Disclaimer: This article contains sensitive content related to childhood abuse and trauma. It is not intended to normalize, justify, or condone abuse in any form. Its purpose is to foster understanding and healing through the lens of personal experience and neuroscientific insight. Resources for support are available at the end of this article.
The phone call shattered a decade of silence. “Are you Harold Oliver Haughton?” a voice asked. It was my father, Richard Oliver Tate Haughton. Two beautiful names, his and mine, echoing across a chasm of unspoken words. My father and I, estranged for over 10 years, were suddenly reconnected by that call. He was in Gwinnett Hospital, fading, a high fever having stolen his memory and clarity, leaving behind a fog of dementia.
My father went to his grave convinced he was lazy. He died believing a lie that had shaped his entire existence, and, for too long, mine. It was a belief that left a trail of chaos, conflict, and heartbreak in its wake. But it was only in his final, disoriented days, and in the raw, aching aftermath of his death, that I began to uncover the truth – a truth about ADHD, dopamine, and the brutal cost of misunderstanding our own brains.
The Unexplained Chaos: A Life Defined by “Problem”
Growing up, my father’s life was a tempest. As I recall, “He always seemed to be a problem at a job, and then sometimes we would have to move.” His career was a revolving door of positions, each new beginning quickly spiraling into conflict and a forced departure. He was heavily involved as an official within the Seventh-day Adventist Church system, but even there, his presence was a constant source of friction, “causing a lot of conflict.”
His past was punctuated by abrupt exits. He’d worked in Jamaica for the office of Michael Manley, a position he loved, but “he had to move to the United States” due to unexplained problems. He met my mom in England, and again, “caused a problem there and they had to move to Florida where they had me.” My father always seemed to be a problem, a storm in human form, but we never understood why.
Beyond his professional life, his personal life was equally turbulent. As you shared, “He was hypersexual. He had a lot of problems with infidelity.” Each new crisis, each new move, each shattered promise, reinforced the unspoken narrative: he was just lazy, just bad.
And the consequences of his internal chaos spilled over onto me. As you articulated, “He used me. I was part of his brain.” He used me to remember things, and when my 5-year-old self wasn’t paying attention, too busy playing, he would “yank me so hard,” thereby “pulling my shoulder out of the socket.” Doctors at Florida Hospital, a Seventh-day Adventist institution, would show me how to pop my shoulder back in, “as if it was my fault.” I endured a dislocated shoulder blade – a physical toll that mirrored the emotional one. My father, in his desperation to compensate for his own struggles, pulled on me until I broke.
The Turn: A Glimmer of Redemption in the Haze
For a decade, we hadn’t spoken. The chasm between us seemed too wide, too deep to bridge. But as his body failed, his mind, paradoxically, offered a brief, precious window into clarity. Stripped of the protective layers of memory and ego by the fever’s brutal hand, his final weeks brought an unexpected honesty.
He looked at me, Harold Oliver Haughton, the son he had physically and emotionally abused, the “weak person,” the “effeminate person,” the “small person,” the “gay person” he had so often portrayed me as. And for the first time in my life, he told me how smart he thought I was. Regardless of his many degrees, he believed I was much smarter than him because I had learned how to be honest about who I was, an honesty with a kindness that he for the first time in my life told me he respected. That meant so much to me. He let me know that I was a man that he could respect.
The “Aha!” Moment: Unmasking the Science of Chaos
I wish I had known. I wish I had known then, as a scared child yanking my own shoulder back into place, or as a frustrated adult watching his life unravel, that “he was experiencing all of those symptoms connected to ADHD and they’re due to a hormone dysregulation.”
This wasn’t a moral failing; it was a neurobiological difference. Understanding this was the first step to radical self-compassion, not just for my father, but for myself. The chaos, the impulsivity, the job instability, the constant search for stimulation, the infidelity – it wasn’t a choice; it was a brain struggling to regulate itself.
Experts like Andrew Huberman, a leading neuroscientist, have illuminated the critical role of dopamine dysregulation in ADHD. Dopamine, often called the “motivation molecule,” is essential for reward, focus, and impulse control. In individuals with ADHD, the brain’s dopamine pathways often function abnormally. This can lead to a constant craving for stimulation and novelty to achieve a sense of pleasure or reward that others experience more readily.
This underactive dopamine system drives:
- Impulsivity: Impaired dopamine signaling in the prefrontal cortex makes it difficult to inhibit behaviors, plan, and think before acting. This can manifest as difficulty delaying gratification, leading to unplanned and often risky choices in various aspects of life, including relationships and career.
- Novelty Seeking: A persistent drive for new experiences. The ADHD brain seeks novel stimuli for that temporary “boost” of dopamine, leading to frequent job changes once the initial excitement fades, or seeking out conflict and new environments. This explains the constant moves, the church conflicts, and the abrupt departures. For you, this manifested as pursuing a master’s in counseling, only to abandon it 80% through, then considering law school before opting for travel to exotic locations like Bali, Paris, and Singapore.
- Hypersexuality: For some, sexual activity can become a potent, albeit temporary, source of dopamine. The heightened drive for novelty and reward, coupled with impulsivity, can contribute to hypersexual behaviors as a way to self-medicate for emotional discomfort or to seek intense stimulation. You, too, experienced issues with hypersexuality and novelty seeking, understanding firsthand how these drives can manifest.
My father spent his life fighting a battle he couldn’t name. It’s a battle many of us face—this constant struggle with impulsivity, seeking novelty, and feeling like a “problem.” Could these signs of an undiagnosed ADHD work style be impacting your life? Take our quick assessment to find out.
Building a Legacy of Understanding: JobCoffin.com
My father didn’t get the chance to rewrite his story. He went to his grave believing he was lazy. But his story, and my journey, taught me a profound truth: You don’t have to wait for a tragedy to realize you deserve love and you deserve to flourish. You don’t have to live with the heavy weight of misunderstanding your own brilliant, complex brain. As you profoundly stated, “It shouldn’t take someone’s death for you to realize that.”
This realization, born from a crucible of grief and scientific discovery, became the bedrock of JobCoffin.com. It’s not just a business; it’s an answer. It’s an answer to the confusion, the self-blame, the cycles of unfulfilled potential that defined my father’s life, and nearly defined mine. We built JobCoffin for everyone who has ever felt like a “problem,” offering a path to understanding and empowerment rooted in neuroscientific truth and compassionate action.
The first step is simple: understanding how your brain actually works. Explore the latest neuroscience of ADHD and its impact on career success in our research section.
You deserve to flourish. You deserve sun, water, and growth that, as you powerfully articulated, “doesn’t have to grow from the hubris of an abuser’s death.”
Discover Your Truth. Rewrite Your Story.
My father’s story is a testament to the profound sadness when you don’t live your dream, and how that can prevent others from flourishing. “You project that internal crying out onto others, saying ‘who do you think you are?’ or ‘how dare they live their truth when you’re not living your truth?‘” JobCoffin.com isn’t just a part of my destiny; it’s a part of my truth. It’s about helping others get to the point I got to, before someone they love is lost, before a lifetime of misunderstanding becomes a legacy of regret.
The first step is simple: understanding how your brain actually works.
5. Compassionate & Ethical Storytelling: Resources for Support
This narrative contains sensitive content. If you or someone you know is experiencing abuse, mental health challenges, or needs support as a first-generation American, please know you are not alone. Help is available.
Support for Victims of Abuse:
- National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or visit thehotline.org
- Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453) or visit childhelp.org
- RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network): 1-800-656-HOPE (4673) or visit rainn.org
- Find a Therapist (Trauma-Informed): Psychology Today offers a directory to find therapists specializing in trauma. Visit psychologytoday.com/us/therapists/trauma-and-ptsd
Mental Health Resources:
- National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI): 1-800-950-NAMI (6264) or visit nami.org
- Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 from anywhere in the US, anytime, about any type of crisis.
- The Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386 (for LGBTQ youth) or visit thetrevorproject.org
- Find a Therapist: Use the Psychology Today directory to find a mental health professional near you. Visit psychologytoday.com/us/therapists
Resources for First-Generation Americans:
- Immigrants Rising: Offers resources for undocumented students and graduates. Visit immigrantsrising.org
- The First-Generation Foundation: Supports first-generation college students and professionals. Visit firstgenfoundation.org
- Culturally Competent Therapy: Seek therapists who understand the unique challenges faced by first-generation Americans. Directories like Therapy for Latinx or Asian Mental Health Collective can help.