The World at a Different Speed
Zoe’s
alarm goes off, but she hits
the snooze button
three times before dragging herself out of
bed, it is a fair statement to say, she is
not a morning person. Mornings are always
chaotic, she’s constantly running late,
forgetting things and getting frustrated
with herself. Her dad calls her again, she
finally goes to the bathroom and washes and
gets dressed. Even though her mornings are
chaotic, there is a structure that she needs
to follow. “You have 10 minutes and then you
need to go.” Shouts her dad. 20 minutes
later, she is still getting ready, she now
knows her dad will have to drive her to
school now. For Zoe, school is a whirlwind
of incomplete assignments, forgotten
homework and constant reminders to “pay
attention.”
Zoe’s
mind races faster than she can keep up,
jumping from one thought to the next. Her
teachers mean well, but she feels their
patience is wearing thin and she’s starting
to feel like she’s a lost cause. Next year
she will be going to college and she can’t
wait to go, but for now she is stuck with
school. Zoe has always felt like she’s out
of sync with the world. Diagnosed with ADHD
a few years ago, she struggles to keep up with
school, maintain friendships and meet the
expectations of those around her. As she
navigates the challenges of her life, Zoe
learns to embrace her unique way of thinking
and discovers that being different isn’t a
weakness but a strength.
Zoe’s
relationships with her
family and friends are equally
turbulent. She’s funny and creative and her
friends appreciate her spontaneity, but they
don’t understand why she can’t focus on
their conversations or why she blurts out
things without thinking. Sometimes, Zoe
feels like she’s on the outside looking in,
watching her friends connect in ways she
struggles to replicate. She’s often invited
to join a group, but ends up feeling more
isolated in the group because of her
constant fear of saying or doing something
“weird.” Zoe sat at her desk, staring at the
math problems in front of her, but her mind
was elsewhere, flitting from the song stuck
in her head to the colour of the sky
outside, to the doodles she’d drawn in the
margins of her exercise book.
She
knew she should be focusing, that she needed
to get her homework done before her mum came
in to check on her, but concentrating on one
thing for more than a few minutes felt like
trying to hold water in her hands. “Zoe! Are
you listening?” Her teacher’s voice snapped
her back to the present. She looked up,
realising that the entire class was staring
at her, waiting for an answer to a question
she hadn’t heard. “can you repeat that?” Zoe
mumbled, her cheeks burning with
embarrassment. A few students laughed and
her teacher, Mrs. Grant, sighed. “I asked if
you could explain the next step in the
problem on the board.” Zoe glanced at the
board, but it was just a blur of numbers and
letters. She shook her head slightly. “I
don’t know.”
Mrs. Grant’s
expression softened slightly. “It’s okay, Zoe.
Just try to pay attention, okay?” Zoe nodded,
though she knew it wasn’t that simple. It never
was. Her last year at school was supposed to be
easier by now, but for Zoe, every day felt like
running a marathon with no end in sight. She
could never seem to get things right, no matter
how hard she tried. School was a whirlwind of
missed assignments, lost notes and
half-remembered instructions. Her teachers were
patient, but she could sense their growing
frustration. Zoe knew she was smart, at least,
that’s what her parents and doctors always told
her, but it was like her brain was tuned to a
different frequency than everyone else’s. Her
friends didn’t seem to understand, either.
They liked
her well enough, she was fun, always up for an
adventure and could make them laugh when they
were down. But when it came to serious
conversations or group projects, Zoe often found
herself on the sidelines. It wasn’t that she
didn’t care; she cared too much. But her mind
would wander and before she knew it, the moment
had passed, leaving her behind. Lunchtime was
the worst, the cafeteria was a collection of
noise, with students shouting, trays clattering
and chairs scraping against the floor. Zoe sat
with her usual group, Ava, her best friend since
forever; Sarah, who was the queen of gossip; and
Megan, who was quiet but always kind. Today,
though, the conversation was about the upcoming
science project and Zoe’s anxiety was already
building.
“I was
thinking we could do
something on volcanoes,” Ava said,
eating her sandwich.
“We could build a model and show how they
erupt.” “Yes, that cool,” Sarah agreed. “But we
should include some research on how different
types work.” Megan
nodded, smiling slightly. “I could handle the
research part.” They all looked at Zoe, who was
picking at her food, lost in thought. “What do
you think, Zoe?” Ava asked. Zoe blinked,
realising they were waiting for her input. “Yes.
Sounds great.” Ava frowned slightly. “You sure?
You seemed a bit out of it.” “I’m fine,” Zoe
said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just thinking.”
They moved on with the discussion, but Zoe could
tell that Ava wasn’t convinced. She hated
feeling like the weak link, the one who always
had to be dragged along.
Zoe’s
parents have known about her ADHD since she was
young, but as she gets older, the challenges
become more pronounced. After another
frustrating day at school, Zoe has a meltdown at
home, overwhelmed by her inability to keep up.
Her parents sit her down and remind her that
ADHD isn’t a reflection of her intelligence or
worth, but rather a different way of processing
the world. They decide to meet with her doctor
again to explore new ways of
managing her ADHD, including therapy and
possibly adjusting her medication. Zoe had been
diagnosed with ADHD after years of struggling in
school and feeling like she was always on the
verge of falling apart. Her parents had taken
her to see a doctor after yet another round of
complaints from her teachers.
The
diagnosis had been both a relief and a burden.
It was comforting to know that there was a
reason for why she felt so out of sync with
everyone else, but it also made her feel like
there was something fundamentally wrong with
her. She hated the way people talked about her
“condition,” as if it defined who she was. Zoe
was more than her ADHD, but sometimes it felt
like that was all anyone saw. Her parents were
supportive, always reminding her that it didn’t
make her less capable, just different. They
worked with her teachers to make sure she had
the tools she needed, extra time on tests,
permission to use fidgets in class and regular
check-ins to help her stay on track. But despite
all the support, Zoe still struggled.
She wanted
so badly to be like everyone else, to have a
mind that worked the way it was supposed to, but
she couldn’t change who she was. Zoe starts
therapy with a counsellor who specialises in
ADHD. At first, she’s sceptical, she’s heard all
the advice before: “make lists,” “stay organised,”
“take breaks.” But her counsellor introduces her
to new techniques that resonate more with how
her brain works, like using art, crafts to
express her emotions and setting up a reward
system for completing tasks. Slowly, Zoe begins
to see small changes. She’s not perfect, and the
struggle is still there, but she starts feeling
a bit more in control. The science project
loomed over Zoe like a dark cloud. She wanted to
do well, not just for herself but for her
friends.
She knew
they were counting on her to pull her weight and
she didn’t want to let them down. But as the
deadline approached, Zoe’s anxiety grew. She
kept telling herself she would start her part of
the project “tomorrow,” but tomorrow kept
slipping away. The night before the project was
due, Zoe sat at her desk, staring at the blank
document on her computer screen. Her heart
pounded in her chest, and her thoughts raced.
How was she supposed to write a report on
volcanoes when she could barely remember what
they had discussed in class? She pulled up the
research Megan had sent, but the words swam
before her eyes. She read the same sentence
three times without absorbing any of it. Tears
of frustration welled up in her eyes.
Why
couldn’t she just do this? It wasn’t that hard,
other did it all the time without breaking a
sweat. But for Zoe, every assignment felt like
climbing a mountain with no clear path to the
top. In the end, she cobbled together a few
paragraphs, but she knew it wasn’t enough. The
next day, when she handed her part to Ava, she
could see the disappointment in her friend’s
eyes. “Is this all you did?” Ava asked, trying
to keep her voice steady. Zoe nodded, ashamed.
“I’m sorry, I just, I tried, but.” Ava sighed,
shaking her head. “We needed more than this,
Zoe. We’re supposed to present tomorrow, and now
we’re going to have to stay up all night fixing
this.” Zoe felt a lump in her throat. “I’ll
help. I can come over and.” “It’s fine,” Ava
interrupted. “We’ll handle it.
Just try to
do better next time, okay?” The words stung, and
Zoe nodded silently, feeling like a failure. In
school, Zoe’s class is assigned a group project
that counts for a large part of their grade.
Zoe’s group consists of her best friend, Ava,
and two other classmates who are known for being
meticulous and focused. Zoe is excited at first,
she has great ideas and wants to contribute. But
as the deadline approaches, her ADHD gets the
better of her. She misses meetings, forgets
important details and struggles to follow the
group’s plan. Her friends, especially Ava, get
frustrated and tensions rise. Zoe feels like
she’s letting everyone down. The group project
falls apart and Zoe’s classmates are upset with
her.
Ava, who has always been patient,
finally snaps and says something hurtful,
blaming Zoe for the project’s failure. Zoe is
devastated. She feels like she’s ruining
everything, school, friendships and her future.
She shuts down, withdrawing from her friends and
skipping school, convinced that they’re better
off without her. Over the next few days, Zoe
withdrew from her friends. She couldn’t shake
the feeling that she was a burden, that everyone
would be better off without her messing things
up. She stopped sitting with Ava and the others
at lunch, opting instead to find a quiet corner
in the library where she could be alone. But the
isolation only made things worse. Without her
friends to ground her, Zoe’s thoughts spiralled
even more out of control.
She couldn’t focus in class, couldn’t
motivate herself to do homework and every time
she saw Ava in the hallway, guilt gnawed at her
insides. One afternoon, as she sat in the
library, staring blankly at a book she wasn’t
reading, Zoe’s phone buzzed with a text. It was
from Ava. *Hey. We need to talk.* Zoe’s stomach
churned. She knew what was coming, Ava was going
to tell her that their friendship wasn’t working
anymore, that Zoe was too much to handle. She
felt tears prick her eyes as she typed back a
shaky response. *Okay.* They met outside after
school, under the big oak tree near the car park.
Ava looked serious; her arms crossed over
her chest. Zoe felt small and scared, like she
was about to be scolded by a teacher.
“Zoe,” Ava began, her voice softer
than Zoe had expected. “I’ve been thinking a lot
about what happened with the project and I’m
really sorry.” Zoe blinked, confused. “Sorry?
For what?” “For how I treated you,” Ava said,
her eyes earnest. “I was frustrated, and I
shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I know
you’re dealing with a lot and I wasn’t being a
good friend.” Zoe shook her head, tears welling
up. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m the one who
messed everything up. You guys did all the work,
and I just couldn’t keep up.” Ava reached out
and took Zoe’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Zoe,
you didn’t mess up. You’re dealing with ADHD,
and that’s not something you can just ‘fix’ by
trying harder. I didn’t understand that before,
but I’m trying to now.”
Zoe wiping her eyes said, “I just
don’t want to be like this. I hate it.” Ava’s
expression softened, and she pulled Zoe into a
hug. “You don’t have to hate yourself for being
different. You’re smart, and creative and funny.
ADHD doesn’t change that it just means you think
differently than most people. And that’s not a
bad thing.” Zoe leaned into the hug, her tears
falling freely now. “I just want to be normal,”
she whispered. Ava pulled back slightly, looking
Zoe in the eyes. “You are normal, Zoe, its just
different from mine. But that doesn’t make it
any less valuable.” Zoe’s conversation with Ava
was a turning point. It didn’t magically make
everything better, she still struggled with
school, still had days where her mind felt like
a tangled mess, but it gave her hope.
For the first time in a long
while, Zoe felt like she wasn’t alone in her
battle. With Ava’s encouragement, Zoe decided to
talk to her teachers about how she could better
manage her workload. It was scary, she hated
asking for help, hated feeling like she was
admitting defeat, but she knew it was the right
thing to do. Her teachers were surprisingly
understanding. Mrs. Grant, her math teacher,
agreed to give her assignments in smaller
chunks, with check-ins throughout the week to
help her stay on track. Her history teacher,
Mr. Riley, allowed her to do oral reports
instead of written ones, which helped her
express her thoughts more clearly. Zoe also
started using a planner to keep track of her
assignments.
While it didn’t always work perfectly, it was a step in the right direction. At home, her parents were thrilled to see her taking initiative. They worked with her to create a structured routine, with set times for homework, breaks, and relaxation. It was hard at first, Zoe’s natural instinct was to resist structure, to rebel against the idea of sticking to a schedule, but over time, she began to see the benefits. Having a plan made things feel less overwhelming, and knowing when she could take a break helped her push through the harder moments. After several days of absence, Zoe’s counsellor reaches out, encouraging her to come in for a session. Reluctantly, Zoe agrees. In therapy, she breaks down, admitting how much she hates herself for being different.
Her counsellor helps her reframe
her perspective, emphasising that while ADHD
presents challenges, it also comes with unique
strengths, creativity, resilience and the
ability to think outside the box. She suggests
Zoe talk to her teachers and friends about her
struggles and to ask for their support rather
than assuming they don’t care. Zoe takes the
counsellor’s advice and has a difficult
conversation with Ava. She apologises for how
things turned out with the project but also
explains more about how ADHD affects her and why
she struggles in certain situations. Ava listens
and apologises for her own harsh words,
realising that she hadn’t fully understood what
Zoe was going through.
Strengthening their friendship in the process. One of the biggest changes came when Zoe rediscovered her love of art. She had always enjoyed drawing and painting, but she had pushed it aside as school became more demanding. Now, though, she found that art was a way to express the thoughts and emotions she struggled to put into words. Her art teacher, Ms. Palmer, noticed her talent and encouraged her to submit a piece for the upcoming school art show. At first, Zoe was hesitant, she didn’t think her work was good enough, and the idea of displaying it for everyone to see was terrifying. But Ava and her parents urged her to go for it, reminding her that art was about self-expression, not perfection.
Zoe spent weeks working on her piece,
pouring her heart and soul into it. She decided
to create a mixed-media collage, combining
drawings, paint and bits of fabric and paper to
represent the chaos and beauty of her mind. The
process was therapeutic, allowing her to embrace
the different facets of herself, including her
ADHD. When the art show finally arrived, Zoe was
nervous but proud. Her piece, titled “Out of
Sync,” was displayed in the centre of the
gallery, drawing attention from students and
teachers alike. As she stood beside it, watching
people examine her work, she felt a surge of
confidence. For the first time, she was sharing
a part of herself with the world and it felt
good. Ms. Palmer approached her, smiling warmly.
“Zoe, this is incredible. You’ve really
captured something special here.” Zoe blushed,
looking down at her shoes. “Thank you. I wasn’t
sure if it was good enough.” Ms. Palmer shook
her head. “Art isn’t about being ‘good enough.’
It’s about expressing yourself and you’ve done
that beautifully. You should be proud.” Zoe
looked up, meeting her teacher’s eyes. “I am,”
she said quietly, surprised to find that it was
true. As the school year progressed, Zoe began
to embrace her differences rather than seeing
them as flaws. She still had tough days, days
when her mind wouldn’t cooperate, when she felt
like she was drowning in her thoughts, but she
also had good days. Days when she felt in
control, when she was able to focus and
accomplish what she needed to.
Her friendships grew stronger, too. Ava
and the others learned to be patient with her
and Zoe, in turn, learned to communicate her
needs more clearly. She realised that she didn’t
have to do everything alone, her friends were
there to support her, just as she was there to
support them. One day, as they were walking home
from school, Ava turned to Zoe with a smile.
“You know, you’ve changed a lot this year.” Zoe
frowned slightly. “Changed how?” “In a good
way,” Ava said quickly. “You’re more confident
now. You don’t hide as much. It’s like you’ve
found your place.” Zoe thought about that for a
moment. “I guess I have,” she said slowly. “I’m
still figuring things out, but… I’m starting to
like who I am.” Ava grinned, looping her arm
through Zoe’s.
“I’ve always liked who you are, Zoe. But
I’m glad you’re starting to see it, too.” Zoe
smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her
chest. For the first time, she truly believed
that being different wasn’t a weakness, it was a
strength. And she was ready to embrace it. With
a renewed sense of self-acceptance, Zoe
approaches her teachers to discuss ways that might help her succeed in
school. They work together to create a plan that
includes more time on assignments, the use of
fidgets to help her focus and regular
check-ins. Zoe starts to see improvements, in
her confidence and sense of belonging. By the
end of the school year, Zoe has come a long way.
She’s not "cured", she still has days where her
ADHD makes life difficult.
She no
longer sees it as a flaw. She’s proud of how far
she’s come and knows that her journey is just
beginning. She’s learned to advocate for
herself, to ask for help when she needs it and
to embrace the things that make her different.
In doing so, she finds that she’s not out of
sync with the world after all, she’s just
dancing to her own beat. By the time school came
to an end, Zoe felt like a different person. She
had faced her challenges head-on, learned to
manage her ADHD in ways that worked for her and
found a sense of self-acceptance that had once
seemed impossible. On the last day of school, as
she cleaned out her locker and said goodbye to
her teachers, Zoe felt a mix of emotions.
She was sad to leave behind the
familiarity of school, but she was also excited
for what lay ahead. College would bring new
challenges, but she was ready to face them with
the strength and resilience she had gained. As
she walked out of the school building for the
last time, Ava by her side, Zoe took a deep
breath and smiled. The world still moved at a
different speed than she did, but she was no
longer trying to keep up. Instead, she was
learning to move at her own pace, to dance to
the rhythm of her own beat. And in that moment,
Zoe knew that she wasn’t out of sync with the
world, she was just in sync with herself.