Be You. Just Better.
A Personal Story.
(Of Hope.)
Thank you for checking out this site. Allow me to share with you why it came into being.
My name is Andrew Jeffrey. For decades I’ve battled with clinical depression and anxiety. Most of the time I manage to keep it in check, thanks to carefully prescribed medication and a range of other strategies I have discovered, most of which you will find shared elsewhere on this website.
In August of 2020, I received official confirmation of something my GP had suspected for the past two years: I also have severe ADHD, and have almost certainly had it from birth.
This was a huge moment. Suddenly all the things from my past that haunted me – relationship failures, academic failures, addictive or destructive behaviour, and much more, now had to be considered through a brand new lens. Interestingly, not a single one of my friends was remotely surprised when I told them the diagnosis…
For over a year I met regularly with a doctor who specialises in ADHD. Slowly, I began to develop my understanding of the condition. But like me, that’s a work in progress.
It’s a strange thing to admit, but I honestly cannot remember ever feeling totally at rest. I can certainly remember feeling at peace on occasion, frequently after a spiritual experience of some sort, such as a time of prayer or meditation or a church service.
Although I have derived enormous strength from my faith, it has not meant I have had a free ride. None of us are immune from life’s problems. But it is in times of struggle that we grow the most.
As a child, my parents were not always quick to show affection, at least not to each other. I didn’t doubt that they loved me, but they just didn’t ever seem happy or relaxed with each other.
At the age of seven, to avoid changing schools every time the Armed Forces dictated that our family moved home, I went to boarding school, and while I enjoyed the opportunities it afforded, organisationally it was a disaster for me.
From the start, I was pretty hopeless.
For starters, I would lose everything. PE kit, pencils, clothing, school books, all of it. One of my biggest early symptoms was a lack of short-term memory, meaning that if I put something down – it was simply gone from my mind.
My brain simply could not focus on and recall the memory of where I’d left it. The phrase “Where did you last see it?” felt traumatic and accusatory, as I realised I simply had no answer.
In those days, nobody in the UK was talking about ADHD, so my problems were passed of as ‘naughtiness’, or ‘ill-discipline’, or just ‘laziness’.
Almost inevitably (at least with the benefit of hindsight) I headed into a downward spiral, which lasted throughout my entire education, impacting on my O-levels, A-levels and even my degree.
In class, however hard I tried to concentrate, I forgot nearly everything. In an era of rote-learning, I was destined to be terrible. Subjects such as History and Geography that relied on the acquisition of a lot of factual information were the absolute worst.
Unexpectedly, Maths was my way out. Suddenly, I found a subject that didn’t seem to require the acquisition and recall of huge swathes of knowledge.
For some reason, I was able to visualise numbers without much difficulty. I do not know how or why, but finally here was a subject that I seemed to be able to do well in and hence stay out of trouble. I didn’t have to remember what 300+200 was; I could just see it by thinking about 3+2.
Unsurprisingly then, maths became a firm favourite. I came to view it as a brief respite from the constant failed tests, under-performing, punishments for missed deadlines, and permanent looks of disappointment from my teachers.
At the age of 14 my parents divorced and I moved to another boarding school. I was excited about a clean slate, but it didn’t last long.
Even winning a scholarship to senior school did little to alleviate my feelings of inadequacy; I convinced myself that I wouldn’t have got one if I hadn’t been a year older than everyone else.
A series of poor behavioural choices and ever-worsening organisational skills and work ethic soon landed me in just as much trouble as I’d been in before, and worse.
Inevitably I didn’t last the course, and spent my final year of A-levels at the local VIth form college, studying the same subjects but different syllabuses.
My lack of ability to retain information or even concentrate meant that my A-level grades were well below what I’d hoped: I ended up with B,B, and C.
I failed to gain a place at Cambridge to read law. Of course, I was an entirely unconvincing candidate, but that didn’t stop me developing a chip on my shoulder, as my self-esteem continued to decline.
I did a gap year as a student teacher and was surprised how much I enjoyed it. Somehow I managed to get a place at a very good Teacher Training College in Canterbury, but with my problems still undiagnosed, my lack of organisational skills, growing sense of despair, and continuing tendency towards poor life choices, I didn’t even last a term.
By the time I was 20, I found myself living in a single room in a rented house, with no qualifications, and doing temp agency work to pay the bills.
Looking back, my teenage years were pretty disastrous. Things between my parents were still frosty, and I didn’t know where I belonged. The only constant in my life was friendship – I had friends, good ones, but for a long time my brother was the only person with whom I dared be my real self, but I hardly saw him as we’d gone to different schools, inevitably leading pretty different lives with different groups of friends.
It seems a terrible thing to admit, but I had been so self-absorbed while trying to figure out why I was so miserable all the time, that I hadn’t really stopped to think about what other people were like at all!
Through my relationships with other people, I began to be a little less despondent about things; I realised that maybe I had a capacity for decency too.
Deep down, I wondered why people would even like me. I knew I was loud, inappropriate and irresponsible, yet I found a group of friends with whom I could at least partially be myself.
I noticed that one of them in particular, Alison, seemed to be able to bear to spend time with me and before long I could see that deeper feelings were developing. We couldn’t have been more different, but it was easy to relax around her.
So, ever the impulsive one, I asked her out.
OK, that’s not quite true.
I actually asked her to marry me. We had never even dated, yet she said yes! So far we’ve been together over 30 years.
It’s not been easy for her being married to someone like me, but for some reason she’s stuck around. It probably doesn’t help that I call her my first wife, but hey…
The friends I did have though were a God-send (literally, I believe). Like many insecure people, I hid my self-loathing and insecurity behind witty banter. Making people laugh felt like a way to matter, or to be accepted.
I began to believe that other people seemed to have much easier lives. They always seemed to remember things, know where their stuff was, not worry about being on time, and just be generally happier. Inevitably I assumed I was just too full of self-pity!
In fact, some days EVERYTHING seems impossible. But I am not going to wallow in self-pity and cry about how unfair life is. Well, not too much.
I’m simply a work in progress. As are you.
I cannot slow down my brain, even when I need to, so it is hard to be ‘in the moment’. People often take offence as they think I am not listening well.
Medication helps to an extent though I have to work SO HARD not to interrupt in conversations.
And having a ton of creative ideas in my brain at once means I forget some, and do not get round to finishing others. I am exhausted by 9pm.
Slowly through sheer stubbornness, I’m learning how to navigate life. I’m often unhappy and anxious, but I have become good at hiding it, probably to avoid making people feel uncomfortable.
I’m VERY far from great, either as a dad, friend or husband (just ask my family and friends) and I probably never will be – there’s just too much happening in my head. Even with medication which helps, neither my brain or my body is ever capable of being at rest completely.
BUT…I have been discovering just how much blessing comes with ADHD. My brain can work incredibly fast, my creativity can feel limitless, my energy levels are terrifically high in the daytime, my tolerance and love of people who struggle mentally is deeper than it might otherwise have been, my ability to work tirelessly on a project that inspires me can be limitless at times.
We’ve worked hard to create a home and a family, and that’s been an important shared goal.
I’ve built a business that has taken me all over the world, enjoyed a teaching career, become an author, a trainer, a video creator, a web-designer, a coach, written and directed musicals, run eight charity marathons, cycled across Europe, run up mountains, and learnt to do things I just never believed were possible for me.
So if you’ve read this far, I’m surprised and impressed, but please don’t misunderstand – this is DEFINITELY not a ‘look what a hard life I’ve had‘ story.
I have spent my adult life trying to learn about and accept myself. I refuse to believe that either depression or ADHD need to define me. But they can inform and shape me, and I can have the enormous privilege of passing on what I’ve found out to others who are struggling, particularly other men who find it hard to talk about their feelings.
Great strides have taken place in the fields of mental health and personal development, and this brings us to the crux of the story:
What I have learnt about becoming a ‘better me’ has led me to this point. Everyone wants to improve some aspect of their life, whether they admit it or not.
The things I have discovered, many of which are so obvious once you know, have changed my life for the better.
And they can change yours too. The secret is simply to try to be better than yesterday.
This website is not about learning to survive. That’s not my wish for you at all.
Better than Yesterday is not just about ‘survive‘; it’s all about helping you THRIVE.
So check out our resources – and grow into the person you have the potential to be.
Be you – just a bit Better Than Yesterday.
Stay Safe. Keep Kind.
To read more of my story, and find out how you can stop being defined by ADHD or depression, check out my forthcoming book, “Pushing My Ferrari‘.
It is a book written in layman’s terms, and talks about my personal experiences with mental health, how they have shaped my life, how I have learnt to achieve despite them, and how you can do so too.
Was due in the Spring of 2023 but typically there has been a delay – watch this space!
