown.


I have ADHD. I’m very open about my diagnosis, and I make numerous jokes about my condition. However, I was not always as willing to share this information about myself. This was because of a stigma that I did not want to take.

People with developmental differences cannot be as successful as their neuro-typical peers

At least that’s what the world seems to think.

I’ll never forget the day I sat in the office of a well-respected teacher and heard just what they thought of students like myself. We were talking about interesting questions they heard in class, or weird answers to exam questions. Normally you hear about drawings on exams or rude questions in class, but the teacher described his student that had a developmental disorder, such as mine, as “learning disability" and then they said this:

“They just think on a different plane,” the teacher laughed, “I can’t believe they think they can do this type of work.”

It broke my heart.

It’s not just educators who look at ADHD or a learning disorder such as Autism (ASD) and see something “wrong.” We spend so much time focusing on how those with learning disabilities are atypical that we start to think that we have to “fix” them. We think that there is something inherently wrong with these patients, and we decide to treat them differently.

When I was diagnosed with ADHD, I fought it with everything I had. I tried to tell myself that it would go away if I exercised and slept better. The meds would be on for a short while, and then I would “get better.”

I never “got better.”

I just realized that there was nothing wrong with me in the first place.

The major difference between a person with ADHD or ASD and the rest of the world is a change in connections. This manifests in many ways, from sensory processing problems to inability to speak to decreased focus. While there may be some deficits as a result of these atypical connections, not every "misconnection" results in something wrong, or without value.

However, some of these ideas are in fact novel ideas that can change the world.

Gravity- Sir Isaac Newton

The Theory of Evolution- Charles Darwin

The Little Mermaid (the original story)- Hans Christian Andersen

In undergrad I had a professor who taught us how to make Concept Maps. After I made my concept map for the exam for extra credit, I noticed that my connections were super different from my friends initially, but eventually I got to the same conclusion as them. By working through my thought process, I realized that I was just as capable of understanding complex material as any other student.

The connections I made before were not necessarily wrong.

They were just different.

Even better, I discovered that some of the connections I made in later classes were currently being published as new ideas in Nature, Cell, and Science.

I kept those memories close as I started graduate school. While I could not stay in lab past 5:30pm, I knew that I could read papers in the evenings. Instead of hiding in the corner, taking the excuse that I had a learning disability, I chose to do what I could with what I had. The papers gave me ideas, and I let my mind go as far as it wanted to go, within reason of course.

My advisor has stopped explaining things because the ideas I came up with are completely unknown.

The ideas came from my mind: my unique mind that does not need to be changed to fit the system.

We say a lot about wanting to include “diversity.” However, until we recognize that there are many ways of thought, we will not be able to fully appreciate people who are unlike ourselves. Each person, each culture, has a unique mindset, and even if the person or culture consists of neurotypical processes, we may not be able to understand them.

Everyone has a unique mind.

Some of us may be a little more different than the rest of the world, but those differences do not have to be the end all be all.

One last example.

My little sister Penelope has a sensory processing disorder. People like my sister do not process noises, textures, or light in the same way that neuro-typical people do. A normal volume level may be too much for her to handle. The way water feels bothered her quite a bit.

While many parents would allow their child to make excuses and act differently around them, my parents helped Penelope fit in. Sure, she’s different, but that doesn’t mean that she has to wear giant earmuffs or be treated differently or not bathe.

Her differences are understood.

And yet the way she thinks still surprises me.

I went outside with Penelope over Spring Break. It was gorgeous outside, but I didn’t really think about it much. All I wanted to do was move around a little more, and Penelope wanted to go outside and be in the sun, so here we were, playing tag outside.

Once I got bored, I told Penelope that I wanted to go inside.

She looked at me and said, “But Felicity. It’s beautiful outside.”

“Yes?” I was confused as to why Penelope was so adament about it, so I asked her what was so beautiful outside.

Penelope described how colorful it was outside, how the sun felt good on her skin, and how the wind made her hair feel different. Becuase she processes senses differently, Penelope is able to see the world in a more beautiful way. It would take me much longer to recognize the beauty of a spring day, but Penelope could just feel it.

By taking a moment to understand how Penelope’s mind processed the world, my front yard became a more beautiful place.

Maybe if we took some time to understand the thoughts of those around us, we too may find more beauty in this world.

Thank You Mommy

There are many thank-less jobs out there. Soldiers, maintenance staff, hospitality…and really anything that has been on TLC’s Undercover Boss. However, there is a job than can be done in tandem with all of these careers, and it is by far one of the least appreciated vocations in society.

Motherhood.

Part of the reason why it is so difficult to thank our mothers for the work they do is because nearly aspect of our lives has been touched by them. 

Our mothers, whether biological or adopted, gave us our lives.

Do we thank our mother every time we grab a snack from the pantry? Do we thank our mother every time we read a text message or a book? Do we thank our mother when we actually show up to class on time? Do we thank our mother when we buy an outfit that makes us look damn good because we know what looks good on us? Do we thank our mother every time we make a new friend?

Maybe sometimes

But not every time.

How do we thank our mothers for everything they made possible for us?

Our mothers gave us our lives, and we thank them by living our lives to the fullest.

We can show our mothers that we did learn from that time she helped us walk across the playroom by walking across a graduation stage. We can show our mothers that we grew from that time we got in trouble for doing something stupid by making something out of ourselves. We all have been given lives worth living, and regardless of the hardships we each may face, we are all capable of living lives worth being proud of

We can grow up.

Parents recognize that we all have our starting places though. Some of us may have less money. Some of us may not be as coordinated as the other kids on the field. Some of us may have a harder time in school than others.

They gave us a starting line.

But they can’t define the finish line, not entirely.

My parents often told me that I could get anywhere if I worked hard enough and utilized my talents. I may not have been the best jazz dancer, but I could win awards in tap, so I developed in to the best tap dancer I could. I may not have been good at math, but I was great at science, so I became a Biology PhD student. I may not have been chosen to be captain or president, but I could help develop a community wherever I went.

I worked hard and I believed in myself because I was raised to do so.

Maybe some of my Dear Readers did not have the same experience. I understand that my parents are not the norm. However, I do know this: whatever joys and successes you may have in this life are a blessing to your parents. They are proud of you, and they feel joy when they see you grow and succeed. 

Regardless of how they represent it, your parents delight in who you are.

The person we become is our gift to them.

I have spoken a few times about my late ADHD diagnosis. With advances in medicine and diagnostic techniques, more and more women are being diagnosed. There are more parenting books out there, and more resources.

However, I do not believe that I needed my parents to look at me entirely through the lens of “my kid has a learning disability.” They gave me the same starting line as all of my siblings, and I soared to heights many would never believe possible, even for a “normal” kid.

You see, my parents did not treat me like I was different than any other kid in the family. Yes, they had to use different parenting techniques, but that was because they were good parents. They saw my issues, and they helped me develop in to the person I am today. 

I fell many times, but I believed in myself, in my work, in my parents, and in the lives that all of my siblings and I would lead some day.

Yes, treatment is important, but it is not everything.

No matter what, the child needs love and support. They need a starting line that they can confidently shoot off from. They need someone to be cheering from the stands when they want to turn back around. They need someone who can tell them, “we got you this far. Now you keep going.”

I danced and I danced. I studied and I studied. I loved and I loved. I ran and I ran and I ran with the life my mother gave me. I took each stumble as an opportunity to reorient myself. I heard her cheering from the starting line, even as I grew in to an adult.

I’m nowhere near the finish line.

But I know that when I get there, to the Gates of Heaven, my mother will be happy. I cannot thank her for each moment of this race that we call life, but I can thank her by taking the greatest journey I can. I can thank her by improving and growing.

Thank you mommy.

I love you.

Confessions of a "Lab Mom"

When you work for an advisor who acts more like a dad than a boss sometimes, you tend to pick up a few more nurturing characteristics than your peers. In some strange turn of events, I have been lovingly named “Lab Mom.”

These are my confessions to the undergrads

1. Graduate students talk about their undergrads

Much like how dance moms compete with their kids, so too do grad students do with their undergrads. Maybe not to the point of screaming, but we definitely know whose undergrads are contaminating cells and whose undergrads are quantifying a terabyte of data for publication next year.

Obviously everyone knows I have the most interesting group.

2. Your work is totally the foundation for my dissertation.

I came to ND without having done the majority of the experiments I had to teach. But at least we can work together to make me look like a competant biologist.

Until now…I’ll just keep building off of what I learn by watching y’all drug treat cells, euthanize mice, and perform microscopy experiments. 

shhhh no one mention that one time I added acid to water during our ELISA.

3. I check your experiments and prepare for the worst

The first time I did cell culture, the older grad student had a cell line on the side in case I screwed up. Ever since then, I have adopted the nature of checking on your cell lines, your tissue stains, whatever it is you needed.

I also have prepped more DNA and made more solutions on the side, just in case everything falls apart.

4. I love dropping my entire schedule to fit your experiment or your study breaks in to my day

Sitting in the basement all day, with little to no life around you, can get pretty boring. So when I hear that one of y’all is coming by to do an experiment or whatever, I just shift my entire schedule. I’m going to be in lab regardless, so I might as well have some fun.

5. I’ve definitely used the excuse, “my undergrads need me.”

When people ask me what would happen if I don’t come in to lab, I describe the PFA incident as if this happened:

6. Putting up a live video feed is still under consideration

7. Remembering 12 different students’ schedules, experiments, and lives is a lot harder than it looks like.

I still get a little antsy when I remember the Friday when I had to plate 20 flasks for TA, teach one girl to make media, teach another how to use the fix I’m scared of, and one of the guys came in just to say hi all at once.

Fun facts: the cells died, the media was messed up, and the imaging failed.

But no worries, I cleaned up later

8. You are way cooler than me.

No matter what Ryan Gosling says…my life is not all that interesting. If you care about lysosome tubulation, then my daily life would be fascinating. It’s not that my life is boring.I love being in the basement 80 hours a week and going on random adventures whenever someone asks me to leave the basement.

But if no one is free to adventure, you have to find a form of entertainment

When you have 12 undergrads, who are all involved in many different things and have personalities that you can’t even make up, well you can live vicariously through them.

9. When y’all don’t come in, I get a lot done. But it sucks. 

10. I’m still in denial that I’m losing 8 out of the 12 in a few weeks.

I know graduation and moving in to new labs is a thing, and I celebrate those things. It’s just weird to think that I won’t be providing freshly autoclaved pipete tips, life chats, or general entertainment to 8 of y’all.

To the seniors, I wish y’all the very best. Thank y’all for helping me make this lab a second home for me at Notre Dame. Thank y’all for putting up with me when I am stressed, way too excited about lysosomes, or pursuing my PhD in Comedy instead of Biology.