I had my first difficult conversation post ADHD diagnosis, and it didn't go as I had hoped. At the same time, I think it went better than I could have dreamed.
I've known Jana for years. We worked together. I don't know why I had a soft spot for her. I thought she was smart and classy. You wouldn't catch her gossiping or engaged in drama. Not self promoting; she's the kind of person you worry is overlooked. That was the package I saw: nice, bright, and above it all.
I organized and threw a birthday party for her once. I recently found the leftover napkins and streamers I bought stashed in my party supply suitcase in my basement. (Don't ask.) Some years later, I happily served as a reference for her. She couldn't ask her previous boss (that was a big fat clue, by the way), so I stepped in. I was Team Jana.
When I had the opportunity, I hired her as a consultant for more than 2 years at a different job. During that time she moved to Canada to spend a year on her Grandmother's farm and was paid, without benefits, a salary commensurate with a junior executive. And she didn't work on Wednesdays. She had a sweet deal, if I do say so myself.
One day, when she shared that she was unhappy with how her career seemed stalled, I offered up my network and support. I even shared a bit about my own experiences when I had a career slump.
I really thought I had done right by her. I thought she was one relationship I managed to maintain well. I was Team Jana!
But over time, another picture began to emerge. Toby, her coworker expressed frustration that Jana was struggling to accomplish tasks, and shared that when he confronted her with examples, she refused any responsibility. He seemed a little shaken by her reaction, and in hindsight, I should have listened to him. But I was Team Jana, so I let it slide.
I started to see it myself. She could start projects, but often left them far from the finish line. When she did complete something, it was often pages and pages of text pasted into a PowerPoint from online sources. She struggled to whittle it down and make it usable. She always had just one piece of information she couldn't get .... one big question she needed answered ... one more source she needed to check ... one more week ... then another ... then ... nothing.
One time, minutes before a big meeting with the CEO and a potential customer, she sent out an email canceling it. I myself had prepared for hours, even doing some of the work she was supposed to do. Turns out, she had forgotten to arrange for someone to pick her daughter up from daycare--a regular occurrence that could result in her daughter losing her spot. I was kind about it, and I covered for her. How could I judge? My ADHD had put me in that type of situation numerous times. Perhaps she had it too, and I was Team Jana!
But after that, it didn't get better. I was worried the team would lose respect for me if I didn't address it. I put on my big girl executive pants (and I mean that literally, because damn, I have been stress eating over this sh*t) and prepared to talk to her about it. I could have just severed the agreement, paid her off, and been done. But I fancy myself a good person, and I now know I have ADHD, so I needed to do right by the human in both of us. I would have the dreaded "talk".
I prepared the four Ds of difficult conversations. Discovery: I would like to understand what it is that is causing the delays in work. Define: These are the examples I am seeing.
I never got to the third D because we never got past the examples. Just like she had done to Toby, she lost it, like someone pulled a zipper down from the top of her head and split her "nice, bright, and above it all" suit in half and a ferocious animal stepped out: like a hungry, spiteful, bloodthirsty (and pretty fricking ungrateful) circus lion, with nothing to lose, who'd taken its last whipping. And she went straight for the pulsating spot on my throat.
Adderral and I held it together, but it wasn't easy. I decided it was time to move off Team Jana, and count my many, expensive losses. We were grown adults. She just had a bad reaction. We will get through.
Later that week, I was informed by a coworker that Jana was saying very "ungenerous" things about me to others on my team. I guess that well-paid year with Grandma Ruby on the farm did nothing for her manners.
Why am I telling you all of this?
Because this is the first time I have handled a sticky situation since my diagnosis. This time, I knew going in that I am governed by an emotional brain. This time, I can see my role in this situation more clearly. I can separate my reactions into two categories: 1. The ones my impulsive, overwhelmed, emotional brain wants to take, and 2. the actions I actually take now that I have new understanding (and medication).
This is nothing short of a miracle. Before, I would be the equivalent of a shivering, angry rabbit plotting an elaborate revenge I will never take, stumbling over my words, and sounding way more condescending than I mean to. I'd worry about the damage she has done, how many people she's turned against me. I'd be paralyzed with fear.
But I'm not.
I plod forward. I consult with legal and HR. I send a termination letter. I let other people's opinions of me remain in their safekeeping, and I pray that my relationships are strong enough to withstand her toxic words.
But, I'm worried. It hurts a lot. I am unsure.
For decades, my ADHD has caused me to feel and behave in ways that weren't appropriate for the situation. And that has caused me to blame myself for everything, including other people's sh*tty behavior. How do you hold a moral high ground when you are so reactionary? Had I not been aware of my condition, this situation would have ended way worse. Even though I was doing right by Jana, treating her as I would like to be treated, offering unspoken accommodations, it became clear that I was never on her team ... nor she on mine. Now it is high time I captain my own team and finally accept the bitter truth:
Jana's just a b*tch.