For most of my life, ADHD was framed as a disorder—something to manage, hide, or overcome. It showed up in forgotten appointments, half-finished projects, lost keys, emotion, and the shame spiral that came after. But what no one told me is that buried inside those “symptoms” was a system of superpowers—waiting to be activated, not suppressed.
Now, I don’t see ADHD as a limitation. I see it as an operating system that runs differently than most—and when you learn how to navigate it, it becomes a powerful tool for creativity, innovation, and impact.
You can harness the power within your brain to help you Thrive Forward - roller coasters and all.
1. Hyperfocus is a Hidden Superpower
People with ADHD can enter a state of flow that’s unmatched—deep dives, intense creative bursts, laser-sharp attention to something we care about. While others are still ramping up, we’re already 40 tabs deep, building the next big thing. The trick? Align your life with your interests, and design your work around your sparks.
2. Divergent Thinking is Our Default
We don’t just think outside the box—we forget the box existed. Our brains are wired for connections, not categories. This means ideas, innovations, and problem-solving strategies that others may never consider come naturally to us. In a world that desperately needs new solutions, this kind of thinking isn’t just valuable—it’s essential.
3. We’re Energy-Based, Not Time-Based
The neurotypical world runs on clocks. We run on momentum, inspiration, urgency, and emotion. Once I stopped trying to force myself into 9-to-5 molds and instead structured my life around when I work best (and how I work best), everything changed. Time blindness became time alchemy.
4. Emotional Intensity = Empathic Supercharge
Many of us with ADHD feel everything deeply. That can feel overwhelming at times—but it also gives us incredible empathy, emotional intelligence, and intuition. We’re the ones who can sense a vibe shift in a room or rally others with our passion and presence. That intensity, when channeled, is magnetic.
5. Restless? Or Relentless?
ADHD often makes us feel “restless”—always seeking, dreaming, chasing the next thing. But that’s not a flaw. That’s relentless curiosity, and it drives us to grow, evolve, and explore possibilities others might not even see. The world doesn’t change because people follow routines. It changes because someone couldn’t sit still and decided to build something new.
Reframing is Everything
ADHD doesn’t need to be “fixed.” It needs to be understood, honored, and supported.
It’s not always easy. There are still hard days, distractions, setbacks, and system overloads. But I’ve learned to stop fighting how I’m wired and start working with my brain, not against it.
When you give someone with ADHD the freedom to be who they are, the structure to succeed, and the support to shine—you don’t just help them survive.
You unleash their superpower.
I call it NeuroMagnificence.
You may be wondering how I went from being an ADHD parent to also being an ADHD advocate.
The first two decades of my career taught me that I could not be an advocate for anyone, on any matter, if I did not first understand and fully appreciate the interconnectedness of trauma, shame and systemic failure.
Consider Bessel Van Der Kolk, The Body Keeps The Score, “…four fundamental truths: (1) our capacity to destroy one another is matched by our capacity to heal one another. Restoring relationships and community is central to restoring well-being; (2) language gives us the power to change ourselves and others by communicating our experiences, helping us to define what we know, and finding a common sense of meaning; (3) we have the ability to regulate our own physiology, including some of the so-called involuntary functions of the body and brain, through such basic activities as breathing, moving, and touching; and (4) we can change social conditions to create environments in which children and adults can feel safe and where they can thrive (2015, 38).
With the above in mind, imagine the trauma inflicted on parents when professionals and institutions blame them for their child’s reactions. This blame denies the safety required for vulnerable communication. The parents will feel powerless and helpless as they are held solely responsible for what they cannot control and do not fully understand. They are denied the support they so desperately need. They fight, flee, or freeze.
I am one of these parents. I came to the school asking to be part of their community, seeking their help. They abandoned me.
Now, consider the trauma inflicted on a child when the adults in their life blame them for the dysregulation they cannot control. The child has no choice but to assume they are the problem. They fall victim to an environment they have no control over. They feel powerless and helpless. They fight, flee, or freeze.
So where to we go from here?
I have learned that advocacy is one of the tools that can help to dismantle discrimination, stigmatization, ignorance and the misuse of power and authority. Making my ADHD advocacy public denies the opportunity for our experience to be weaponized against us and instead allows us to focus on healing.
Before our personal details are revealed, I want to tell you more about the person behind these words.
I am 49 as I write this. I live in Peterborough, Ontario, but I was born and raised in Hamilton. We moved to Peterborough when our oldest was five years old and our twins were three and a half. I never thought I would live here, and I had never spent any time here. Funny how quickly everything can change. My husband was going to be transferred, and Peterborough was one of the options. We drove up one afternoon, spent the night, puttered about the city, and said, “Yeah, OK, we can make this work.” Within three months, we bought a new house, sold our old house, and moved to Peterborough. This was a huge transition. I did not know a single person living here. None of us did. It worked out.
Prior to moving to Peterborough, I had been working as a social worker for many years. At different points in time I worked within the Hamilton emergency shelter system, child welfare, and inpatient psychiatry.
Since living in Peterborough, I have gained additional experience. I worked in community mental health, hospital settings, home care, and hospice. I also returned to school and earned my MSW. It took me four years to accomplish this, taking one course at a time. I am very proud of this achievement. As soon as I earned my MSW, I opened up my private practice, which is what I do now.
Needless to say, I have more than two decades of experience working as a social worker. Most of this experience occurred within our government systems, as a case manager, advocate, program manager, and therapist. I love what I do and feel very honoured and committed to continuing. I also want to share that I chose to do my MSW at Dalhousie University for its focus on social justice.
Are you starting to understand why my personal life and professional life started to merge?
I did not seek or plan to be an ADHD advocate; it was inevitable.
I know how to be a social worker, an advocate, and an activist. It is wild to say, but I have more experience in years as a social worker than I do as a parent. Despite this, I was not prepared for the resistance I encountered from the school system. Nor did I expect it to get so personal.
I have never confronted a system so desperate to remain the same despite advances in research, knowledge, and best practices. I have never faced an essential service that impacted the lives of so many people, that held so much power, with little to no accountability. I don’t know about you, but I know of no examples of positive outcomes born from those who hold incredible power and influence without accountability. I know of many instances where these factors have been causal to atrocities.
We need to worry about this.
It is no wonder that students, their families, and the professionals working within this system are not well. Moral injury and trauma are being inflicted without consequence, question, or a genuine effort or desire for it to be different. Narratives are being manipulated and dominated by the same well-funded voices. The government blames the boards, the teachers, and the unions. The teachers blame the government, boards, and parents. The unions blame the government and promote the victimhood of teachers. Research and news articles mostly focus on poor student behaviour. Few articles are printed or trend when they talk about the experience of students and families. We would much rather view teachers as the Mary Poppins-like figures of our communities, the governments as never doing enough, and the students through the lens of “there’s something wrong with kids today.”
Too many adults blame children and youth with little to no critical thought of their role in shaping these kids. While attempting to collaborate with the adult professionals working within the schools, I noticed that most of them did not have the regulatory skills they expected the kids to have.
Witnessing the trauma inflicted on our ADHD youth strengthened the ADHD advocate in me.
“You’re lazy,” “try harder,” “focus,” “sit still,” “you need to see a doctor,” “you will amount to nothing,” “let’s see who gets further in life,” “you have no friends,” “no one likes you,” “you’re going to live in your parents’ basement,” “live off your dad’s money.”
That is but a small sample of what my kids, primarily my daughter, heard day in and day out from the adult professionals who were supposed to be teaching them, mentoring them, and modelling the skills they were expected to develop.
I can prove it, too. I have receipts.
Your ADHD Advocate,
Lynn
Last week, my son attended his regular swimming lesson. His new instructor has seemed annoyed with him from the first lesson. I teach my child to begin from the assumption of positive intent for all people. However, as the weeks passed, my son’s thoughts went from “maybe the instructor was having a bad day”, to “if it was a bad day, why does he seem only irritated at me?” to “I’m trying my best, but it doesn’t seem to matter.” This descent into hopelessness isn’t uncommon for neurodivergent kids (or adults!) and it reflects the reality of how one is treated. I spoke to the swim school when my child told me the instructor was holding him/letting him go roughly, and that his neck got hurt when the instructor moved it to correct positioning. Things got better - for one week.
Two weeks later, my son was characteristically bouncing up and down, waiting on the submerged platform for his turn. Though all children find it difficult to wait and have various strategies to do so (I constantly observe children in the pool submerging themselves repeatedly, turning around, hanging off the edge, splashing and pushing each other etc.), my son’s hopping seemed tame. This day, his toe had been pinched accidentally by another child, so he was holding it while hopping.
Though my son had not delayed or disrupted the progress of the lesson, and had not engaged in any unsafe behavior, the instructor, visibly annoyed, came over and said “Why can’t you just be a normal human being and stop moving around?!” (My son, to his credit, and despite his shock, defended himself (and others), saying “being a human being and not moving around aren’t the same thing.”)
I won’t lie. When I heard about this, I was livid.
Not only did this instructor, from a position of power, dehumanize my child publicly, but he also missed an opportunity to praise a child who had found a good self-regulation strategy to patiently wait his turn in a loud and over stimulating environment.
The instructor denied that he said this, of course, but I believe my child. When I spoke to the school about the ableism and a lack of professionalism demonstrated over weeks, they pointed out that he was one of the most senior instructors. I asked how much experience and training he had with neurodivergent children, and there was no response.
Because neurodivergent children have traditionally been grouped together in segregated classes historically within schools, there is a long history of particularly well-trained instructors who specialize in teaching those classes. This allows others to spend years gaining experience but never with a wide spectrum of children. With more inclusive forms of education, it becomes imperative that all those teaching children understand the wide natural variability in child development and learn instructional and pedagogical strategies to ensure everyone has an equal opportunity to learn. In the case where one neurodivergent child is a small group of children (in a family, a school classroom or swimming lesson), their differences are more obvious, and, to an untrained instructor (or uneducated parent), those traits might be interpreted as laziness because of a moral failing, getting distracted due to a lack of self-control, not following instructions due to defiance. The adult, who doesn’t understand the neurodevelopmental differences interprets this as lack of will-power, and a moral failing or character flaw, and gets annoyed at having to repeat instructions, or find different ways of capturing attention.
During the weeks leading up this event, the instructor’s body language and facial expressions, his abrupt, flat tone and curt speech were subtle signs of which my child was acutely aware. He became hypervigilant, monitoring the instructor’s face and hoping for one small smile, but even when he did well in class, it didn’t come. He could sense his instructor’s low-level continual irritation under the surface from the moment he walked into class and had to endure being both metaphorically and physically shoved away.
This treatment is unfortunately also common in experiences at school, in the community, and at home, and one of the reasons that neurodivergent children internalize negative social messaging and develop less self-efficacy very early in life. From this point of view, it makes sense to stop trying, because you’ll never be given a fair shot - it was too late from the very beginning. And then of course the resultant messaging of “not working up to their potential”, “needs to put it more effort” punish children and simultaneously obscure the root causes of this behavior, the systemic negation of their personhood as worthy and equal. I spend time every day counteracting these messages with my child and modeling how we treat people and talk about people.
Though I have emphasized the need for this school to provide training for their instructors, the fact is that most training on the matter still approaches neurodivergence from a deficit position, based on a medical model. In this model, a child who doesn’t develop in a linear fashion, or whose test scores fall outside “the norm” marks them for life based on a very narrow understanding of ability. (The history of these models and tests merits scrutiny, if that interests you.)
Neurodiversity-affirming education (and therapy, and workplaces!), ideally created by neurodivergent individuals would be a much better option. The neurodiversity paradigm views the differences in how human minds develop as natural and necessary to have a rich and thriving society. We owe many human advances to neurodivergent individuals because of their unique perception, ability to connect seemingly disparate things, ability to generate novel ideas quickly and frequently, creativity, hyperfocus and innovation.
However, one’s “productivity” in society should not be the criterion by which we value someone’s humanity. Different ways of perceiving, behaving, communicating and “being” in this world are natural reflections of the beautiful multiplicities of the human experience. Disabled or not, neurodivergent or not, we are all “normal human beings”, and should be treated as such.
I have always been a happy go lucky, caring, hardworking woman with high expectations for myself. However, on the other hand I struggled with frequent anxiety, worries, self-doubt and scatter-brained-ness. It wasn't really until I became a mother in 2019 that the weight of my anxiety truly began to feel like far more than I could handle. At six months postpartum, the world around me flipped upside down—the COVID-19 pandemic hit. All the comforts I had once relied on, like having my parents just 10 minutes away, were suddenly stripped from me. Like so many others, I found myself navigating this new reality away from those who are most important to me without a predetermined end date.
My return to work as a teacher following motherhood and living with our ‘new normal’ only amplified my struggles. My anxiety skyrocketed, and with it, bouts of depression and physical changes, such as a significant weight gain. I could feel myself floundering at home, in my marriage, and at work. I hardly recognized myself both mentally and physically. I had a constant sense of being behind, unable to catch up with the simple tasks I had forgotten or done poorly. My to-do list grew and grew, and I couldn’t seem to check anything off.
It was during this time that I sought help. After a tearful phone call with my family physician, she recommended I start with bloodwork to check my thyroid, and to seek the support of a psychologist. I was soon diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD). I started taking medication, and it did help ease some of the immediate symptoms of anxiety. But something didn’t quite feel right. I wasn’t thriving—I was just surviving. The feeling that I was failing at the simplest things remained and I continued to question what was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I keep track of things? Why couldn’t I follow through what I needed to do? I couldn’t help but feel like I was drowning in a sea of responsibilities that I just couldn’t manage.
Then, one day, my psychologist asked “Have you considered that ADHD might be a possibility?” At first, I brushed it off. ADHD? Me? I didn’t fit the stereotypical image of what ADHD looked like—especially not as an adult woman. But my psychologist wasn’t giving up. He was persistent, and eventually, he said, “I’d bet my license on you having ADHD.”
I finally took his advice seriously. I started reading everything I could about ADHD—particularly the inattentive type, which didn’t align with the stereotypical hyperactive image I had of ADHD. As I read about inattentive type ADHD presentations in women, it hit me: this is me. Every article, every symptom list—there it was. I checked every box. I had spent years struggling with these symptoms, not understanding that they weren’t a sign of failure, but of a condition that many live with. Moreover, because of the more silent symptoms of girls and women, ADHD was often missed or misdiagnosed.
I returned to my family physician with the theory of my psychologist. She requested that he forward her his notes, and that I fill out a screener. We booked a follow up appointment within 2 weeks and armed with all of this information the process of getting diagnosed with inattentive type ADHD was a surprisingly smooth one. With the right medication, therapy, and a shift in focus to managing my ADHD tendencies became the turning point I had been desperately seeking.
The transformation that followed was nothing short of life-changing. For the first time in years, I started to thrive. I could focus. I could get things done. At work, I became more involved and engaged in every facet of the job. I started taking on leadership roles that I had previously avoided. At home, I was a better communicator with my partner (emphasis on better, not perfect!). I found exercise that I actually enjoyed. I stopped binge eating due to stress and began losing the weight I had gained in those years of emotional turmoil. I even started a side hustle, diving into my passion for art.
I am still far from perfect, but I’m learning to embrace the fact that struggling with ADHD doesn’t mean I’m lazy, incompetent, or incapable. In fact, it means I have strengths that others might not even realize are possible. ADHD has gifted me with a unique perspective and creativity, and it’s given me the tools to succeed in ways I never thought possible. It’s a part of who I am, and I’m learning how to navigate it, not let it define me.
While all of these exciting changes took place, not every moment was celebratory. I mourned the years I spent not understanding why I struggled the way I did. I thought there was something fundamentally wrong with me, when in reality, I was just struggling with a disorder that wasn’t widely recognized in women like me. It’s a hard thing to realize that I could have been living differently, but I also find peace in knowing that I’m here now. I’m thriving, learning, and growing. And that’s all I can ask for.
The journey isn’t easy, and I know there will be days when I feel overwhelmed, but I no longer feel alone in it. ADHD, while a challenge, has opened doors to strengths and possibilities I never thought I could unlock. It has shown me that I am capable, that I am worthy, and that I can take on life—not in the way I thought I would, but in the way that’s true to me.
If you're struggling, I want you to know that you are not alone. There may be a reason for the struggles you face that you haven’t yet discovered. Keep searching, keep learning, and don’t be afraid to ask for help. You might just find the answers you’ve been seeking—and it might change everything.
As a mom raising three boys with ADHD, you’d think I’d have seen the signs. My boys were all diagnosed young, with their ADHD showing up in the more “obvious” ways—hyperactivity, impulsiveness, and the constant need to move. I thought I had a pretty clear picture of what ADHD looked like. But my daughter? Because she didn’t fit the typical ADHD mould, I didn’t recognize what was happening beneath the surface.
When she was younger, I often marvelled at her energy. She was outgoing—always the first to introduce herself to new kids at the playground—and loved entertaining everyone around her. Her passion for drawing, creative storytelling, and ability to lose herself for hours in a book filled me with pride. She also loved to please and impress her teachers, friends, and family. As my first child of five, she was helpful and appeared mature for her age—a true old soul.
Underneath that bright exterior, though, I sometimes worried that she was trying too hard and cared too much about what others thought. But it didn’t seem to affect her. As a self-professed perfectionist (explained later), I overlooked how much she pushed herself to do more and be more.
As she entered her later elementary years, I could see the pressure she put on herself intensify. She didn’t just want to meet expectations—she felt she had to exceed them to prove her worth. When she couldn’t or when she upset someone, especially friends, her world seemed to collapse.
I began to notice my once-vibrant, confident daughter pulling away from friends, school, and even me. She appeared sad and anxious about things that never bothered her before. Her spark was fading. I chalked some of it up to typical teenage stress. After all, she was my first daughter, and I wasn’t an easy teen either—my parents reminded me of that regularly!
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, things got worse. She became moody, irritable, and constantly on edge. Her outbursts went from zero to one hundred, with no middle ground. It was like a slow unravelling none of us could fully understand. When depression hit, it hit hard. Watching her retreat from life and from me, when I thought we were so close, was terrifying.
Eventually, we ended up in a psychologist’s office, where she was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. At first, it felt like we finally had an answer. But despite therapy and the new strategies we implemented at home, nothing seemed to work. She was still struggling socially, academically, and emotionally. It kept getting worse, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still missing.
The Turning Point.
When the pandemic hit, and she was home all the time, we started noticing behaviours that didn’t quite fit with her mental health diagnosis. We dug deeper and eventually discovered that she had ADHD. Given our family history and everything I thought I knew about it, I couldn’t believe I had missed that she had ADHD.
She had been masking it for so long—working twice as hard to succeed in school and activities to make up for her ADHD challenges. But that constant striving for perfection wore her out, and eventually, she couldn’t keep up anymore.
The Diagnosis Wasn’t Enough.
Though the ADHD diagnosis felt like a turning point, the worst was yet to come. Mid-morning on Easter Sunday, my daughter attempted suicide. We were all outside playing catch—it stands out in my memory because it was the happiest I’d seen her in a while. She went inside, and after some time, my husband asked where she was. In that moment, I felt something I had never felt before—deep, gut-wrenching fear. I found her and called an ambulance, terrified of what would happen. She was rushed to the hospital and, thankfully, survived. But I was left in shock, questioning how we had missed how deeply she was struggling.
After that, we received more intensive support and finally connected the missing puzzle piece—her anxiety and depression were symptoms of her undiagnosed ADHD, which had always been there. While we focused on her mental health, we hadn’t realized that untreated ADHD was the root cause of much of her struggles. Addressing ADHD was the key to truly supporting her.
The Takeaway.
October is ADHD Awareness Month, and I want to share an important takeaway from our story.
I had no idea that anxiety and depression are common misdiagnoses for teenagers, especially girls. In fact, 46% of females are misdiagnosed with another mental health disorder before being diagnosed with ADHD. Girls often don’t show the stereotypical signs of ADHD, like hyperactivity. Instead, it can manifest as inattentiveness, low self-esteem, daydreaming, or, in my daughter’s case, anxiety and depression.
Our experience gave us clarity on what to do next. We put better support systems in place. Therapy helped her work through the anxiety and depression, the school helped manage her workload, medication was part of her multi-modal treatment, and I learned more about how ADHD shows up differently in girls. A year later, I realized I was part of that overlooked statistic and was diagnosed as well (remember that perfectionism I mentioned?).
For both my daughter and me, life before and after an ADHD diagnosis is night and day. The diagnosis—and understanding how to manage it—can be life-changing. Once we realized that ADHD was the root of so many struggles, we began implementing strategies that made a real difference. The weight lifted. We stopped feeling “broken” or “less than.” Understanding how the ADHD brain works empowered us to approach challenges differently.
Awareness and understanding unlocked our true potential. My daughter has since graduated from high school and works every day to show up as the confident, vibrant person she truly is. As a mom, I want all my children to feel understood and supported. Now that I have a clearer picture of what ADHD looks like, I know the road ahead can be navigated with more certainty and joy.
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.
What does it really mean to let go?
There are different ways to let go. When you hold onto beliefs, ideas, and stories that cause you suffering it looks like tension, stress, anger, resentment, anxiety and overall disconnection. When you won’t let go of belongings that you don’t need anymore you end up with chaos, confusion and a cluttered mind. When we hold on to how things “should” be done, we don’t have enough time to do other things that are important, including taking care of health and well-being.
Holding on means you are stuck in the past and to let go means to be present with what is now. Letting go means you’ve come to terms with what has happened. The power is in the now and that is where you can create. Now is where you are connected to your body, breath and your conscious mind. Letting go means cutting the energetic ties to the past that keep you weighed down, depressed, and stuck.
Decluttering Your Outer World
When you begin to declutter your outer world it allows you to see the inner patterns that created the clutter in the first place. When you let go of belongings in an intentional and conscious way you also let go of the emotional attachments you have to them( old beliefs, thoughts, “shoulds”, guilt, shame and resentments). This doesn’t mean getting rid of most of your belongings and becoming a minimalist. It also doesn’t mean that you have to do it in one round. It is a process of understanding what was coming in, why you are keeping it and what stops you from letting it go.
Step 1 – Connect
Get clear on what your values and intentions are. Make a list of 10 values that are most important to you now and then group them into three main themes. Those three themes will be your anchors for when you need to make decisions. You’ll reference them to see, ok, if commitment is important to me then skipping the gym today doesn’t align with that value.
Next is having a general sense of what your intentions are during this process. Then make a list of what anchors you will use to help you stay focused, grounded and connected when you get distracted, triggered, or overwhelmed. For example, going for a walk, doing a meditation, putting your hand on your heart.
Step 2 – Create
What is it that you want to create in your life? Creating is one of the wonderful gifts of being human. When we set definitive goals we stifle our creativity. Focusing on what you want to create gives you a map to follow that is wide open for life to happen and allow for change. When we focus on creating it allows for ideas, opportunities and possibilities that are way beyond what we originally thought. The values and intentions are your anchor to stay focused and not stray too far away.
Step 3 – Release
Take an inventory of what you have. I always recommend to start with your spaces and keep it simple by starting with one category at a time, ie. clothing, books. Do this by sorting that category on a large cleared surface, make an excel sheet for time and finances and use a journal when you are reflecting on your relationships.
Once you see it all,you are able to gain a lot of insight, awareness and guidance on what needs to change. Now it’s time to let go of what doesn’t match your values, intentions and what you want to create!
This step is probably the biggest one because the insight you gain allows you to see WHY you have so much life clutter. It could be a belief that you can’t let go of something because you might need it one day and understand that the fear is causing havoc in your life. Getting support and guidance from a trauma therapist or coach during this phase is integral to making true change.
Step 4 – Recalibrate and reorganize
Now it’s time to recalibrate with what’s left and get organized. When it comes to your belongings it means zoning your spaces so that they match your intentions. For example, you want to read more so you move your shelf next to a reading chair and have all your books there instead of having them in multiple places. When it comes to your time, you zone your day for what you are focusing on. For example, having a set time to check emails instead of doing it often and randomly throughout the day, which inevitably wastes time.
Step 5 – Rhythm
Getting into your rhythm means setting boundaries and creating new habits so that you can sustain the changes you’ve made. Where do you need to start saying no? Is it when you go shopping and see something on sale that you don’t need (this helps both financially and with physical clutter)? What habits and daily routines will you integrate to help keep your spaces organized so that you can focus on what you are creating instead of feeling stressed and overwhelmed? How will you integrate more self care and focus around your wellbeing and overall health?
Decluttering Your Inner World
Sounds a little weird, eh!? The reality is clutter comes in different forms including our minds, hearts and body. If you fill your mind with negative thoughts about yourself it creates clutter and prevents you from seeing your true essence. If you fill your body with food and substances that cause harm then it gets clogged up and doesn’t run smoothly and optimally. You get the picture.
This internal clutter then affects the decisions you make, how you behave and how you feel about yourself. This comes from a combination of how you grew up, your life experiences both in the home and the world around you, cultural viewpoints, trauma etc. Often people get disconnected from their inner world in order to cope and survive. This causes a weakening of intuition, mind-body connection and being able to act from your true power and with compassion. To learn more about this process you can check out this video here.
Anyone who has a child with ADHD knows that they can present unique difficulties when parenting. The research backs this up: Families with ADHD report more conflict than families without, and parents of children with ADHD are often less confident in their ability to regulate their children (Park et al., 2017; Weyers et al., 2019). I knew this dynamic to be true in my own family. My brother has been diagnosed with ADHD since he was 7 years old, but the frequent battles between himself and my parents have been present in our home for as long as we can remember. Given that ADHD is a heritable disorder, there is a running joke in our family as to who is responsible for passing it down to my brother. Although made in jest, it sparked a personal interest in how ADHD has manifested itself in my family lineage, and how parenting with potentially undiagnosed ADHD may have exacerbated the tension between my brother and my parents.
Cut to today, I currently research parent-child relationship dynamics for children with ADHD, specifically in a school context. Much of the literature on these topics mirrored my own experience with my brother, both as a witness to the conflict at home and regarding my parents’ experience navigating the school system. The research almost seemed unanimous in their conclusions that ADHD always serves as a deficit to both parent and child, regardless of who is diagnosed. However, during my search, I came across the Similarity-Fit hypothesis. In their seminal paper, Psychogiou et al. (2007) discovered that in parent-child dyads where both members had ADHD, the relationship quality was somewhat improved compared to dyads where only one member displayed ADHD symptoms. This finding has been replicated in other research, especially among dyads where the parent has especially high symptom severity (Griggs & Mikami, 2011; Johnston et al., 2012; Psychogiou et al., 2008).
The authors’ explanation for this phenomenon can be traced back to the amount of empathy the ADHD parent has for their ADHD child. The theory posits that the reason parent and child can avoid increased conflict is because there is a shared understanding of each other’s minds. Especially for parents with severe ADHD, they are more likely to extend empathy to their child during times of high stress, regardless of the symptom severity of the child (Johnston et al., 2012). This is not to say that neurotypical parents don’t have empathy for their children with ADHD, but having lived experience of what they are going through every day seems to make it easier to overlook certain deficits. As a result, when parents’ ADHD symptom severity is similar to their child’s symptom severity, the shared understanding between them ameliorates the frequency of conflict and improves the closeness between parent and child.
These findings stood in contrast to just about everything I thought I knew about parent-child relationships with ADHD. It led me to re-evaluate the existing literature through a new lens: If we are to investigate ADHD in children in the context of relationship dynamics, it is potentially negligent to omit parent symptom severity when making conclusions as to how ADHD affects the relationship. Even more so, it made me re-evaluate my family’s dynamic. For parent-child dyads where both share an ADHD diagnosis and where there is high conflict, researchers refer to this as a similarity-misfit. That is, the symptoms of one member tend to worsen the symptoms of the other, resulting in increased conflict, which then leads to a more severe presentation of symptoms, and so on… This dynamic may be more likely to be present when the parent is undiagnosed and the child has moderate to severe ADHD. It appears in my own family there is a case of a similarity-misfit between parent and child. Regardless of fitness or mis-fitness, just having an awareness of what drives conflict between parent and child has led to a more accurate understanding of one another within my family.
40-55% of children with ADHD also have a parent with the disorder (Smalley et al., 2000). However, one wonders if there is a generational divide at play hidden in this statistic. Rates of ADHD diagnosis are rising (Abdelnour et al., 2022), and more and more women and girls are being diagnosed as we continue to understand how ADHD presents itself depending on gender. Perhaps a significant proportion of the current generation of parents of children with ADHD are simply undiagnosed. The socio-historical landscape these parents grew up in was less likely to acknowledge ADHD unless it was obvious. I am hopeful that future generations of parents with ADHD will be more inclined to extend empathy to their neurodivergent children because they will have a better understanding of themselves and their minds. Ideally, this shift can help us reframe ADHD as having potential benefits to family life, rather than always being a deficit.
From the moment she could speak, my husband and I knew our bright, highly creative, physically active daughter was “different” so we enrolled her in the local private school; we hoped the small class size and additional resources would provide whatever help she needed.
Throughout elementary school and high school, we heard the same feedback from teachers, medical professionals and family members:
“She won’t sit still when I’m talking to her.”
“If only she’d focus and pay attention.”
“She spends too much time talking and not enough time doing.”
“How do you make her listen, because she doesn’t listen to me.”
“She’s not trying hard enough.”
The first couple years were fine, but Grade 3 was a nightmare. The teacher had spent her career at an all-boys British preparatory high school, and had no patience for my impulsive, disorganized child. Parents started phoning me (this was before texting), concerned my daughter was being bullied by the teacher; in front of the class the teacher called our daughter “lazy” and “spoiled brat” and encouraged students to do the same. After additional unacceptable incidents and many meetings with school administrators, we eventually moved our daughter to another class with another teacher. I took our daughter to a therapist, but the damage was done - our happy, boisterous child became sad, anxious and fearful.
The following year our daughter’s grade 4 teacher was a kind and compassionate soul who coaxed her out of her shell. She also suggested our daughter be assessed for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) as she recognized the telltale signs (the teacher had family with ADHD). I had no idea what ADHD was or meant, but that was the eventual diagnosis. Few people had even heard of ADHD twenty years ago! I don’t have it, nor does anyone in my family, but I strongly suspect my husband does. Years ago, my husband developed many tools and coping strategies that work amazingly well for him to this day. Studies now show there is a strong hereditary component to ADHD; children are as likely to develop ADHD from their parents as their height.
I did a deep dive into all things ADHD, but back then there wasn’t much research available. I read what I could and attended workshops and conferences. Plus I stayed up to date with the research which finally confirmed ADHD is a neurodevelopmental or brain-based condition, and not a behavioural problem caused by poor parenting, too much sugar or playing too many video games.
About 15 years ago I decided to write the story my kids never had – the funny, chaotic one set in Canada about a ten-year-old girl who doesn’t quite fit in. And like my daughter when she was ten, Queenie Jean gets into trouble and again, with her teacher, her parents and the Very Important Principal at school. And again and again, Queenie feels shame and calls herself a loser.
Tapping into my life-long love of reading, English studies at university, lived-experience with ADHD, and my adult life as a chartered accountant working with non-profits, my goal was to create a totally immersive first-person point-of-view through the eyes of Queenie. The reader sees only what she sees and hears only what she hears. I wanted to clearly portray the magnitude of ADHD in family life – it’s not just a set of behaviours observed during school hours but a 24-hour, seven-days-a-week complicated reality. Queenie Jean is in Trouble Again told in contemporary time, computers, cellphones and all, with the emphasis on now, now, now.
Kids love seeing characters who look and/or act like them in the stories they read. Don’t take my word for it – The Book Trust, the UK’s largest reading charity and researchers at the University of Edinburgh recently published their findings and concluded “children benefit from seeing their experiences, and those of their friends, reflected in the books they read.” After reading stories featuring neurodivergent characters, neurodivergent kids felt more understood and also believed these stories helped reduce stigma and increase peer understanding. (“Why schools need books featuring neurodivergent characters,” https://www.booktrust.org.uk/news-and-features/features/2023/december/why-schools-need-books-featuring-neurodivergent-characters)
Sally J Pla, the award-winning American author of numerous kid’s books featuring neurodiverse characters, wrote simply and powerfully in the 2024 spring edition of Education Choices Magazine, “Stories teach us we’re not alone.” And just as importantly, “Stories teach us empathy for each other…Yet according to a 2019 study, only 3.4% of children’s books portray a disabled main character.” We know the rate of ADHD is 5-7% in Canada and the US, so when we add autism, dyslexia and other forms of learning challenges, the figures are much higher. (Sally J Pla, “Stories Can Teach Us We’re Not Alone,”)
Clearly we need lots more stories about kids with ADHD!
Although Queenie Jean is in Trouble Again is inspired by the adventures of my daughter almost twenty years ago, the novel is a work of fiction. Queenie has an easier time with school and family than my daughter did. By telling stories like this one, hopefully people will smile, perhaps recognize themselves or perhaps recognize their friend or classmate. And maybe there will be a little less misunderstanding in the world about ADHD and a little more support. I hope you check out Queenie Jean is in Trouble Again and her (my) drawings of her family and other characters in the story including her chocolate lab Coco and see what you think. And let me know. Available in bookstores across Canada.
