I remember the moment I found out I had ADHD – in my early 40’s – so clearly. When my psychologist revealed the outcome of my assessment and confirmed, indeed, I had ADHD… my life flashed through my mind. The ideas, the stories I couldn’t tell without at least one side quest, the fast talking, the moments when silence had been so tough, the times I have been noted as an ‘out of the box thinker’ (what does that even mean?), the feedback I’ve received in annual reviews. And then my children.
I sought out a diagnosis not because I thought I had ADHD. The fact is, like so many other women, I had no idea. Sure, I had anxiety that came on postpartum after having our second child, but ADHD had never crossed my mind.
Earlier that year, my son was struggling in school with reading in Grade 1. Not at all surprising for this age. He’s a bright, very inquisitive, high energy little guy who is empathetic and can read a room so quickly. I wanted some help with how he learns so we decided to pursue an educational assessment with a psychologist, which revealed he had ADHD. That is a moment I will also never forget.
Suddenly I was alone – almost no one I knew (or so I thought) had ADHD, no one’s children had ADHD… and ADHD children were the more challenging group in the classroom, weren’t they? – the ones who couldn’t sit still, who had outbursts, who were usually spending time with the principal (at least in my early childhood they were). None of this fit my child. And then the psychologist said, you and your husband may want to consider getting tested as well because it can be hereditary. “Doesn’t fit me”, I thought. “Maybe on my husband’s side?”. In that moment, the psychologist said something I will never forget: “it presents completely differently in girls than it does in boys, and historically, girls have been severely underdiagnosed”. Enter the deep dive into ADHD in Women. And children… All of the research. What is an IPP? How do I do that with the school? What should be in it? What does a good one contain? What should it not contain? How do I advocate for him to get the best outcome for my son, for his classmates, for his future?
This was so new for me. I had no community, no one to talk to or ask questions to – no one that I knew of who had been here before.
It was one year before I started to be brave enough to talk about it to others outside of our family. When I first started talking about ADHD at work, sharing some of the things I had learned about myself, my children, working with the schools… I found out that there were so many others like me. Who had no community, no one to talk to, who were also scared of the stigma and what it might mean for them at work and elsewhere if they shared their experience.
I am a CFO by day, and am deeply involved in Diversity, Equity and Inclusion, Accessibility and Belonging. I know tone starts at the top. I know sharing personal experience makes a difference. It did for me in so many different ways throughout my career and I have such great respect for those who were open before me about their struggles and successes, whether it was in work/life balance, managing the boardroom or decision making. I knew I had to share more of my story. What ADHD has meant for me personally, how it presents for me (because everyone experiences it differently), and what it means in our family.
I see now that my ADHD has helped me be creative in how I tackle problems, how I read and respond to people. I am excellent at reading body language, which gives me an edge to step in when I know someone has been triggered in a conversation or negotiation. I know when we need to take a break and revisit an issue to give everyone time and space.
What helps me? As an executive, pre-reads are critical. I used to be the one saying ‘no one reads the pre-read’. But I do now. It helps me focus on the issue and task at hand. It is even better when there is a clear delineation between what is for information or background, and what decision is needed.
I now use notes when I speak publicly. I am not embarrassed by that at all. In fact, I call it out as helping me stay on track so we don’t go on too many side quests. I also have stopped rehearsing before most of my public speaking engagements. I have all of the ideas in my head. I jot down key points on my notes so I stay on track. I have found when I rehearse, I spend too much time in my head chastising myself when I miss a line that I had rehearsed while I’m presenting and that’s not a place I want to be. I’m more robotic and inauthentic, and that’s not who I am in reality. I’m a great speaker and even better when I’m able to read the audience and add/remove content depending on the room.
Deadlines are mission critical. Without a deadline, nothing is getting done on paper. I will have all of the ideas in my head, just like when I’m doing a speaking engagement, but nothing will move to paper without the deadline. One step deeper than that, it is likely nothing will move to paper until I am within 24 to 48 hours from the deadline. The pressure makes the ideas come out in a way that flows naturally.
As a parent, understanding what is happening with my children, trying new things because our brains get bored easily and switching up the tactics is helpful. Keeping in contact regularly with the teachers in terms of learning, behaviour, what’s working, what’s been challenging – this has been a game changer.
With my children, I find asking open ended questions when they get in the car after school like “What’s one thing you learned that was new today?”, “What was the best part of your day?”, “What’s something you’re proud of today?”, “What did you find tough today?” gives me great insight into their views. If they aren’t ready to talk because they need some time to unwind, these conversations can also happen closer to bed time.
I also have come to terms with, and accepted, that it is ok for me to be overstimulated and what I describe as ‘out-touched’. I love my children dearly and there are times when I need just a couple of inches on either side as my own space because I am overstimulated and/or need to maintain focus on a particular activity. It has taken a long time to get over the guilt of that, and I am a better partner and parent when I am open about needing a bit of space. Modelling this for my children has also helped them be able to advocate for themselves when they also find they are overstimulated and need space as well, which makes me incredibly proud of them.
All of this is also why I took an even deeper dive and became an ADHD Coach. The community I have been able to create at work, how I felt when I was diagnosed, and hearing stories and struggles of others tells me there is a deep need for connection in this space. Safe connection. Where parents, loved ones, caregivers, teachers and more can learn about ADHD – both the bright side and the challenges… How we can set ourselves up for success as parents, whether we have ADHD or not, and ensure our children are set up for success as well and not deficit thinking; the supports that are available (and the waitlists that unfortunately prevail), and tools we can use right now to help ourselves, our children, youth, students, and young adults be successful in the way they choose to that is important and provides meaning to them.
That deep dive I took into learning all about it on my own, I pour into my groups and learning modules. During the Office Hours/QA time, I see their eyes light up with connection and “Oh! That’s why…” Truly the best part of my day is working with these folks who care so deeply about those with ADHD in their lives, and themselves as well – because many of them also have ADHD too.
What can you do? Great question. As an employer, leader, colleague - if someone has shared a neurodivergent diagnosis with you, thank them for sharing and trusting you. Ask questions like “How can I best support you?”. Believe people’s experiences and stories. Believe those who ask for accommodation and to the best that you’re able, provide it. From a workplace perspective, don’t simply implement things you’ve read about on the internet without asking for perspective from those who would benefit – this is not a one size fits all solution.
As a parent, caregiver, teacher, partner, loved one, connection – keep the conversation going. Advocate for your children. Use the tools like IPP’s that are available to document the support your student needs to be successful. Have open conversations with the school about what they are experiencing and forge a relationship to work together for the benefit of the student. Teach advocacy skills and being attuned to one’s body. Don’t be afraid to take time for yourself to regroup – you will be a better person for it. Know that sometimes it is a dance of two steps forward one step back, but each of these steps are learning and that is a win. Keep on doing the things you are doing because you’re making a difference, even when it might feel like you’re not.
I would like to close this post with a heartfelt thank you to the parents, caregivers, loved ones, teachers, colleagues, friends, families and connections of those with ADHD. By engaging in the learning and conversations, you make it easier for us to be open and learn about ourselves as well. ADHD can be exhausting – not just for us who have ADHD but also for those around us. Your help and support means the world to those around you.
Bio:
Leanne Gawley (she/her) is an internationally experienced neurodivergent finance professional turned ADHD and Executive Coach. She has dedicated her career to helping individuals and teams with finding success in a way that is authentic to their journey. As a professional ADHD and Executive Coach, Leanne specializes in helping children and families with ADHD navigate to understanding and success, and Executives who are feeling stuck to rediscover purpose and meaning. She is a Chartered Professional Accountant (Alberta), holds an MBA (Manchester University), a Certified Executive Coach (Royal Roads University), Associate Certified Coach (International Coaching Federation), ADHD Coach (JST Coaching) and Imposter Syndrome Informed Coach (Imposter Syndrome Institute). She resides in Moh’kinsstis, traditional Treaty 7 territory, commonly referred to as Calgary, Alberta with her husband and children.
One of the quotes that sparked my continued pursuit of clowning was: "Instead of thinking that each problem you face is a tragedy, you can use the creative side of your brain-- which is likely to benefit from your ADHD traits--- to figure out a solution." (Fast Minds- Craig Surman and Tim Bilkey).
I gave up on my dream to be a therapeutic clown. I gave it up thirteen years ago when I dropped out of my theatre degree in Montreal, too depressed to continue. I married, moved to Ottawa and had two children. In 2023, was diagnosed with ADHD at 36 years old. I reignited my passion for theatre through improv, stand up and clowning healing from a painful separation and divorce. I have always found it difficult to express myself through writing, so the ease of communication through clowning helpful. I needed a new way to play and get out of my head. I believe clowning is all about resilence to chaos, externalizing that chaos in our lives and embracing it. Clowning is not therapy in itself but the effects of letting loose and laughing at yourself distracts my constantly changing mind and uplifts my usually defeated spirit. My brain connects things that are at random and creates ridiculous and unexpected results with absolutely no effort. My brain takes the reins and I let it loose like a bucking bronco.
I face misunderstandings from practically most of the systems and people I interact with. I am trying to inject clowning into everything I do to strengthen my ability to laugh at myself and the situations I have encountered. As soon as my invisible disability becomes visible--assumptions are made in customer services, public services and banking institutes because of the lack of education about ADHD.
Clowning takes moral courage even in the face of disapproval. Being the only one in a crowd to take an unpopular stance requires resilience. That unpopular stance might be that we are foolish as a species. That we are unwise, we always think we know more than we do.
What I have learned from clowning, is that it takes an individual who is courageous enough to be absolutely vulnerable in front of a crowd. To open up themselves and connect with the audience with their offer to connect. When I clown, I take the risk to celebrate vulnerability when it has a deep and lasting payoff for the audience. These opportunities to practice reaching for your inner child and other people's inner child is what has such an empowering effect on all people. I am new to clowning but so far it grounds me and helps me to figure out who I am. The more I learn about clowning, the more it touches another issue I might have struggled with as an undiagnosed adult with ADHD.
Failure and celebrating failure is helping me to face my fears right now. This is absolutely freeing for me to experience when I am struggling to see my successes everyday. The act of acting out failure as a goal-- gives you room to see it in a different light and make more sense to your life that sometimes doesn't or didn't make sense before your ADHD diagnosis. Your failures and ability to fail in a planned and practiced way becomes your gift. It is an invaluable gift to society-- to celebrate failure and laugh in the face of fear and rejection.
Parenting with ADHD can be quite overwhelming. For most of my life, I was misdiagnosed. I was told I had major depressive disorder that was resistant to treatment, anxiety, and Anorexia Nervosa. I was hospitalized when I was 20 years old for Anorexia and these were the diagnosis I was given. I had been on numerous medications and had ECT treatments done but still, I felt numb and empty, always overwhelmed, the smallest things would set me off, and I could not handle hearing multiple noises. It was as if all the noises enraged me, add in a child who also has ADHD and it was like a bomb in the house. My son was diagnosed at the age of 8 in 2023 before I was, I was diagnosed a month after he was! Getting his diagnosis was a time-consuming process, I kept being told that he is just a boy, they are hyperactive, that’s just who they are! It wasn’t until grade 3 that things started to get worse, he was having behaviors at school, was falling behind in school and struggling to keep up, and at home it was exhausting. My son has a low frustration tolerance and would have multiple meltdowns daily and I did not know how to deal with it effectively, his outbursts would set me off and then it was like a war between us. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted from not only myself but also from not knowing how to properly help him, if I was unable to regulate my emotions how was I supposed to help him? He ended up being seen at the local children’s mental health unit for a year, we were given strategies as was he, they did not always work but it was something we could work on.
As for myself, I was officially diagnosed in August of 2023 after seeing a psychiatrist. I did not go into his office expecting to hear what I did, I was hoping he would have the answers as to why no medications seemed to make me feel any better. Was I overwhelmed, Yes! I have always been a very busy person, someone who is great at multitasking and works insanely well under pressure. I like to say I do my best work under pressure. I worked full-time, completed my degree online, and was raising three kids. All those things combined would make anyone feel overwhelmed right? However, how I was presenting myself told a different story. I felt incapable of parenting my son, my son's dad was calmer with him and was better able to respond to him than I could. I felt like I was drowning and failing my son. I was hoping the psychiatrist would have been able to find the right medication, however, he was concerned and baffled at the number of medications I have tried and none seemed to do anything for me. I felt so numb, and irritable, found no enjoyment in life, and was losing motivation, I just felt hopeless. After everything was said and done, I was diagnosed with ADHD. After hearing this I was sad, and I remember just crying, thinking that If I had been diagnosed and treated properly earlier how my life may have been different? I was mourning that young girl who struggled for years, hating herself, compulsively exercising, and just being sad for many years. I also felt like a bad parent, it was not my son's fault that he was struggling, but I was not helping him either.
I felt like I had spent the last 15 years of my life being treated for something that was not the issue, yes, I have depression but now with the right medication and proper diagnosis, I feel like a different person. I won't lie and say it's all sunshine and rainbows, but it feels lighter. There is not so much darkness, I can relate more to my son and I feel like I can effectively deal with his meltdowns, and I know when I need a break. There have been some things that have helped my son and me, now I am not saying this will help everyone but it is what has worked for us. We are still learning as we go, and as I write this, my son will be having a psychoeducational assessment done, hopefully, once this is complete we will have a better understanding of how best to help him.
Things that I have found helpful:
As for myself, taking time away from the kids has been beneficial it allows me to recharge, if I can tell I am starting to feel overwhelmed I step away for a moment and compose myself. If my son and I are starting to butt heads, I will tell him that I need a moment for myself and I will come back and we can talk. It allows us both the chance to regroup, sometimes he needs more time and I allow him that and when he is ready to talk we do. In the last year, I have learned a lot about myself and even him, there are still days when I feel like I do not know how to parent him, but I am hopeful that once we have a full assessment done with him, we can devise a plan that will work and that will help him more. Getting to where we are now has been a long road, I have had to advocate a lot for him, I have reached out to numerous agencies for him, enrolled in parenting classes, and created a support network for him and myself. What I have learned from all of this is to advocate and make sure you have a support network.
I am Melanie (She Her), Or Mel as most people call me. I work as a middle manager in a corporate job and as a small business owner as a decluttering coach and professional organizer.
This is my ADHD and Clutter story.
I am an empty nester and have been married to my husband and terrific neurotypical partner, Mike, for 27 years. I live near Toronto in Ontario, Canada, and enjoy playing ice hockey, writing, reading, practicing yoga, and keeping fit. I am also a mom to 2 young adult daughters who both make me immensely proud every day. I was diagnosed with ADHD late in life, at age 53, and started taking medications and working with an ADHD coach just this January.
In the mid-70s, when I started grade school, no one talked about ADHD. I think a little later they did, but it was only hyperactive little boys who were acting out they used the term about. I was a super talkative little girl who liked to read a lot and was mainly doing ok at school.
I was always messy. I often put something on any surface and then no longer saw it. To me, it all became the landscape of the room. I was always in trouble for it at home as a kid. (My poor parents tried their best.) Living with a few different roommates, my now-husband later kept me in check. I developed some simple routines to stay on top of my stuff.
However, when I became a mom at 29 and then went back to work full-time, I became overwhelmed. Add kiddo number 2 a few years later, and the wheels really started to fall off. During that second mat leave, I fell into a depression. The house was a disaster. I often spent hours a day crying. Finally, I went to my doctor and got help; getting on some antidepressants and adding light daily exercise seemed to get me back on track.
But our messy home was getting worse and worse as time went on. I had a shopping problem I see now. So much stuff was coming into our house for what I know now was likely some dopamine-seeking behaviours. I bought Rubbermaid tubs, bins, baskets, and even furniture to store it all and was convinced I needed to organize it. Nothing ever was leaving the house. More kept coming in. After all, it was perfectly good, useful stuff, and we might need it someday. My memory problems were starting to get worse, and I often never remembered what we had or where it was, so we would buy what we could not find.
When we had company, it was a huge work effort to clean and tidy the home at the last minute. I would shove and stuff wherever I could, but I went to great lengths to keep this all secret.
My husband was often frustrated and tried to talk to me about shopping and letting go of stuff, but I was always very defensive and snappy back. I feel bad about that now. It could not have been fun for him. He would often go through the kids' toys with them and pack up stuff to get out of the house and regain control, as I never had the capacity.
When I returned to work after daughter number two was born, we had a housekeeper help come in every couple of weeks, which was a terrific help. However, I would tidy in a mad rush like a crazy person the night before so they could clean. When I was tired most nights after the kid's routines and dinner, I grabbed an empty bin or laundry basket and just threw the random stuff in there, thinking I would put it all away later. The baskets got shoved into our unfinished basement, where, due to my memory issues, I promptly forgot about them.
Fast forward several years, and my oldest was struggling and hated school. After talking to a caring teacher, we took her to get privately assessed, and it was found that she had ADHD. As they described the symptoms and experiences, I heard warning bells. Parts of this sounded like me. But I told myself I was doing ok. My career was taking off. I was volunteering in the community and thought I had it all together.
In the meantime, our home was getting worse and worse. Those doom boxes in the basement were filling up that space. And my shopping was creating more and more extra junk in our house. But it was overwhelming me more and more.
I finally started to make a change around 2019. I tried so many different methods and ways to declutter and found many of them so overwhelming. I finally found Dana K White on a podcast and started listening and trying her methods; somewhat half-assed, but it did help. Something about her and her self-deprecating humour, describing her issues and new simple steps, spoke to me. It was like she was in my head. I watched all her YouTube videos. And had a realization that every little bit of time helps. It did not need to be a whole-day marathon. We made massive momentum in our home during the pandemic by decluttering and getting honest about how much we could manage.
We set up routines with laundry and dishes and standard housekeeping tasks. I even do menu planning now before we shop for groceries.
We emptied out that basement of all its Doom boxes and surprises. It was painful because I had to admit I had done this, and all the money was wasted. I was able to confront that secret shame and no longer shop like I once did.
We can have people over with little notice, and I am not embarrassed. We can now see and keep up with regular home chores and maintenance projects. Someone can work on our furnace or water heater without spending days clearing a path for them. I can be on a Zoom call and not worry about the piles in the background.
My home still gets messy, but routines quickly restore it. I know where things are, and regular decluttering is now an ingrained habit and is really satisfying.
Now, I am making it my mission to help other ADHD people, with all the empathy in the world, no matter where they are starting from, to declutter and organize their homes and lives functionally and reduce their stress and overwhelm. It was amazing how much having a tidier, less cluttered home has helped me function better in so many areas that I was struggling with.
If I can do this, anyone can!
MY FRIENDS CALL ME Dee
A journey of self-discovery, atonement and acceptance after a middle-aged ADHD Diagnosis
On a cold December afternoon in 2022, I requested a call with my family doctor that would change the trajectory of my life, and would be the missing piece of the puzzle I had been searching for.
I was concerned, after watching endless YouTube videos and listening to Spotify podcasts, there was a chance that I could be neurodivergent, with all signs pointing towards Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder.
Years before my self-discovery journey, like many others, I had a very stereotypical picture in my mind of who was afflicted with this diagnosis: your typical rowdy, class-clown (always a boy), whose parents were on a first name basis with the school principal, and who had his teachers fantasizing about early retirement.
Into my thirties, I had come to find two of my much younger extended family members had been diagnosed with ADHD, one of which is female. My first initial thought was, “but, she’s a girl, is that possible?” It turns out it is, and her mom shared the same concerns about her daughter, that would be the crux of the tumultuous relationship I had living with my parents, which caused endless arguments, tears and epic fights, well into my twenties and early thirties, to which I think back upon with the heaviest of hearts.
Going down the rabbit hole a little deeper, I started to reflect upon earlier childhood quirks that have carried into adulthood, which are considered traits of ADHD
Clue 1: “It was all a dream…”
I definitely was not a class clown in elementary school; I was reserved and quiet. During that time, I always felt like a spectator, watching the other kids interact in a way that looked so natural, and without insecurity. Unfortunately, I was bullied as a child for having glasses (and later, braces). To feel better about my childhood, I like to think of myself as an OH (Original Hipster), with my thick coke-bottle 1980’s specs, and sailor outfits that every Italian mother dressed their children in on special occasions.
When picking me up from elementary school, my mother always remarked that I was “always the last one ready” and took a while to put on my coat and boots. This is one trait, that has followed me well into my early forties. Before an event, to help keep me on track, my outfit is decided upon at least 48 hours in advance, to avoid multiple outfit changes, and leaving a pile of clothes on the bed, which will not be hung back up for at least a week or two.
My husband (who’s never late) patiently provides me a two-hour advanced reminder to be ready by “X” time, with multiple reminders every half-hour. I am a huge daydreamer, and while I am supposed to be focusing on getting ready on time, I get lost in the playground of my mind, thinking about anything and everything, from replaying a disagreement with an old friend from 15 years ago, to picturing myself on stage, singing to thousands of adoring fans, screaming my name (Sidebar – I can’t sing). My inner world is so rich and colourful; reality is too boring for me. I retreat within myself.
Clue 2: “Another hit”
Down the Rabbit Hole, I started to learn about Dopamine, the chemical deficiency that causes those with ADHD to search high and low for that “hit”, the high that helps to make us feel whole.
As a child, I looked forward to Easter and Halloween chocolate binges.
I remember receiving a box of fancy Godiva chocolates one Easter. I’ve never seen so many different types of nuts and creams before! Within minutes, the top tray was devoured. Once the tummy ache subsided, I would hit up the box for round two!
There is a significant age gap between my brother and I, when I was too old to go Trick or Treating, I would steal his Halloween candy. I knew all the hiding spots. It didn’t matter how much he cried to my parents, or how many times I would be yelled at… I WANTED THAT CHOCOLATE, and nobody could stop me.
In my twenties, when I started working full-time and became self-conscious about my body and fashion, I went from chocoholic, to shopaholic. Whenever I was lonely, and felt misunderstood and stressed out (which felt like every day) I would shop to take the edge off.
I’m embarrassed to think about how many articles of clothing I bought that I only wore a few times, and heartbroken to think with all that money wasted, I could have had a down-payment on a home in my twenties, which would have been my ticket to independence.
After my thirtieth birthday, I made a commitment to lose as much weight as possible. Still a shopaholic, I got “hooked” on exercise and dieting. I became obsessed with the process, and the new “hit” was the compliments from women, who would tell me I looked “so good”. When you are bullied as a child by female classmates, those compliments were vindication from my lonely childhood.
To add insult to injury, with my new thin body, I would by designer clothes that I could not afford, to show the world how “fabulous” I looked.
I became very slender, and my parents were very concerned. My mother would keep pies in the fridge to help stimulate my appetite. I had a hard time controlling myself, however, this new obsession made me feel like I was finally in control of myself and my life.
To this day, I still struggle with body image, however, I feel like I am on the right track, and I am proud of the progress I have made.
Clue 3: “The Fire-Breathing Dragon”
Looking deeper within myself, and taking an honest inventory of my past relationship issues, I would say the most damaging and regrettable symptom of my ADHD is the struggle to keep my anger under control and difficulty with emotional regulation. Friends and loved ones can forgive a messy room, or being fashionably late, but the relational damage one can do when angry, can harm a relationship, and dissolve within seconds.
There are two sides of me. My “Light Side” is loving, jovial, and friendly. Always happy to offer help to dear friends. The side that cries when watching sad commercials, no matter who is in the room with me. This side loves kittens, puppies, and the colour pink. Picture Elle Woods (Legally Blonde), without the law degree. Unfortunately, kindness is often mistaken for weakness, and I have been hurt in the past when being too open to the wrong people.
My Shadow Self I affectionately refer to as the three-headed dragon; not many people have had the displeasure to make her acquaintance. She is mean, fierce and is full of blackout, unbridled rage when pushed past the point of no return. When triggered from repeated signs of disrespect, unkind words, feeling harshly judged, she builds up that anger, until it explodes. The pain of perceived rejection feels like a sharp finger-nail, digging deeply, and opening a core wound. It is unbearable. Picture Daenerys Targaryen (final season of Game of Thrones), destroying King’s Landing, without mercy.
Am I like this because of trauma from childhood bulling, combined with having Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD), which many with ADHD experience? Quite possibly. It is something I still struggle with and have taken steps to seek help with. I am learning to be kinder to myself, and I hope one day I can downgrade my three-headed dragon, to a feisty chihuahua – some bite, but not as ferocious.
My Light Side and Shadow Side make a great team when I am in a good headspace (I can slay dragons, with tact, while looking great in pink)
With these clues, as well as other symptoms that I shared with my family doctor, I was able to get an appointment with an ADHD clinic in Toronto. After multiple tests and evaluations, it was confirmed, yes, I do have ADHD.
There were so many feelings to process from the diagnosis. A part of me was relieved – finally – the challenges I have been struggling with have a name and a cause. A part of me also felt let down and full of regret. What if I had received the diagnosis years ago, would I have had a better life today?
Yesterday is done, and while there are actions in my past I regret, that can be attributed to having ADHD, I can honestly say I am proud of all I have accomplished, despite of it. With grit and determination, I was able to create a wonderful life for myself, I am resilient and have overcome challenges with hard work, and determination.
It has been a year since my diagnosis, and I am excited for what the future holds, and I am looking forward to exploring my new world with others on this journey with me.
Your friend,
Dee
A few weeks ago, my child stepped off the school bus quietly, and grabbed my hand to walk home with an uncharacteristically quiet demeanor. He is usually bouncing, with his backpack unzipped and bubbling about new facts he’s learned - or about how he doesn’t quite trust the new facts he’s learned. In my mind, he is a tiny excited professor, with his black-rimmed glasses and constant skepticism about my extremely thorough and age-appropriate answers to his constant stream of questions.
All became clear, however, when he handed me his yellow assessment folder, which housed a math test where the mark didn’t reflect his (above grade) knowledge. Curious, I reviewed the test with him and discovered that he completely missed the second part of a question, didn’t check back of the page thereby missing another question, and didn’t understand what a third question was asking - and didn’t ask for help. When I asked him about the test, it was clear he didn’t receive the support to which he was entitled, as per his Individualized Education Plan (IEP).
I could see the deleterious impact of this test on my otherwise happy, curious and engaged child and my chest tightened; what was a frustrated mama to do?! Breathe with me for a second, as I switch from mama mode to teacher mode.
In assessment, we want to ensure that what we end up measuring is actually what we intended to measure. Sometimes, because of implicit biases of its creators, the measurement instrument itself (e.g., the test) creates unintended “noise”, obfuscating the results. In standardized testing, for example, questions framed outside of one cultural set of norms result in poorer test scores; just a small change to reword it in a familiar cultural context, equalizes scores. This is just one example of one type of assessment bias, and because it holds to a single state of what is expected (an assumption that makes little sense in schools today), it unfairly discriminates against those unfamiliar with it.
In the same way, the classroom teacher wants to measure math proficiency with the test. But, if a child doesn’t understand or even see the questions, the resulting scores don’t measure proficiency with math. In the case of my child, the test measured, for example, his ability to hold a second instruction to a question in working memory, which we already know is impaired due to ADHD. Clearly differentiating the separate instructions through format, layout, numbers/letters or by highlighting is one small change that would help my child to demonstrate his proficiency at math, allowing the test to now measure what it set out to measure.
Given that the purpose of the assessment is to determine if my child knows and understands the math content and can demonstrate it accordingly, accommodations are in place to ensure any barriers that create “noise” in the results are removed. His accommodations include having the teacher go over/mark up the questions with him individually during the test to ensure he sees and understands all the questions. The same accommodations might apply to ESL students, for example. In addition, his accommodations include receiving a test that is laid out more clearly and formatted differently, where specific word cues are highlighted in some way, where there is a clear visual cue (such as an arrow) to indicate additional questions on the reverse side. The same accommodations might apply to a student with a visual impairment, for example. Additional small changes for assessing him include that he can be tested verbally, be assigned a scribe, take the test in a separate room and take additional time to complete.
Now, back to mama mode.
When my son came home that day, he dejectedly handed me his yellow assessment folder, head down and shoulders slumped; the sight of which broke my heart. But it wasn’t just this one test, anymore. The repeated experience of getting poor test results back, especially in subject areas in which he excels conceptually, had been chipping away at his confidence, self-esteem and self-efficacy. He was starting to dread school, and losing motivation to bother with schoolwork. The actual mark on this math test was never my concern, nor the impetus for acting. Rather, it was the excruciating realization, as both a teacher and parent, that schooling was destroying my child’s seemingly unquenchable thirst for learning.
I gave him a big hug and told him that there was a mistake with the test, and that it wasn’t set up in a way that allowed him to show his teacher what he actually knew. He seemed relieved that it wasn’t his own failing. I asked him if he’d prefer the teacher verbally test him on the questions he missed, and he lit up.
I sent an email to the teacher to ask if accommodations had been given for this test, and asked her to make one small change by re-assessing him verbally for this subject matter. Teachers, just like our children, are doing the best they can, and a gentle reminder, in the context of the partnership that has been consistently nurtured all year, is both kind and helpful, if your child isn’t getting the support they should be. Teachers have deep expertise in many areas, but you are the subject matter expert on your child’s needs. It is likely you hold key information that, once shared with the teacher, can make a world of difference to both teacher and student. You are your child’s advocate, cheerleader and protector - and your involvement in your child’s education is your right.
The next day I received a note from the teacher thanking me for the reminder about testing himverbally. That afternoon, he bounded off the bus, raced into my arms, yellow folder already in hand and head held high; my tiny professor had aced the test.
When I first got diagnosed with ADHD just over two years ago, my therapist told to me about something she and her colleagues dubbed “The Three-Year Reckoning.” They gave it this name after noticing it happen time and time again in their practice; things finally starting to fall into place for their clients after their ADHD was diagnosed and treatment followed. Slowly but surely, they start to become the version of themselves they have always wanted to be and let me just say, wow, am I in the thick of it now!
It all started for me at the age of 39, when I was diagnosed after my ex-husband and daughters were, as it often happens with women. In fact, most women don’t get diagnosed with ADHD until about the age of 38 and there I was, another statistic for the research papers. My official diagnoses are combined ADHD, social anxiety related to performance and a math learning disability called Dyscalculia. And while it was a relief to finally be diagnosed, that grief that so many ADHDers talk about was also very real and it shook me to my core.
In my advocacy I call it “The Sixth Sense Effect,” that moment you realize it was ADHD all along. Stupid, stupid ADHD screwing with me, my family and everything around me! I had countless sleepless nights rewinding and overanalyzing the movie reel of my life and ruminating about what could’ve and should’ve been had I been diagnosed earlier.
Could school have been easier for me, and would I be smarter and or successful today as a result? Could I have pursued a job I would have loved in journalism or entertainment if I didn’t struggle so much with RSD (Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria) and performance anxiety? Could I have saved my marriage if I got my control and anger issues in check sooner? Could I have been a better mom who didn’t rage so much and not have traumatized my kids the way I did? Let’s face it ladies, we could “shoulda, woulda, coulda” ourselves to death but it’s not something I recommend because we can’t change what was or what could have been. We are here now; things cannot be erased and all we can do is move forward with grace.
So, in true ADHD fashion, I moved forward in fast forward and hyper focused hard. The difference was that this time, the focus was on ME. What a notion, huh moms? Giving ourselves the time and attention we need to get better? And what I learned quickly is the more I looked in the mirror, dug deep and devoted myself to my own treatment with medication, therapies and an intense devotion to improving and maintaining my physical health, the faster it all got better for my daughters too.
If you’re reading this blog, I’m assuming you know a thing or two about neurodiversity and how it’s genetic and tends to cluster in families, friend groups and work groups. There was even a study done on it recently called “Birds of a Feather” that proved just how prevalent it is. And it makes sense, doesn’t it? People with different brains being drawn to one another for just that reason? Yet when I talk to the women in the support group I run and as I continue to advocate, I find more and more that it’s often the atypical control freak, ultra organized, chronically overwhelmed and emotionally unstable neurodivergent moms who are the ones that are diagnosed last. We just learned to mask it so well that we can even fool ourselves. This is why I can’t stress enough how important it is for ALL family members to be screened once one is diagnosed.
My first day on medication was wild. I had that typical first experience of it kicking in and my world being rocked. Not everyone has that experience but, in my case, it’s exactly how it went. Within one hour of the meds kicking in, I felt the tension leave my body and it was quiet. Like, really quiet. I felt calm, focused, less agitated, less anxious, clear minded and moved through my day with ease. I remember crying myself to sleep that night at the realization that after trying so many things for so long; therapy, antidepressants, getting healthy and blowing up my life, this was one of the things I clearly needed all along. Yet not one of the 4 therapists I went to saw it in me, even the one that noticed it in my ex after meeting him only twice. I was angry and sad, and it was in that moment I knew I would never shut up about it so let me hop up on my soap box real quick and allow me to remind you all of a few things:
We HAVE ADHD. It’s IT and not US that trips us up from time to time. It doesn’t define us; we didn’t ask for it and we don’t deserve it. These are our symptoms, not our personality and we’re not bad people, moms, dads, or friends. It is possible and up to us to take control of these symptoms, though, and this I know for sure. Not all the way and we’ll never be perfect but with ADHD being one of the most treatable disorders in the world, as full-blown adults it’s our responsibility to treat the symptoms as best we can with the resources we have. Our diagnosis is an explanation but not an excuse so if you learn anything from reading this blog, I hope it’s this: pursuing a diagnosis and treatment is worth it, things can and will get better, and you’ll never regret it.
I must say I’m still pretty bitter about it being missed in me my entire life. We tend to ask ourselves things like how the hell did the doctors and therapists not see it? Was it not obvious? Do they not know enough about it? How did I, the world’s biggest know-it-all, not know!? I guess the short answer is that it’s just not obvious for most girls and women who tend to be more internally hyperactive, inattentive and daydreamy but I can assure you I am NOT. From the day I shot out of the womb, I was loud, hyperactive, charismatic, funny, quirky and unique. I’m a first generation Canadian, raised in a very strict home in the 80’s so ADD, as it would’ve been called back then, wasn’t something anyone around me would’ve heard of. And being the bright, cunning, resourceful girl I was, I flew under the radar for a very long time.
And about that Three-Year Reckoning I wrote about earlier? Here’s a not-so-comprehensive list of all the things I’ve done since diagnosed just over two years ago:
I’m pretty blown away by this list myself and almost in tears as I’m getting it all down. I take all the time in the world to list my to-dos and should-dos but have never actually sat down to list my “have-dones” until now. Please don’t tell my therapist, she’ll kill me! She’s told me a million times to write them down and shove them in my face, all the things I’ve accomplished and am proud of. But I’m just not the journaling kind. Maybe this is my cue, though, to get at it and finally put some pen to paper and write a book or something. I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll get to it some day.
Lastly, I want to mention, for anyone who resents the use of the term “superpower” when it comes to ADHD, let’s agree to disagree. I’m no dumb dumb and well aware my untreated ADHD effed up my life more than it helped it and ADHD itself is not a superpower. But when we can get the symptoms in check, all the amazing things that usually come with ADHD can help us soar, no doubt. Those we can use as superpowers and promote them as such, especially to instill some confidence in our neurodivergent youth who need it so badly right now.
I know I wouldn’t be the person I am or be where I am today without my ADHD and I can say with 100% certainty that if given the option, I would never give it back. I am the coolest, most fun mom, the most loyal and ridiculously funny friend, an intensely loving and giving human being, devoted to making a difference and doing good in the world. I’m hella intuitive, creative and capable of balancing much more than the average human because I’m not your average human. Sure, I probably screw up and act out more often than others do. But now that I’ve learned to quickly repair and forgive myself and others, I’m learning to love me and my unique brain more and more each day. We’re a pretty cool pair, my brain and me. Stuck with one another for all of eternity. And I’m okay with that. Very okay with that.
I always grew up feeling like I never quite belonged no matter who I was with or what activities I was doing. I could be in a crowded room and would often still feel completely alone. Sometimes I felt I struggled to truly connect with people. I often would space out during school, I was clumsy, would forget things constantly, and always struggled to start things and or finish things. I’d get so mad at myself, sitting there with so much to do,but yet sitting there frozen, unable to move to start anything that needed to be done. Over the years I started to say to myself that it must be due to me being lazy, weird, broken or stupid. I learned to laugh at myself or at subtle digs others would make towards my faults as a way to cope, making it appear as if I wasn’t bothered. Slowly mine and others words broke me down bit by bit, forever feeling like I couldn't live up to mine or anyones else's expectations, forever feeling like a failure. It seemed no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't do things right. I was and still am always harder on myself than anyone ever could be. I come off as unphased, but inside I often feel small, insufficient and never enough.
All of those feelings led to having and being diagnosed with anxiety and depression. A Counselor in my early 20’s seemed quite certain I had ADHD. ADHD to me were the kids that were always getting into trouble and bouncing off the walls, I was always a quiet kid, so therefore I could not possibly have ADHD. My ADHD testing at that time came back inconclusive due to the fact that at that time in my life my anxiety was not well managed and anxiety symptoms and ADHD Symptoms can be similar. I thought it was far-fetched that I had ADHD, so I didn't think any more about it.
In my mid 20’s I had my son, after his birth I was diagnosed with Postpartum depression. My feelings of not belonging, forgetfulness, fear of failure, and being never enough increased substantially with a new baby at home. With depression meds and counseling my mood improved some, enough that I could get by, but something always still felt off. I still didn't feel happy, I still felt inadequate, I still just felt overall stuck.
When my son hit the age of 4, I started seeing that in many ways he wasn't like his peers, he felt feelings to the max and struggled to regulate emotions. My feeling was that quite possibly he had ADHD. In my journey researching for my son, I started coming across posts about women getting diagnosed after their child got diagnosed, and similarly had depression but always thought maybe there was more to the story. I did more research and started to realize how differently ADHD can present in women. I got a thorough evaluation by a psychologist and it turned out that I have combined type ADHD.
I was happy that my diagnosis would possibly provide more answers in regards to my son, but as the diagnosis started to sink in,I would almost say I went through stages of grief.
Starting with DENIAL, I attempted to deny that ADHD had/has much of an impact on my life. I try to play it off as, it's no big deal, and it does not overly affect me.I also considered that maybe the psychologist and all the different tests were wrong.
As the slow realization of how great of an impact it has and does have on my entire life the ANGER kicked in. I felt that it isn’t fair and found myself just wishing that I could be “normal”. There was also anger that I didn't listen and follow up more in my early 20s when the counselor suggested that I have ADHD. I was angry at my reality and what it meant for my past, present and future.
BARGANING,I kept telling myself if I just try harder or do things differently it will make everything okay. Funny enough that isn't exactly how this ADHD thing works.
The feelings of anger turned to sadness aka the stage of grief also known as the DEPRESSION stage. I felt like many lost opportunities, a lot of negative self-talk, a lot of lost potential happiness due to my ADHD and also due to the lack of knowing. Thinking back to when I would refer to myself as lazy, weird, stupid, broken, usually those feelings and feelings of inadequacy all stemmed from the differences in how my brain functioned, struggles with executive function and other traits related to ADHD. The sadness of realizing many things will always quite possibly be more challenging for me than many.
ACCEPTANCE is challenging. Sometimes I go back and forth to the depression and anger stage while working on the acceptance piece. I tend to hold myself to very high standards (perfectionism, apparently a very common trait among women with ADHD) , so it's difficult for me to accept that I just can't snap my fingers and fix myself. I keep thinking that if I am aware of my struggles, I should be able to just fix it all. A great example of this is initiating tasks, like writing this blog. I kept laying there knowing I needed to write this, but felt frozen , overwhelmed and unable to start. I knew that this is happening because of my ADHD and is one of my ADHD things. To me, because I recognize it, then I should easily be able to overcome it. Unfortunately recognizing it despite being a good step, did not miraculously make me overcome my struggle or make it disappear. Wishful thinking that it would be that easy.
I am working on accepting myself where I am, learning new coping mechanisms, being kind to myself, all while continuing to take steps towards personal growth. I am realizing the acceptance stage has many parts. It isn't just accepting the diagnosis, it's becoming accepting of who you are and all that it entails.
From the tender age of 7, I felt like an outsider in every facet of life - at home, with friends, in school, and even at work. Through my formative years and into young adulthood, I grappled with a general sense of not belonging, struggling beneath the weight of undiagnosed ADHD. Homework sessions with my determined mother became both a testament to her unwavering support and a battleground against my relentless inner turmoil. While her encouragement instilled in me a steadfast sense of determination, my undiagnosed condition amplified my struggles, making every task feel like an insurmountable challenge.
Throughout my schooling, I soldiered on, hesitant to seek assistance, haunted by memories of late-night battles with assignments. Despite occasional disruptions, my ADHD remained undetected, hidden behind a veil of untapped potential. Little did anyone, including myself, realize the toll my efforts were exacting as I attempted to navigate an educational system seemingly designed to stump me.
University marked the onset of a downward spiral. The skills I had practiced proved inadequate in the face of growing academic demands, leaving me lost without the familiar guidance of my mother. Despite my passion for psychology, my inability to study effectively, coupled with chronic procrastination, undermined my confidence and led to academic underachievement.
Yet, amidst the chaos, I discovered a silver lining – I truly had a knack for multitasking, communicating effectively, and somehow maintaining a measure of order amid the chaos. These skills paved the way for a role in medical administration at an ADHD clinic in Toronto. Amidst the clinic's closure, I finally received the diagnosis that shed light on a lifetime of struggles: ADHD.
With my diagnosis came understanding, reframing my perception of myself and my capabilities. Embracing my unique cognitive circumstances, I embarked on a mission to celebrate the strengths inherent in an ADHD brain, challenging the prevailing narrative of doom and gloom. Despite the inevitable hurdles, I found success. I founded and owned my own virtual healthcare administrative business for eight years before transitioning to the corporate arena, where my talents are recognized and even nurtured. But also, I have been fortunate to have found a supportive partner and have two wonderful daughters. Having created a life that I sometimes did not think would happen for me.
If my story resonates with you, I offer a sign of hope: embrace your path, please seek out the support you deserve, and view your diagnosis not as a burden, but as an opportunity for some self-discovery and growth. Within the muddle of difficulty lies the promise of self-realization and empowerment. Learning to embrace your potential, for within the depths of your unique mind lies boundless opportunity.
This journey with ADHD has been one of constant discovery and growth. At times, it felt like an uphill battle, navigating through a world that seemed designed for minds unlike mine. But with every challenge also became a powerful lesson, and with every setback, an opportunity to redefine success on my own terms.
One of the most profound realizations on this journey was understanding the true power of self-acceptance. For years, I struggled against the societal and family expectations, feeling inadequate because my mind simply worked differently. Except through my experiences, I have come to embrace the richness of my mind and its difference.
ADHD is not a limitation; it is a unique lens through which I perceive and interact with the world. And once I embraced this perspective, doors began to open widely, and my possibilities seem endless.
My journey also taught me the importance of seeking support and leveraging resources. For too long, I bore the weight of my struggles alone, unaware that help was within reach. But with my diagnosis came a network of professionals and peers who understood my journey and offered guidance and support. Whether through therapy, medication, or simply connecting with others who shared similar experiences, I found solace in knowing that I was not alone on this path.
But perhaps the most transformative aspect of this journey has been reframing my understanding of success. In a world that often measures achievement by conventional standards, I have learned to redefine success on my own terms. It is not about fitting into a predetermined norm or meeting subjective benchmarks; it is about embracing my unique talents and finding fulfillment in the journey itself. And in doing so, I have discovered a sense of purpose and satisfaction that surpasses traditional notions of success.
I believe that I stand as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the transformative power of self-discovery. My journey with ADHD has been anything but easy, but it has also been incredibly rewarding. Through the highs and lows, I have emerged stronger, a bit wiser, and a lot more resilient than I ever thought possible.
So, to anyone navigating through their own journey with ADHD, I would like to offer my advice: embrace your uniqueness, seek out for support, or help, and never lose sight of your potential. The road ahead may feel constantly challenging and even exhausting, but within you lies the power to overcome any obstacle and to forge your own path to fulfillment.
Hello CADDAC Community,
I’m Brenda Logan, a counselling therapist and registered nurse, and I’d like to share my story with you. It's a story about living with ADHD and insomnia, about the challenges and triumphs, and the power of support and understanding.
My journey began in childhood, marked by a constant feeling of being out of sync. Like many girls of my generation, my struggles with ADHD were not recognized. The disorder was less understood, especially in females, and I grappled with a pervasive sense of disorganization and forgetfulness. School presented its own set of challenges - misplaced items, forgotten assignments, and an overwhelming feeling that my brain functioned differently. It was a silent, internal struggle, lacking a name or a clear path to understanding.
Entering college, the challenges of ADHD became more pronounced. Yet, it was during these formative years that the support of key individuals shone through. They provided encouragement and understanding, helping me navigate the complexities of higher education. Their belief in my abilities, coupled with my determination, propelled me through various obstacles. This journey through college was not just about acquiring knowledge; it was about building resilience and learning the value of perseverance and support.
I recognize that my journey through higher education was not just a result of hard work and determination but also a product of luck and privilege. The opportunity to pursue higher education is a privilege that not everyone has access to, and I am deeply aware of and grateful for the advantages it provided me. This awareness fuels my commitment to empathize with and support others from diverse backgrounds and circumstances.
The turning point in understanding my ADHD came unexpectedly in my 50s. While attending a professional training session on ADHD, I experienced a moment of profound self-recognition. The struggles described were not just clinical observations but mirrored my experiences. This revelation opened the door to a world of understanding and treatment options. It marked the beginning of a new chapter, where my condition had a name and a path towards management.
Since beginning my treatment for ADHD, the most impactful change has been my ability to be truly present. I can connect with people on a deeper level, track conversations, and experience a sense of calm I had never known before. The constant 'hamster wheel' of restlessness in my chest has quieted, allowing me to engage with the world in a more meaningful and grounded way.
Parallel to my journey with ADHD was my struggle with chronic insomnia. For years, sleep eluded me, with bedtime procrastination and restless nights being constant companions. This struggle led me to explore Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for Insomnia (CBT-I). My pursuit of CBT-I training not only brought relief to my sleep issues but also revealed a significant overlap between insomnia and ADHD among my clients. This insight was pivotal, guiding me to integrate ADHD and sleep problems into my therapeutic focus.
My personal experiences with ADHD and insomnia have profoundly shaped my approach to therapy. I understand the frustrations and challenges of these conditions, and I strive to create a therapeutic space where my clients feel seen and understood. Empathy, grounded in shared experience, is the cornerstone of my practice. I believe in the transformative power of feeling validated and supported, and I aim to provide that to everyone who walks through my door.
My background in nursing has significantly influenced my counselling practice with a
multidisciplinary approach that allows me to see each client's situation through a comprehensive lens, considering the interconnectedness of mind, body, and spirit. I believe in treating the whole person, not just the symptoms, and this philosophy underpins every aspect of my work.
An important lesson I've learned through my journey is that it's never too late for treatment and to make positive changes, particularly for those in their 50s and beyond. Getting an ADHD diagnosis when I did, at this stage in life, felt like suddenly turning on a light in a dark room. It wasn't just surprising; it gave me a new sense of hope. This was a real eye-opener for me. I discovered that treatments that work aren't just for young people. Even in my 50s, there were options that could make a big difference. It was like finding out there was a key to a door I didn't even know was there.
Women like me, embarking on this path later in life, might face unique challenges. We might look back and wonder how our lives could have been different with earlier recognition and intervention. Yet, it's essential to recognize the strength and potential that lie in the present moment. The insights and understanding we gain now can lead to profound personal growth and a better quality of life.
My experience is a testament to this. Embarking on treatment in my 50s opened new doors to self-awareness, improved relationships, and a deeper connection with others. It allowed me to be more present, to listen and engage more fully. This journey taught me that change an growth are always possible, regardless of age.
So, to all women who are discovering their ADHD later in life, know this: you are not alone, andit's not too late. There is immense value in understanding yourself better now and using that knowledge to shape your future. The journey towards treatment and positive change can begin at any stage of life, bringing new opportunities for fulfillment and joy.
My journey with ADHD has been one of continuous learning and growth. It has taught me the importance of understanding, adaptation, and empathy, which has instilled a commitment to supporting individuals through their challenges, empowering them to transform these obstacles into opportunities for growth and fulfillment.
In sharing my experiences, I hope to enhance understanding and support for those with ADHD. Recognizing ADHD as a neurobiological condition rather than a personal or moral failing can shift the way we view it. This change can lead to less stigma and more self-kindness, helping us better understand our experiences. It paves the way for more effective help and more substantial efforts in advocacy and education. As a result, we can become more confident in asking for what we need and using our unique abilities. This empowers us to build more rewarding lives, turning challenges with ADHD into opportunities for personal growth and empowerment.
Thank you for allowing me to share a part of my journey with you. I hope my story can offer comfort, understanding, and a sense of shared experience to those navigating similar paths.
Take care of yourself (you’re worth it!),
Brenda
