Until I read some anecdotes about history and treatment today, I don't think it had quite sunk in how many anxiety symptoms I showed as a child. I just thought of myself as quick, a little eccentric, a little nervous. My mother got billed every year for the textbooks I ruined by ripping off pieces of paper to chew. No, not the corners, the whole bottom margin, then the side, and by the end of the year, the top. And I knew she couldn't afford it and hated myself for it. I chewed all pencils and pens, regularly getting mouth slivers, or ink squirts in my mouth. I got kept in for tapping. And rocking. Unraveled my sweaters. Bit my nails. Factored numbers in my head endlessly. Ate my erasers and rulers (you had to be careful around the metal edges though).
It is true I was arrogant and lazy at school, and those may have been the primary factors in my just getting by at all levels of school, despite my IQ. But I am increasingly amazed that I got through at all. My strongest memory of school every year was of enduring sitting still, getting through to the bell.
Had I known there was a "reason," a "condition" that made me that way, I don't know whether it would have helped. I suspect I would have used it as an excuse.