The author in her happy place in Maine, by the ocean, in summer 2023, the day before her wedding.Reading the report cards from my elementary and middle school years in Oslo, Norway, where I grew up in the 1970s, was proof beyond doubt that I was a girl who had trouble following the rules. “Nina interrupts.” “Nina walks around in the classroom without permission.” “Nina was sent to the principal’s office.” “Nina disturbs other students.” And so it goes: the early track record of a kid with ADHD.  Except back then, nobody used the label of the now-ubiquitous diagnosis, let alone offered us coping mechanisms, therapy or medication. Children like me just had to learn how to swim through our formative years full of chidings, consequences and punishments, without sinking too deep into self-loathing. When I look at a black-and-white photo of myself at 6 years old, I am filled with empathy and compassion for that