I’m an educator with ADHD traveling to meet my favorite celebrity. Here’s how I’m functioning on little sleep.

Marissa Ford, 35, is an educator who was diagnosed with ADHD at the age of 33. She’s from Dallas, but she lives and works in Houston. She co-runs @blackgirladhd and loves spending time with her dog, Sushi. She’s consistent at being inconsistent but is trying to drop the inconsistent part. 

Day 1

 7:07 a.m. Crap, I was supposed to be up by 6 a.m. and on the road by 7 a.m. But of course, I had to get five more minutes of sleep, which then turned into 67 minutes! I should have known this was going to happen since it happens every day. 

I immediately pop out of bed like the undertaker. I scramble to quickly pack, only to remember I packed the night before. I do that a lot: oversleep, forget important things, forget what I did five minutes ago (let alone what I did before bed). Having ADHD makes it hard for your mind to stop, which is why it is so hard to fall asleep. Even when I manage to fall asleep, I feel like I only slept for a good five minutes. 

Having ADHD makes it hard to remember things, so I’m glad my past self knew to give my future self the love I need by packing the night before. I should do that more, give myself grace, and probably a meal or two (because what is food?). 

10:36 a.m. By the grace of God or the work of the devil, I made it on time to my mom’s surprise engagement. I’ll unpack later. Or maybe I’ll practice ADHD avoidance — I’m really good at that. Those of us with ADHD are good at putting things off. We don’t deal with it (sings: that’s just not my problem) until POOF, it is. I’m still trying to figure out how I got here on time, but I’m here. Let’s see how this goes. 

3:00 p.m. I just spent the last few hours existing, but not thriving. I felt every emotion under the sun and could not explain a single one of them. I had nothing but time and opportunity to unpack my feelings and thoughts as I drove the four hours back to Houston. 

Having ADHD comes with the gift of avoidance. We busy ourselves with everything other than what we’re supposed to be doing. On the flipside, when that focus comes, we have one hell of a tunnel vision. 

The drive provided me with the clarity I needed. It made me realize two things can be true at the same time. I can mourn the life I once had as a child and celebrate the love God has restored in my mom through her newfound love. But man, meeting him and watching them get engaged on the same day: −100/10, would not recommend. (Cue internal cartwheels of emotion.)

11:00 p.m. Nap time, 30 minutes. You only get 30 minutes, please, Marissa! 

Day 2

2:00 a.m. How did I oversleep again? This is the wildest question I could ask myself, because I know the answer. 

ADHD makes it hard for your brain to shut down. When you finally get to sleep, it’s never enough.

I have been running on fumes, but it will be worth it. I get to meet one of my favorite celebrities today: JoJo.

I told myself that I would take a tiger snooze for 30 minutes, which, per usual, turned into a few hours. Shout-out to my past self again for advocating for my future self. I really am the GOAT (greatest of all time) at pattern recognition. The pattern is lying to myself about how much I’m going to sleep. 

Tonight’s sleep situation is nothing new. I have so much to do for work, the anticipation is like Christmas Eve. But with no presents. 

Nothing gets me going more than coming close to missing a deadline. I spend the next four hours “beating the clock.” I have to arrive at work by 6:15 a.m. to prepare for a Grandparents’ Day breakfast before I hit the road on my mini escape.

6:18 a.m. I make it on time(ish) to work. Time to get this show on the road.

7:00 a.m. More than 75 grandparents showed up for our event. 

8:30 a.m. I just dropped off my dog Sushi at her daycare and she could not care less. She secretly knows that I impulsively added all of the perks they try to sell you at check-in. I’ll cry about this later to my dad and beg for compensation for my self-inflicted pain and suffering. 

I am, of course, running extremely late for my flight. Luckily my flight is delayed so I can hightail it to the airport in enough time. The anxiety I continue to cause myself is stressful but something I’m unsure I can support myself with. That reminds me, I need to make an appointment with my psychiatrist.

9:02 a.m. My plane leaves in 45 minutes. At security, they put my bag through the machine three times and thanked me for my patience. I do not have patience. Ever. I’m working on that, but the way my impulse control is, patience doesn’t exist in my body. 

Right before I get on the plane, my boss informs me that I will be receiving a call or text from her boss. I get an instant stomachache. I don’t know if my stomach could be any more knotted. My thoughts begin to race. Am I in trouble? What did I do? Did I say something crazy? Oh God! Help!

3:52 p.m. I land in North Carolina and catch a ride with Mark, my delightful Uber driver. He was a great guy, so I hope he doesn’t mind that I shaved my legs in the car on the way to the book signing. 

I was born in North Carolina so it feels good to be “home,” but my purpose for being here is to meet JoJo. I mapped out this entire trip to fly to North Carolina and then fly to New York to see her in Moulin Rouge. 

6:53 p.m. Life is made! JoJo said she likes my shoes. I instantly do my happy dance. I liken it to zoomies for a dog. It feels both strange and liberating at the same time. I used to mask this to fit in. Masking is when neurodivergent people hide aspects of themselves to appear in a way that society deems “normal.” 

Back to the airport and off to New York I go.

1:00 a.m. I finally land in New York — well really New Jersey. I get a $144 Uber and check into my hotel. I am exhausted. In my mind, I think I’m a spring chicken. But my body reminds me with every step I take that I am not. 

Good night.

Day 3

9:45 a.m. Just call me the 15-minute mami! I wake up at 9:45 and am so excited that breakfast doesn’t end until 10 a.m. So naturally, I hop on a call with my friends only to realize I only have four minutes to throw some clothes on and head down to breakfast. I don’t know why I constantly live life on the edge. I consider ADHD my superpower. It allows me to do things through anxiety-induced deadlines, which strengthens me. 

3:41 p.m. Almost 5,000 steps later, I successfully download New York City’s transit app. I realize I forgot my inhaler and got lost three times, but I finally make it to Times Square. 

I really think I could live in NYC. The hustle and bustle of the city keeps my adrenaline going and provides me with the dopamine I need. I often call my relationship with ADHD and Adderall “My Chemical Romance.” I thrive in experiences and atmospheres that allow me to get what I need without feeling like I have to take my medicine. 

7:31 p.m. I know I said I could live in New York, but I quickly change my mind after seeing the rats in the subway station. The NYC subway is not a real place. Everything here that shouldn’t be believable somehow is. *Clicks heels.* Take me back to Texas. But not before I meet up with one of my oldest and most entertaining friends, Vernon.

10:00 p.m. Seeing Vernon has made my entire night and trip. The kiki was what my heart never knew I needed. We chatted over “tinis.” He made his extra dirty and I made mine espresso.   

Our conversations were rooted in where we are in life and where we thought we would be. Joke’s on us, because we are exactly where we should be, despite what we thought. I am so proud of him and his journey. I miss him already. 

I felt so warm after our evening. That is until I had to navigate the subway system again! Why would someone cut all of us waiting in line?