Seven years ago, I wrote an essay about what life would feel like if I didn’t struggle with saving money. In it, I envisioned the power of having enough in emergency funds to tide me over in case I needed to leave an abusive job or relationship.But writing that essay and having it go viral failed to change the struggle I had with my own bank account. In building my financial house, I continued my fractured existence as its construction worker, arsonist and firefighter.Around the same time, I began to suspect I had attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, or A.D.H.D., after I saw more and more people posting about it on Instagram. But because I thought having A.D.H.D. simply meant I was distractible, and because a 90-minute evaluation cost $260, I waited to get a diagnosis.In 2021, at 39, my frustration p …
