When OCD and ADHD mix, no work will be done. I have self-diagnosed both of these quirks within myself. My friends often ask me, “How would you know that you have OCD and ADHD? You have to go to a doctor and it has to be scientifically proven.” In my simple response that always follows these insensitive inquiries, I reply, “When you are reading a book at home for an in class essay that is due the next day and your mind drifts to the piece of paper that you now recall had fallen under your bed; When you cannot continue reading that book until you go under your bed, find the piece of paper, and throw it out, that's when you know you have OCD and ADHD.”

These unfortunate qualities enjoy visiting me at the most unfavorable times. Well, to be honest, there is no time in which having an OCD-ADHD attack is good, but some times are worse than others. One of the worst things about the combination of these two hindering factors is that when I am working, I require complete silence or else my brain will essentially frizzle into a little stressed out ball of goop. However, for the most part, I have been able to adjust my life to attend to these problems as I now work in a room that is completely closed off from the rest of my apartment – very similar to the “closed door” technique that Stephen King uses when he is writing novels; Perhaps Stephen King has self-diagnosed OCD and ADHD as well!
        

The indestructible duo, my good friends OCD and ADHD, hit me at what could possibly have been the most untimely moment: during my A.C.T. The acronym, A.C.T stands for American College Testing and the A.C.T is a test that high school students, generally juniors, take and are often required to include their results from the test in their college applications. OCD is an acronym for Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, which is an anxiety disorder that can produce uneasiness, and apprehension. Last but definitely not least, ADHD stands for Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder, which is thought to be caused by developmental differences in the brain that affects the parts controlling attention, concentration, impulsivity, activity levels, and memory. As much of a challenge saying A.C.T, OCD, and ADHD a thousand times over as fast as you can might seem to be, getting over a moment on the A.C.T, with OCD and ADHD is even harder. As I waited in a gym to be assigned a room, I preparing myself for the next three and a half hours that I would have to spend completely stagnant in every part of my body except for my mind, where I would be performing a three and a half hour sprint. I was extremely stressed and nervous prior to my A.C.T, so it seemed only appropriate that my good friends OCD and ADHD paid me a visit.
        

The room I was assigned to take my test in was much alike how I imagined hell to be. The thick, gray, concrete walls entrapped me immediately to the extent that I began to feel claustrophobic and, believe it or not, claustrophobia is not even included in my repertoire of quirks. I stood in the front of the room waiting to be assigned a seat until I was directed to sit in the very first desk, closest to board. As different adults came in and out of the room, making sure that every student was where they needed to be, I placed my head down on the desk for one last moment of tranquility. Eventually, a nice-looking woman arrived and when she instructed us to start the test, sheer adrenaline immediately raced through my body, causing me to become fully absorbed by the test. So far, everything was going great. But then it happened. I looked up briefly in between turning pages of the test and there he was, -- not the guy one row next to me that was snoring louder than an Islamic call for prayer – the worst proctor that anyone with self-diagnosed OCD and ADHD could imagine. As I looked around to see every other test taker in the room unaffected, all I could do immediately after I noticed the new proctor was focus on the excruciatingly loud clamor that was coming from the keyboard that his fat, stubby fingers were pounding on like drums. After about 15 minutes of complete panic had gone by, I finally found a strong enough combination of courage and anger within myself and asked him to stop.

         I waved him over.

“No talking during the test,” he said.
“Please, sir, I cannot focus when you are typing on the keyboard,” I said.
“Oh, okay. No problem. I’m done with that,” he said.

A wave of relief struck me after my quick conversation with him. Why hadn’t I asked him before? – was my last thought before I entered back into the A.C.T mindset and began attacking my paper with focus. Boom! 4 times 8 that’s 32. 32 divided by 2 is 16. 16 squared is 256! Next. 72 divided by 3 is 24. 24 to the ½ is 12! As I raced through the questions as fast as I could in an attempt to gain back the time that I had just wasted, I began to grow back some confidence.
        

We finished the first forty-five minute section and panic began to absorb me again when I realized that my attempt at speeding up was not fast enough. As a result of my 15 minute OCD-ADHD attack, I was significantly behind on the section and I was unable to get to about 1/4th of the questions.
        

It’s okay, I thought. Do not let this one section get into your head. You have the whole rest of the test to do well on and redeem yourself from the first section. “Okay please flip to the next section, you have 60 minutes for this section, you may begin,” the proctor said in his unfriendly, robotic voice. I was on the second question when... that's right... hello panic attack! The proctor kept his word; no longer did he use the keyboard. Now it seemed that he decided he would move on to his next tactic of distraction as he began clicking his computer mouse incessantly. I placed my eyes on my paper. C’mon. Don’t pay attention to him. It is just clicking on a computer mouse. Forget about it. Oh no! I just wasted 10 more seconds thinking about it! Okay focus! Don’t pay attention to him! The combination of my OCD and ADHD at this moment sent my head into a seemingly inescapable cycle that ran over and over again. However, this time I knew better. This time it only took me a 5-minute loss in my section before I got his attention and blurted out across the room, “I can’t focus when you are making that noise!” He returned my statement with a rude face and a violent “OKAY!”
        

This, however, is when I believe I got on his nerves and he decided that payback would be the only option. No longer did he type. No longer did he click. Now, it seemed as though decided that he would distract me with his physical presence. After I made my statement the proctor immediately got out of his chair and began walking around the room at an extremely slow place, checking the students’ pages, like any proctor should do, to make sure that no one was cheating. But, the extent of which he checked the students’ pages was nothing less than excessive and intentionally distracting. Of course, my desk was the one that seemed to be targeted for his inspection the most. As he passed my desk, he slowly dragged his feet across the floor. I could feel his face coming closer and closer to my face as the claustrophobia that I initially felt upon my entrance to the room returned. Yet, when I looked up, he was quick enough to move his eyes away and pretend as though he had not been focusing on me.
        

After about two more hours of fighting constant distraction from the proctor, the test was over. I packed my calculator, picked up my pencils, put on my sweatshirt, and left the room. Since then, I have never seen the proctor and I am confident that I will never see him again. My revelation at the fact that the probability of me seeing the proctor ever again is slim teaches me something when I reflect back on that horrible day: when my good friends OCD and ADHD come to visit during a potentially life altering test or situation, it is not the end of the world. I have learned to control them by reading questions out loud when I am on the verge of getting distracted. Even though test situations require that I am silent, a little squeaky mumble that I am able to release without attracting the attention of the test takers around me is often enough to keep me focused. However, when this fails, I am now very experienced in the field of telling other people to be quiet. Regardless of how rude my tone of urgency might come across to someone that I am telling to be quiet, I know that I rather have someone I don’t know mad at me than have a surprise visit from the two pals, OCD and ADHD.