Anyone could tell that Vi was neurodivergent.

That is, when she was unmedicated. Because of her ADHD, she was constantly stimming and fidgeting. Tapping her fingers, bouncing her leg, chewing on anything that hung around her neck, biting her nails.

She had trouble paying attention to almost anything and had a horrible short term memory. She craved stimulation and dopamine, always trying to keep her body moving or do something to get her blood pumping and her heart beating.

Vi’s auditory processing also went to hell on her bad days. Repeating herself constantly, unable to hear others properly or commit their words to memory. It got annoying quickly, even if it wasn’t her fault.

For all these reasons, she was medicated almost all of the time. A big struggle was getting her to take her meds, though. She hated how they took away her appetite, the taste they left in her mouth, not to mention she never remembered to take them and couldn’t keep up with the daily schedule. It also made her PDA horrible and it felt like an excruciating chore just to do what was asked of herself.

That morning was one of those extra bad days for all of her ADHD struggles, and she stood in the kitchen, trying to sort through the main on the counter. Her leg bounced and she was humming something faint, and she kept forgetting if they’d sent out the water bill, mumbling about stupid insurance and how early she’d woken up by accident and everything in between. She clearly needed help today, and she clearly needed to take her medication.

“Wait…are the bills on autopay or something?” She holds up an envelope, eyebrows scrunched. Good god, she’d been living there for eight months and she still couldn’t remember?