"My mind is like someone emptied the junk drawer onto a trampoline.”

From post-it notes to keys, pens, rubber bands, & receipts, the unorganized chaos of a junk drawer is the perfect representation of what goes on in the mind of someone with ADHD. In this personal mixed media experience inside the ADHD mind,

“Neurodivergent” follows the filmmaker’s journey as she discovers her ADHD diagnosis. When she turns the camera on herself and her family to process what this diagnosis means, she also discovers why so many women with ADHD are undiagnosed and the dire consequences on their lives.

Part of our Short Docs 1: DIFFERENCE Program

Director Afton Quast Saler

Director Statement:

In a way, I began the development of this film on the first day of Elementary school. Or at least, it's the first time I knew I was different and that it might be a bad thing. I remember the classroom as if I was sitting there now looking at that whiteboard: the spelling words of the day mix around in my head as my brain takes the colors and shapes and makes them into an exciting story, something it wants to understand. I look out the window to calm myself and see the family of birds I've noticed the past week. They have been making a nest that has grown two times in size in only a day! As I ponder the birds' process to build this beautiful nest, I look back at the board to realize I have no clue what the teacher is writing or saying. I sense my face flushing red and feel the familiar rush of shame wash over me. Looking down at my notebook in embarrassment, I pretend to read. If I don't look up, maybe no one will notice how dumb I am. Does it show? This was my school experience before I knew I had dyslexia and ADHD.

I always assumed I was too right-brained to go to college. My sister was the smart one, and I was, well, very creative, curious, and unique. I loved learning, but the anxiety I felt every time I entered the classroom was crippling. I constantly waited for someone to discover I didn't belong there. I remember playing a spelling bee game in the 5th grade and breaking into a cold sweat before it was my turn to go up and spell a word on the board. I was asked to spell "success," the irony of which was not lost on me then or now. I mixed up the letters, and the whole room burst into laughter. I asked to go to the restroom and cried until the bell rang. In the girls' bathroom stall, I decided I never wanted to feel that way again.

So, after being home-schooled in high school and then dropping out of classes at community college, I stopped going. What was the point? Something was wrong with me, and that was that. I would focus on my acting career and do my best to hide my difficulties. But fortunately for my academic career, I'm also competitive and stubborn. It killed me to think there was something I wasn't capable of. I knew if I didn't go back to school and succeed, there would always be a part of me that let my fear stop me from my love of learning.

It took me four years of finishing transfer work, one year at USC, a year and a half on neuropsychological exam waitlists, and a loan for five thousand dollars to finally get the answers I needed to stop thinking I was broken. The day my neuropsychologist Anne gave me my test results showing I had a learning disability, I cried. Not because I was sad, but because I finally knew I wasn't dumb. "You're very smart, Afton," she explained, "You just see the world differently than other people." It was at this life-changing moment that I started filming.

Being neurodivergent and finding out so much more than I ever thought I would about what that means during the production of this film has been frustrating, insightful, funny, sad, beautiful; the list could go on. But there is not a day that goes by that I regret sharing my experience. Girls and women need the confidence to move forward with their diagnosis and the accessibility to the tools needed to succeed. Few things in life are more important to me than creating art that drives people to look inward to make the changes we need outward. My experience is only one of the thousands. Still, I'm hopeful the film will inspire others to stop the stigma and the shame around ADHD and allow neurodivergent people to focus on the unique qualities we have to share with the world.

There are times I still mourn the loss of a life I feel was stolen from me. If I had known sooner, would I be different? If I wasn't neurodivergent, would I be more successful? Maybe. But I also wouldn't be the filmmaker, artist, and human being I am. I wouldn't have been able to find a team of like-minded people to show what it's like firsthand to have ADHD and create a film to help women like me feel less alone, help loved ones understand a little better, and show women they aren't broken and don't need to be fixed. I hope this film will bring a new look and open discussion relating to learning disabilities and ADHD, ending a stigma that keeps ADHD a disorder and not just a difference. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for spending the last 10 minutes reading this. Or at least I think it was 10 minutes, but I'm time blind, so I'm honestly not sure. Either way, thank you for joining me on this journey.