Undiagnosed

“I can’t sleep, the wall is buzzing!” my 4-year-old student protested during naptime.

“Oh, he’s just making excuses again.” My coworker rolled her eyes and gave me a can-you-believe-this-kid kind of look.

But I could hear it too. I have always heard it. The buzzing had been a constant companion since childhood, a familiar yet unwanted presence that distanced me from normalcy. It hung over my head, hiding in fluorescent lights while my eyes danced across text, unable to focus on any one word. The interference also manifested as the ticking clock on the wall across the room, the tapping of the pens in my classmates’ hands, and as the gentle carbonation of the freshly cracked can on my desk. I thought I was the only one who could hear it.

I walked up to the thermostat and listened. Yup, the familiar buzzing was coming from the wall. A buzz so low and steady you wouldn’t notice it unless it stopped. I looked over towards my student- the only one still awake. Although it was dark, I could see his tired eyes looking up at me. Not just tired; exhausted. Suddenly this little boy made me realize something about myself. This little boy who had outbursts, struggled talking to others, trouble identifying his emotions, caused problems for us since day one. His confusion welled up as angry tears and acted as a mirror; reflecting back the face of the blonde little girl who couldn’t sit comfortably if she could feel her toes touching each other. Who would sit as quietly as possible throughout her whole school day, only to melt down as soon as she reached the safety of her home’s welcome mat. It all made sense now and I could’ve understood this whole time.

***

It’s been years since I taught preschool, and I still think of his tired eyes. Every time I get told “but you have great eye contact.” and “but you’re doing so well in school!” and “but you seem so put together.” Every time I leave another doctor’s office or psychiatrist, I think of how I’ve practiced living normally.

“We don’t really diagnose that here.” and “It’s harder to tell in women.” and “well, what do you want, medicine?” I think of the exhausted little girl I was, struggling to sleep at nap time because I could hear the walls.