I was 9 when a doctor told me I was a perfectionist. My mom and I were confused. We were looking for answers to physical symptoms like stomach aches, trouble sleeping, and constant tension — not a personality diagnosis. But years later, I understood exactly what she meant. I had grown up as the youngest of four kids — always trying to catch up, to prove I was just as smart, just as capable. As a girl, the pressure to be “perfect” came with extra layers: be smart, but not too smart. Be pretty, but not vain. Be accomplished, but effortless. And having ADHD only made that pressure heavier.It took me twice as long to get anything done.I’d forget things, lose things, zone out, fall behind.I always felt like I was running just to stay in place — and still behind everyone else. Why is it so easy for others? Why is it so hard for me? I lived in that comparison trap for years.