Roots I Once Avoided

For so much of my life, I longed for someone who could understand me.

But somewhere deep down, what I truly longed for was the ability to understand myself.

As I write this, I am learning to be softer with myself,

gentler in the way I hold my own past.

To grow into that softness, I have to meet the parts of me I once avoided.

This writing is my way of meeting myself honestly,

without rushing,

without hiding.

Sometimes we grow roots

long before we understand what they belong to.

A Moment I Wasn’t Ready to Meet

Nine years ago, I was diagnosed with ADHD.

I didn’t deny it.

I just couldn’t hold it.

It arrived too early,

before I had the emotional language

or the stability to meet it with clarity.

The idea of understanding it felt heavy,

like stepping into a story I wasn’t ready to read.

A part of me needed more time,

more grounding,

before I could look at this truth

and recognise it as mine.

The Stories That Shaped My Silence

I grew up in a place where ADHD was spoken about as something negative.

A problem.

Someone out of control.

Someone who needed fixing.

Someone difficult.

I didn’t want that story to be mine.

I didn’t want to believe there was something wrong with me.

So I pushed the diagnosis away

and distanced myself from everything people thought it meant.

The Part of Me I Learned to Hide

Over time, I hid this part of myself.

Not out of shame,

but because I didn’t understand how it shaped me.

I didn’t know how to talk about it,

and I didn’t know how to feel about it.

So I tucked it away, quietly,

like a seed buried before I understood it needed light.

I kept it hidden not because it was wrong,

but because I didn’t yet know how to hold it

without hurting myself.

Growing Up Without a Language for Myself

Growing up with ADHD was something I felt

long before I understood.

It showed up as sudden emotions,

shifting thoughts,

misunderstandings that built up silently,

and moments where I couldn’t explain my own reactions.

People often misunderstood me.

Sometimes I misunderstood myself.

A Home Where Feelings Had No Words

I grew up in a home where love was rarely spoken,

and feelings lived mostly through pain and silence.

We didn’t talk about gentleness or warmth.

We didn’t know how.

Teaching Myself How to Live

Without emotional language

and without guidance from the people who raised me,

I had to learn the world on my own.

I watched people closely,

studied what seemed expected,

and shaped myself around whatever made life easier for everyone else.

This made me soft in ways I didn’t yet understand.

It made me easy to influence,

easy to hurt,

easy to overlook,

not always intentionally,

but simply because I didn’t know how to protect the parts of me still forming.

I was young,

eager to help,

and desperate not to be a burden.

Seeing Myself With New Eyes

For years, I lived without understanding the patterns inside me.

Why I felt things so deeply.

Why I noticed what others didn’t.

Why my direction shifted without warning.

Why I felt too much and somehow not enough at the same time.

It took time, gentleness to realise

that ADHD wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the story I inherited about it.

What once felt like chaos

now looks more like depth.

What once frightened me

now feels like the very thing

that lets me experience life vividly.

Learning My Own Language

Now, slowly and softly, I am learning to understand myself.

Not through fear or shame, but through curiosity.

Nothing in me needs fixing.

I simply needed language,

guidance,

and room to grow.

And for the first time,

I am giving myself all three.

I am beginning to see that none of the parts I questioned were broken.

None of the feelings were too much.

None of the storms meant that something was wrong with me.

They were chapters of a story still unfolding,

a garden still learning its own seasons.

A mind growing in quiet ways

only I could understand.

There is comfort in realising

that growth does not always arrive loudly.

Some roots form slowly beneath the surface.

Some blooms open quietly, without an audience.

And all of them deserve light,

even the ones that learned to grow

in the quiet dark.

Yours truly,

TankeHagen♡

“ A gentle space for the roots we once avoided, now finding their way towards the light.”