It’s Sunday morning, and I just returned from an hour-long walk around my neighborhood, feeling proud that I completed my cardio mission instead of just thinking about it.
The neuropsychologist I met with last week said that daily cardio, which triggers healthy blood flow to the brain, is one of the most important habits I can form if I want to stave off the dementia that has affected five members of my father’s six-sibling set. I read about the brain benefits of daily cardio a couple years ago, but something about a doctor peering over her glasses while she reminds you hits different.
I found out after completing a nutrition genome test to learn more about my food tolerances that I have a double dose of APOE, known as the Alzheimer’s gene, which puts me in the highest risk category. This information, combined with the very real presence of memory impairment in my family, prompted me to schedule a neuropsychological evaluation to establish a baseline. You know, for long-term health purposes.
I got the report this past week, and I learned three things that were both comforting and clarifying.
First, I learned that my memory is just fine. In some areas, better than fine. This is a relief, of course, especially for a woman of a certain age whose hormone changes keep her second-guessing the true status of her sound mind.
Second, I learned that when it comes to verbal and non-verbal reasoning (pattern recognition, drawing inferences, applying logic to solve complex problems, and finding innovative solutions), I’m in the 92nd percentile. A “genius,” apparently. Additional research on reasoning illuminated why my curiosities, insights, and unique approaches to solving complex human problems have always set me apart, making sense of my entire professional life. (I notified my husband of my genius status, and in typical John fashion, it’s fast becoming an inside joke.)
The third thing I learned? I have ADHD, indicated by average processing speed and a gap in attention when compared to my other scores. Practically speaking, this means my mind is racing on some tasks, but moving at an average pace on those that require processing and attention, which creates a discrepancy that my brain must slow down to reconcile. This shows up in pauses when I’m asked to filter new information or to solve a problem I’ve never solved before. Interestingly, after I do it once—even when the task is made more complex by new factors—my performance improves. This showed up in the tests I completed, which surprised the doctor who expected I’d do better on the first and simpler tasks. I recognize this dynamic in my everyday life. It takes me time to work through anything new, but after I create systems in my brain—pattern-based ways of understanding information,I rely on that system in future sessions.
I’m not surprised by the ADHD diagnosis, nor is anyone close to me. But knowing it is clarifying. It sheds light on the doodling while listening. The music while thinking. The tapping while sitting still. The difficulty waiting. The impatience regarding that which I deem urgent and important.
As far as managing my neurodivergence, nothing really changes for me. I’ve already learned or created the compensation strategies that matter. What it does give me is a new appreciation for my superpowers—the unique ways of thinking and doing that have fueled my success. It helps me “get” why people who work with me say they’re fascinated by how my brain works. And it’s made me glad that people are making these discoveries about themselves earlier in life, so they can consciously maximize their strengths and mitigate any risks that might present themselves.
Ultimately, I know this: we are all special, and there is no “normal.’ Each of us can nurture that which makes us uniquely equipped to make a difference in the world and in the lives of those we touch. Each of us has a job to do that is waiting for only us to do it.
In one way or another, even if we’ve yet to discover it, we are all geniuses.
Tara Jaye Frank
