This post is part of a series looking back on my experiences in navigating a life-changing ADHD diagnosis while also trying to prepare for my first solo marathon swim, and how these two things collided together in the most perfect way.
I’ve chosen to share my story openly so that it might help others who also dream of accomplishing big scary goals but feel held back by challenges they face in their own lives, no matter what those might be. I also hope my writing creates discussion, understanding, acceptance and inclusion for those that seek it.
This is a deeply personal journey. You're invited to engage in positive and productive discourse with me if you'd like, always happy to chat, but negative judgement isn't welcome here. Kindly move along if these posts – and me – are not for you!
Lac Memphremagog - Newport, Vermont 2023:
The lake glimmered in the moonlight, and loons called out across the water...
I couldn't hear a thing, I had earplugs in and my face down in dark water the whole time.
But I'm told it was lovely.
On September 5th, 2023 I became the first Canadian woman to complete In Search of Memphre ("The Search"), a 40km/25mile swim crossing Lac Memphremagog from Newport, Vermont to Magog, Quebec. This was my very first solo marathon swim, and something I'm proud to have accomplished. But few people know the journey that I took to get there, to find the courage to be standing at the edge of the lake in the dark that night, waiting to get into the water at the start. My life was changed by this swim in so many wonderful ways.
I've wanted to tell this story for some time, but it's been hard to find the right words or decide how much to share. I have no shame about who I am, so here goes.
Let me take you way back...
I had never been an overly confident person, there were passing moments in my life where I'd felt confidence, but it was never something that was deeply rooted in how I carried or thought about myself. I was a really shy kid. I was happy, loved and had friends, but I struggled with things that seemed easier for others to manage. School was especially hard, I liked learning but couldn't focus or finish assignments unless I had a lot of help, things often felt disorganized and confused. I couldn't easily put my thoughts into words whenever I was nervous and would stumble over them when I went to speak. I'd disappear into my own head whenever I felt uncomfortable in my surroundings. I was often behind, and couldn't keep up no matter how I tried. Over time I came to see myself as lazy, unmotivated, unintelligent, sensitive. Even as a youngster I could tell that I didn't fit in to the world around me very well, and I learned to stay hidden by making myself small and quiet whenever I felt unsafe.
This was me.
I describe it now as "disconnect", and it was a feeling I carried into my teenage years and eventually my adult life. I dropped out of high school for awhile, which I still think of as one of the best decisions I've ever made - when I finally decided to go back, I was ready to pour everything I had into getting decent grades so that I could go to university. Things in my head kept growing more chaotic and disorganized, but my university years were a blessing in many ways. Living on my own and choosing to study things that interested me gave me the freedom and independence to manage my life as I saw fit. I still struggled with getting my assignments done, but I discovered how to stay up the night before something was due and hyperfocus into the wee hours of the morning to finish it, hand it in, head to bed. It was my "superpower", I got pretty good grades and eventually graduated with 3 degrees.
Going to school the second time around made me realize I was smart, curious, analytical, introspective. And that felt good, I started to see myself differently even though my inner chaos and dysfunctions were still there. I started teaching classes at the university, and learned to stand tall and command the attention of a study hall filled with noisy first-year students. I tutored students, marked papers for my professors, worked abroad for a summer on a student exchange program. I took on a lot during those years, wanting to learn and grow as much as I possibly could. But trying to manage it all eventually took its toll, and I developed anxiety symptoms, which have since stayed with me.
Life went on, I moved away for work, married a great guy, built a happy life, and tried to find ways to cope when I couldn't keep up with things. I kept wanting to correct and perfect myself to meet the "norm" or whatever others expected of me, which never really worked, and I started being really hard on myself too, which didn't help either. I continued to hide behind my smile, hoping no one would notice parts of me weren't managing very well at all.
It took 44 years of my life to first learn why. In 2017, I started seeing a therapist in the hopes of making peace with difficult experiences from my earlier years. You don’t need the details about what exactly to appreciate how this journey evolved, but it helps to understand that not all things heal on their own. I'm someone who needs closure to find peace and healing, even if that happens in my own mind and heart alone. It's how I'm built, I need to process my feelings or things just stay jumbled up in my head.
Going to therapy didn't help, and I hated talking to a stranger about myself. A few sessions in, the therapist delicately suggested I consider getting screened for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). She'd noted a number of markers and thought it might help to know if this played any part in how I was feeling and functioning. It upset me that there might be something about me that was...disordered. Maybe I just wasn't ready to open up, maybe it wasn't a good fit. I stopped going, and told myself ADHD was probably bullshit anyhow, I just needed to try harder to be better and everything would work out just fine.
It wasn't, and it didn't.
Lac Massawippi - North Hatley, Quebec 2016:
The wind stirred up the lake, and we played in the waves together for hours...
Swimming has always made me feel good, no matter what else is going on in my life. Water has a way of doing that, and I find joy there effortlessly. I joined a master's swim club in my 30s, and met the best kind of people, they loved being in water too. We started swimming together at the lake on weekends, gathered for coffee and treats afterwards, chatting, laughing. We grew closer, I could let my guard down and be more myself. No one seemed to notice or mind the weird me, chaotic me. I'd be teased lovingly sometimes, but never felt judged for who I was. I felt lifted up, and their friendship made me braver.
I felt drawn to longer distance swimming, so I started signing up for events in the Northeast Kingdom (NEK) of Vermont in 2014. The "Kingdom tribe" was warm and welcoming too, it's a place that feels like a second home to me. Despite being an introvert at heart, swimming continued to bring out a side of me that is very much the opposite. I'm less shy, more open, more expressive. And kinda loud sometimes, it turns out. Every single thing that I've done in the Kingdom has made me a stronger swimmer and a happier person, even those things I didn't succeed at. I love my swimming life, and my swimming community.
And then one day, I just knew. In August of 2016, I swam across Lac Massawippi in Quebec, not located in the NEK but a swim organized by the same group. This would be my very first marathon-distance lake crossing, 14km. It was a foggy, rainy day, and the wind was kicking up. It was a tough swim, and I loved every single minute. A few kilometres from the finish, I realized that not only was I swimming well but the usual chaos in my head was quiet. I felt completely present, and the water moving past my shoulders and body was calming even though I was pushing through headwind. I had found a peaceful place, where I belonged. We weren't even at the finish yet, and my thoughts turned to doing more. But the idea of taking on a big scary swim goal is terrifying when there's a part of you that isn't settled yet.
I eventually did sign up to swim The Search in 2018. But when the time came to commit, I lost courage and deferred the swim by a year, and then we couldn’t cross the border for two more years due to the pandemic. I admit, a part of me wasn't sad to see it deferred two years longer. I'll have more time to figure things out, I told myself, but deep down there was a nagging voice telling me I didn't have what it takes to do hard things.
Some days, I would feel a surge of bravery and could visualize myself in the water. In those moments of clarity, I knew I was in fact very capable. But mostly I worried that something this big and awesome wasn't really meant for someone like me, like maybe I wouldn't be able to figure it out enough. I kept trying to change my mindset, to be more positive, but my feelings of doubt didn't go away, they were anchored deeply inside me. Imposter syndrome crept in, and I started to question if my swims before this had just been good luck and not evidence of any skill or commitment to do more. I didn't have the confidence to own any of it. And each year that passed by without The Search happening felt like a new personal failure, deepening the feelings that I wasn't good enough, I wasn't really capable.
But I was a good swimmer, and I wanted it badly, so what the fuck?
Northumberland Strait - New Brunswick 2022:
My mom died, I broke a rib off my sternum, and I figured out some heavy shit...
It sounds kinda grim, but it's my story, what I experienced. It takes courage to be vulnerable and speak openly about who you are, knowing that others may judge it as weakness, victim talk, negative mindset. But vulnerability is a strength that I'm very proud of, and part of the beauty of personal growth is not minding much what other people think about you. Letting go of expectations - other than my own - is how I eventually came to find myself.
Things got heavy before they started to get better though...
My mom was diagnosed with Progressive Supranuclear Palsy (PSP), a degenerative disease with symptoms similar to Parkinson's. We moved back to the maritimes in January of 2020, thinking we had a few years left with her and wanting to make the most of it. She passed away on the afternoon of New Year's eve of that same year. I got to witness first-hand how precious the time you have left in this life really is.
The Canada/US border reopened in late 2021. The swim director reached out and asked if I was putting my name forward for The Search again. I reached deep and replied firmly: I will show up and I will get in that water, no matter what. Well ok then he said, with a gentle smile. I had to find a way to figure my dysfunctional shit out.
I started working with my swim coach on a training plan, and we focused on swim technique, feeds, mindset. Things were going well, having a big goal helped direct and focus my energy, and figuring things out started to build my confidence. A couple of months before the swim, I tripped and fell and broke a rib off my sternum. My season was done, I'd have to swim The Search in 2023. It sucked, and I had shitty complications. But I healed, and developed new appreciation and love for my body.
6 months later, we dusted off the training plan and got to work again. I tried really hard to follow it, but things kept falling off track. I tried to feel brave, but I still didn't trust my abilities. I decided to dedicate time exploring what the heck was going on in my own head, and discovered some very uncomfortable things: - I couldn’t maintain a consistent training schedule and felt like a loser... - I struggled with body image and weight gain and felt ashamed I had no control... - I had little sense of athletic identity and didn’t know where I belonged... - I often talked myself into not starting or stepping down when things got scary...
I knew it was important to train my body to be strong, but I was never getting across that lake if I didn't deal with my lack of confidence too. I've mentioned my swim coach here, and looking back I see that the work we did together at this point was very much a catalyst to changes that happened later. “We need to figure out what it would take for you to get across that lake to the other side!”, she exclaimed one day, spoken with great patience and a smile. Something in her words resonated, and I kept coming back to them in mind.
What it would take for ME to get across...
So, not what I’m expected to do just because everyone else tells me to do it?
But what I need, me, Nadine? I get to ask that? How do I even know what that is?
We started working really hard on things, swimming things but also head space things. I'd tell her what was falling apart in my training, she'd suggest alternatives. I'd be frustrated for missing workouts, she'd remind me that I was already doing plenty. I'd tell her something wasn't working for me, we'd try to figure out what to adapt. She didn't push me to toughen up - that doesn't work for me, if years of beating myself up hadn't already changed these parts of me there's not much someone else can say that will. Instead, she challenged me to figure out how to find what I needed - for me, and me alone. It seems simple, and maybe neither of us really understood the bigger impact at the time, but it was a really big shift for me, and my own needs started to come first, in my swim training and then in other aspects of my personal growth.
The more I learned about myself through my swim training, the more I came to accept that ADHD was a fact of how my brain was wired. I wasn't lazy, weak, stupid or messed-up even. My brain functions differently, and I had been fighting my whole life to fit into a mold I wasn't made for instead of accepting myself for who I was and how I was built, and finding ways to accommodate and nurture that. I was eventually formally diagnosed as ADHD combination type inattentive/hyperactive (big shocker there), and screened positive for 5 additional co-morbidities, which are disorders with associated/overlapping symptoms. None of those came as a surprise to me either, I'm comfortable sharing some of them and you'll hear more as my story unfolds: autism (mild), anxiety disorder and binge eating disorder.
Fighting how I was made for all those years had left me self-conscious and doubtful about who I was. I kept trying to adjust myself to whatever others told me I should be or do. But training for The Search became my time to explore self-awareness, self-acceptance and self-love, not just to help my swimming goals but to finding a happier me. I committed to being kind and compassionate toward myself every day, all day long, even when it was hard, even when I didn't feel I deserved it. I became a gentle observer of my own journey, letting go of my self-judgement, and started looking with curiosity at how ADHD affected my daily life in both negative and positive ways. I leveraged my strengths, embraced my differences, adapted and found tools that helped me function better. My confidence soared.
And then I started to absolutely fucking nail my training...
By the time I showed up in Vermont for my swim, I wasn't the same person anymore. It takes courage to look inside yourself, to be curious, vulnerable, brutally honest, and willing to ask yourself hard questions about who you are and what YOU need for yourself in order to find your place in this world - not just to fit in, but to actually belong in it. I healed many parts of myself on this journey, and it was hard work but it was everything to me. I love and respect myself as I am, and expect the same from others who want to know me. Some may see me as too much, too difficult, too different. And some may see me as too little, too weak, too weird. But there will be those that see me as perfectly delightful just as I am. I learned to hold myself differently, and I wouldn't change my experiences or who I am for anything.
I rolled into town with a big smile, at peace with myself, deeply confident and excited to embrace the adventure of my swim. It was a feeling of perfect calm. I was finally ready.
Standing alone at the water's edge in the dark that night, I felt warm air move across my shoulders and I remember thinking to myself...getting to the start was the hardest part for you, and you did it, you're really here. And you're ok with whatever happens next, even if you don't finish the swim, standing right here is your success. This was the most powerful moment of the swim for me, and I hadn't even stepped into the water yet...
I also remember needing to pee real bad, hurry up geez when can I get in already?!
Northumberland Strait - New Brunswick 2024:
Looking back, a wrap-up...
This is already a pretty long post, so if you're curious about the practical side of how I managed my health and my training, you can continue reading here:
Adapting my approach to swim training (video coming!)
I want to leave you with a few thoughts, things I learned along the way:
Make it your goal to live fully, whatever that means for you. You might seek big adventures, you might choose a quiet life - anything you choose to be and do will be your own amazing. But whatever you choose, do it with everything in your heart.
Take the time to understand what you need and want to make the years you have left here on this earth the best they can be, learn to set both goals and boundaries, and create a laneway made for you to thrive in. Protect and nurture that space.
Putting yourself out there AS YOU ARE will be scary, but you will find strength and peace in doing so and the courage to take on whatever you want in your life, I promise. Know that you won't always be accepted by others, and you will likely be judged too - and learn to be ok with it, it's just how life works.
Be the best you can, everyday. I'm not perfect and I make mistakes, but I'm kind, open, genuine, honest, accountable. And I'm here for it. Learn to give yourself the same grace that you are expected to give others, we humans are all flawed.
If you haven't been through experiences like mine (and many others), I ask this: learn to check your judgement. Don't make assumptions you have no facts from the source about, if you have questions, just ask. Being truly inclusive (and loving!) in any community means first reserving your own judgement of others, in how they function and in what they need in order to participate in that community. Don't assume, don't criticize - just honour people as they are. This journey helped me see others differently too, and to support where I'm needed even if I don't understand why, and that's made me a better person, friend, wife, manager.
I'm proud of the work I put into who I am, but no journey is undertaken alone and I'm grateful to have a support network of friends and family who are there for me. Who sit with me when I struggle, who lift me up when I'm low, who push me to be better when I falter, who celebrate with me when I succeed. Much love, high-fives all around. Thank you.
What comes next? More long lakes, chilly channel crossings? Maybe, I don't yet know what I want my swimming adventures to be, and I'm just getting back into the swing of things. I do know that my worth as a beautiful being here on earth isn't measured by attempting to cross any body of water, it's in me, simply me. But I also know that after swimming The Search, I can do pretty much anything I put my mind to.
Happy adventuring, and thanks for reading...
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