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
"What’s the matter with me?"
I always felt different. I thought I was weird. I believed I thought differently than other people, and the things others seemed to do easily (like keep their house clean) were things I struggled with. However, there were some things that seemed to come easier to me than to other people.
When I was a little kid, I did not think about these differences so much. However, by the time I was in my 20’s, understanding why I struggled started to be more and more on my mind. I tried my best to fit in, to use strategies for looking after my home, not being late and to get organized, but I was unable to stick to them. What is wrong with me that I cannot follow a simple chore plan?
In university, I learned a lot of different theories to explain behaviour. I always struggled with reading and spelling. “Did I have a learning disability?” I wondered. I grew up in a family where there was alcoholism. Are my struggles the result of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome? I wasn’t about to ask my mother about her drinking during pregnancy, but I was pretty sure she likely did. Are the things I struggle with a result of a childhood with family disorganization and chaos, due to childhood trauma? Were these patterns because of an emotionally abusive relationship? So many theories and any of them – or all of them – were true to a certain point. Any of these could explain some of the struggles I had, however none of them felt like the right match.
As I got older, I experienced more anxiety and depression at different times. Was this the underlying cause of the emotional roller coaster that I am often riding? I really believed that anxiety and depression were more situational and at my core I was still a very happy-go-lucky person. I struggled with feeling like I did not fit in, afraid of rejection, feeling like a fraud…I had all sorts of ideas, plans and dreams, but could never seem to put them into action. “What’s the matter with me?” I would often ask myself. Why can’t I just get it together?
Then in February 2022, I attended a presentation at the family health team where I was working. The presentation was by a psychiatrist and was about diagnosing ADHD in primary care. Like many people, when I thought about ADHD, I pictured that 10-year-old boy that can’t sit still and is always getting into trouble. I had many clients/patients who had ADHD and I knew that influenced their lives, however I did not understand exactly how much, or in what ways. I did not address the ADHD or talk about it in any real way with clients/patients. I attended the presentation with an open mind looking for information that would help me to help my clients/patients. Instead, what I heard in the presentation was the psychiatrist describing me! What! She talked about how ADHD presents in girls and women, about inattentive ADHD and the role of hormones. I cannot describe the feeling I had by the end of the presentation, but I wanted desperately to learn more about ADHD.
I spent a lot of time over the next month or so reading about ADHD online and the more I read, the more excited I felt. I always thought that I had “some” ADHD, “some” traits or behaviors, but I was not ‘hyper’! It was shocking, revealing and affirming at the same time as I read about things that others with ADHD do, that I thought I was the only one who did them. The more I learned, the more I saw myself, it felt like it fit. I felt like I had found “my people”! I talked to my family doctor, and she was supportive and then, in Aug 2022, I was formally diagnosed with ADHD inattentive type. In the blink of an eye my whole life made sense!
Today, I understand myself and accept myself more than I ever have in my entire life. Today, I know that I am not weird, stupid, or lazy, that my brain is simply different and that is ok with me. Today, I have a passion to learn everything I can about ADHD and to share it wherever I can.
Learning I had ADHD liberated me. I know. That probably doesn’t make sense to you. Please, allow me to explain…
I have been a square peg, contorting myself mercilessly, trying to fit into the round hole of societal expectations my entire life. As a young child, I was unable to colour inside the lines. Upon reflection, this feels like the perfect metaphor for my life. Why could I never stay inside the lines? What was it about me that just never really fit anywhere?
I assumed it was because I was creative. I grew up in rural Saskatchewan with only one sibling. In most of my childhood memories, I am playing alone. My family did not have a lot of disposable income as every penny was reinvested into the farm. New toys were a luxury reserved for Christmases and birthdays. So, I learned to play with what was around me. I animated the mundane and assigned characters to each of my pencil crayons. I could play for hours by myself with whatever rocks and sticks were lying around and never get bored. But when my mother came to check on the progress I had made “cleaning my room,” she was always dismayed at how much messier it was than when she first assigned the task.
And I was a messy child. I talked non-stop. I was emotional. I was clumsy. I struggled to keep my concentration while practicing piano, even though my mother was a piano teacher. Most sessions ended in tears (mine and hers, I believe). I was decent at school, catching on to most concepts quickly. But I did not apply myself when it came to subjects I was not interested in.
Looking back now, I have dozens of memories that look different through the lens of a child who has ADHD. Like so many others who are diagnosed in their forties, there is both joy and pain attached to these memories. Viewing my childhood self through the lens of ADHD is like shining a light into some very dark corners. Everything is easier to see and distinguish, but there are some things you’d rather not see up close. So many encounters, core memories and experiences take on new meaning. I have newfound self-acceptance. Suddenly time blindness, a lack of organizational skills and poor emotion regulation are symptoms of executive dysfunction – the way neurodiversity expresses itself in folks with ADHD. Executive dysfunction feels very different from a profoundly flawed character, which is how I have viewed myself for years.
How much self-hatred could have been spared if I knew there was a name for what I was going through? What kind of coping strategies might I have learned to adapt to poor memory retention, emotional reactivity and overall disorganization? What would life look like if that little girl had been supported? Who might I be? What might I have accomplished by now?
For decades, I have struggled with finding balance in my life. I tend to over commit and over engage, and I have never understood why. I can often handle a lot of tasks and take on several projects simultaneously. Yet I have never understood when enough was enough or knew when to decline new commitments. A people pleaser to the core, I never knew when to say no. For years this led to periods of high output or production and periods of massive burnout. And I could never articulate to others why I needed to take on so much to stay focused. My loved ones would often say things like, “do you think you might taking on too much?” or “are you sure you can handle all that?” Instead of hearing those messages as love or support, I heard them as a direct criticism. “Why don’t you have any faith in me?” I thought. (If you have never heard of rejection sensitivity dysphoria, look it up. I assure you; it is very real for many of us with ADHD).
What I learned about myself after diagnosis, is that certain executive dysfunctions were at the root of this cycle of high productivity followed by extreme burnout. The reason my time management was not working was because despite organizing my days and accounting for nearly every hour of every day, I was not taking into consideration my propensity for time blindness. Time disappears on me. Regularly. I struggle to switch between tasks and Lord help me if I get distracted or pulled off course. It may take hours to return to a task that could have been finished in minutes because I completely lost track of what I was doing and began a new task instead. I also often struggle to activate. I knowingly take on too much because I have always felt that, provided I am already in motion, I will stay in motion. If I stop, however, I may never get going again.
Many people who are diagnosed at my age learn about their ADHD when their children are diagnosed. As ADHD is highly heritable, parents are often assessed to determine which tree the apple fell from. In my case, this was not what led to my discovery. Having had fibroids, endometriosis and hormone imbalances, I have not been blessed with my own biological children. Little did I know the impact that hormone imbalances played on ADHD and the severity its of symptoms. I sought answers when hormonal changes coupled with traumatic experiences combined to make previously masked ADHD symptoms completely unmanageable. Why could I no longer function properly? Why was I even more emotional than usual? What on earth was wrong with me?
As it is for many people, learning I have ADHD has been a blessing. I now have names for my symptoms. Like many others have already mentioned, I have endured far more painful labels … lazy, disorganized, messy, flaky, crybaby and so on. Of all the things I have been labelled, a person with ADHD is by far the least offensive. Now I have context. Now I have language. Now I know how to set my own and others’ expectations of me. Now … I am free. My ADHD diagnosis gave that to me.
David Martin (he/him) is a risk and cyber leader with a passion for writing about humanity, neurodiversity, and, more recently, generative ai.
David holds a degree in arts from the University of Toronto and is happily married with two children. He enjoys listening to music, playing guitar and piano and sharing insights and experiences through his writing. David also publishes his ai-generated art daily on https://instagram.com/papercutscafe.
At age 53, I received a diagnosis that would change my life: attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). This revelation was surprising and transformative, shedding light on a lifetime of misunderstood experiences and behaviours.
Before my diagnosis, I went through life like a novel with missing pages, attempting to comprehend a story that seemed to leap over vital information to the storyline. I was often lost in my thoughts, and impulsivity was my frequent struggle. There are many stories I can tell that upon reflection were symptoms of my undiagnosed ADHD. I’ll share a few of these in my story below.
As a teenager, I fell behind on a project in Computer Science - writing a short program in BASIC. Instead of owning up my failure to complete the project to the teacher, I copied a friend's floppy disc (it was the 80s). The teacher caught me, and we were both held accountable for my actions.
My actions, often regrettable in hindsight, were even a mystery to me. This impulsivity, coupled with an inability to communicate my feelings effectively, strained my relationships and led to bouts of binge drinking in my youth.
In University, I had a big crush on a friend. When she showed affection for another guy, I ended the friendship altogether. The last time we spoke, she called to ask if I wanted to get together sometime,
I simply said, "No, I'm bored with that." I still don't know how I could have said something so hurtful, yet for years afterward, I thought we had just drifted apart, having forgotten the conversation entirely.
Professionally, my ADHD manifested as missed deadlines and forgotten deliverables. Despite my friendly demeanour and eagerness to please, my performance suffered. I was a serial starter, always excited about new projects but rarely seeing them through to completion. Financially, my impulsivity led to spontaneous purchases and unused memberships, further complicating my life.
For example, I must have signed up for new gym memberships at least 5 times between 30 and 45. In most cases, I signed up and visited the gym once and never returned until cancellation.
At work, I consistently received average to above-average scores on my performance. My ratings were often negatively influenced by the tasks and projects I forgot to complete. And yet, I still found myself promoted occasionally, eventually achieving the level of Director where I work today.
These achievements may have been due to my inherent abilities and willingness to work hard to solve problems. It may also have been my ability to successfully mask many of my symptoms of an ADHD diagnosis of which I had no knowledge.
The turning point came when my daughter was diagnosed with ADHD. She struggled in school, and as early as age 7, she often forgot to record assignments on the blackboard at school. She struggled to succeed in middle and high school and was highly anxious about homework and projects. While she found some relief, like me, through psychotherapy, it was not enough. She researched ADHD symptoms on her own, perhaps inspired by posts on social media about the condition.
Initially skeptical, I began recognizing my symptoms as I delved into my own research about the disorder. Through many books and online tests, this realization led me to seek a professional diagnosis.
To receive the assessment, I needed a referral from my family doctor and an initial investment of $500 of the $2500 fees from the clinic she recommended. I wasn't provided with an initial interview or intake for nearly 3 months and was at risk of losing my place and deposit if I wasn't available for that first interview.
The assessment process took nearly eight months and involved a series of appointments with psychologists, psychometry, and psychiatrists. Except for the initial interview and final diagnosis, each meeting was with someone different at the clinic.
I had to complete offline questionnaires, and my partner was also given questions to answer. The clinic asked for my school records to check for early signs of ADHD, but this paperwork was lost to time (and perhaps to ADHD). All of this work happened at the tail end of the height of the pandemic.
I was already suffering anxiety from the experience of COVID19, let alone the ADHD assessment process. But I made it through the assessment and in the end, was diagnosed with ADHD 'combined type.' I understand this classification has fallen out of favour in some circles, but I suppose it remains somewhat relevant.
My ADHD diagnosis was a relief, but it was also the beginning of a new journey. Treatment options included medication, management techniques, and psychotherapy. Having already explored psychotherapy and various management tools, I opted for medication. I started on a low dose of Vyvanse (Lisdexamfetamine), gradually increasing it until I found the right balance.
The impact of the treatment was profound. The constant 'noise' in my head quieted, and I became more focused and attentive. I had the energy to pursue a healthier lifestyle, resulting in significant weight loss and increased physical fitness.
Creatively, I was able to set and achieve goals, and my career began to flourish as my improved focus and productivity were noticed at work.
Since my diagnosis and treatment, my life has transformed in several significant ways.
My journey to an ADHD diagnosis was a long time coming. I feel like I missed out quite a bit in life. Still, on the other hand, the experiences I had with undiagnosed ADHD were unique and impactful to the direction my life has taken. Ultimately, it has led me to a place of understanding and acceptance. I've learned that it's never too late to seek help and that a diagnosis can be the first step towards a happier, more fulfilling life.
Having been through the assessment and diagnosis process, I encourage others to seek their diagnosis through professional channels. I also advocate at my workplace and personal life for those with this condition and seek new ways to live a happy and successful life with ADHD.
Growing up, I never really felt that I was the same as my peers; it wasn’t a bad thing necessarily, but I just couldn’t relate or build the connections most did at the time. I seemed like the average kid to most adults when I was growing up, as I liked video games, books, music, movies and school. If someone looked at my grades, I was a good student, and I enjoyed learning. Nothing back then would have made it obvious to someone that in my 30s, I would be diagnosed with ADHD.
Except there were. There were numerous signs that ADHD would be a struggle for me and that my brain wasn’t quite like the rest in how it processed things and worked both to my benefit and detriment whenever it felt like it. That good student:
1) had the messiest desk of anyone in their grade
2) spoke out often and couldn’t wait to give the answer
3) made careless errors in their work even though they knew the answers,
4) forgot things for class
5) would often not do homework unless it would be checked
6) had difficulty fitting in with peers even when they tried to be like the others
7) overreacted to seemingly small things
Nobody looked beyond the good grades and stereotypes that ADHD was solely a busy child who couldn’t sit still and oftentimes misbehaved because that was what people thought it looked like back then. Add in being a girl in the 90s and I would be missed off that alone.
While I was in the process of getting diagnosed at 30, I wondered numerous times if I was wrong and that there was no way I could have ADHD. I figured if all the people I interacted with couldn’t see it, it must not be there. But then I started watching videos on other people who were getting diagnosed late in life and reading as many articles as I could to understand how ADHD can present so differently in people and saw myself in many of the things I watched and read. I was eventually diagnosed with combination type ADHD and it was freeing to be told that I wasn’t wrong this whole time about feeling different from others and that everything in my head was right. It was empowering but it wasn’t entirely without some sore spots.
Though my diagnosis brought a feeling of relief and comfort, it also brought sadness with it. It was hard to look back at my life through the lens of knowing I had ADHD the whole time. I wondered if I would have been better in school or if I would have made more friends or if my childhood would have been a lot less lonely. As a young adult, I may have been more conscious of my impulsivity and not spent money I shouldn’t have or have been a healthier partner to my boyfriends at the time or recognized that not everything is a personal attack when receiving constructive criticism. While I feel this period of mourning a life that didn’t happen was necessary for growth, there is something to be said about not dwelling on it too long because it interferes with the here and now. Take the time to acknowledge the grief but celebrate being here just the way you are.
I can’t say that the celebration period doesn’t have struggles or challenges because it does. My ADHD manifests itself in so many ways and finding a fit for me between medication, strategies and overall lifestyle has been a bit of a whirlwind. I will say that my life is in a much better place post diagnosis because it’s allowed me to make peace with who I am and develop strategies to enhance my life rather than just survive it. If you cannot get a diagnosis for whatever reason (lack of access or finances), please find resources or join ADHD groups with strategies you can use to support your everyday life. We are all in this together and it’s so much better to thrive than survive.
“What would you do differently?” This is a question I am so frequently asked that I have decided to respond to it in this blog about how my children have helped me become a better person. My acupuncturist most recently asked me this question this week when discussing their own child’s teenage adventures. Over the years I have shared in the stories people related to their young ones; and have learned in the end, it is all about relationships. I am a mother and a teacher with ADHD. I also have children who have ADHD. I am an ordinary person who finds joy in everyday things. I believe we can do small things with greatness or great things can be done in small amounts. That helps me when I feel overwhelmed, which can happen with my ADHD. For example, when writing this blog or preparing a meal. As a teacher, I hope to help promote, inspire, or support greatness in small amounts every day. As parents, it would be difficult to inspire greatness in everything we did but rather, our children are remarkably great and so are we.
Even an octopus does not multitask. Do one thing at a time. Mindfully being present in my activities has helped ease my anxiety about having to retain information from conversations while simultaneously completing non-related activities. The art of conversation is hard to find at present with the busyness of modern society and technological devices. Spending time and purposefully being present with my children during their conversations is one of my favorite pastimes. Simply listening, without judgment or correction, has allowed them to develop their thoughts and feelings. Learning to listen, without trying to guide or interject, has taken time. As a parent with ADHD and children with ADHD, there are always so many thoughts that want or need to be shared. However, learning when it is appropriate is another matter. I have learned that sometimes it is necessary to listen first and wait to respond later. Feelings can be big and need space. Our children can have the last word and most of the time, they need our presence more than our voice.
Perfection is not required. However, as a parent I desperately tried to achieve this with every lunch and snack I packed for the children. Each was a non-repeating, 45-minute process, of allergy-conscious, selective-eating, healthy options, budget-limited selections. Every item was carefully chosen for its maximum health potential, likelihood to be eaten, and economic affordability. I wanted the children to find healthy food options in their lunches that supported their neurodevelopment. Ensuring the children had an abundance of food for school and the perfect lunches was a way I tried to protect them from possible negative adult perceptions. In this way, the children’s behavior couldn’t be blamed on poor food choices, lack of nutrition, or neglect. As the children aged, they began to take part in sponsored lunch programs, buying cafeteria food, trading lunches, and even asking to meet up with me for lunch. As I became more comfortable and adapted to advocating for my children, I focused less on what was in their lunches and more on what was in their classroom. It is a process.
Worrying has never stopped anything from happening, including worrying. I worried then and I worry now. For both my children and me, our journey with ADHD occurs with Anxiety. The substance of my anxiety has changed regarding my children as they have aged and have taken on more of their responsibilities. Gone are the days of having to remember tests, assignments, birthday parties, and extra pairs of shoes. The floors have walked bare and the chairs rocked for hours, waiting for phone calls or for children to come home. Children leave when emotions get too big when words fail, friends call, days are long, or adventures await. My worry turned every scenario into the worst possible situation for my children. Every time they were late or chose a friend I did not approve of, I let their diagnosis of ADHD overshadow their creativity, independence, and interpretational skills. When things go astray, ADHD can create a big “WHAT IF” monster in my head. Children do choose their friends and do stay out late. They will get bruises and get hurt. Worry has never stopped my children from any of things. Being there for them has helped them heal when it has.
Even though I feel like motherhood has given me “the pink slip” now, my children still tell me I am needed. Even as an older mom, I still learn new things about motherhood as a mom with ADHD and with older kids with ADHD. Nothing is ever complete, like laundry or the dishes. They stay piled forever. If people want to see a perfect house, they can watch television or watch a magazine. My family is not perfect, and I am not raising a house. Your home can be clean without causing you anxiety or worry. Since several members of our home have ADHD how we try to accomplish things in the home is completely different. This used to cause communication issues, and emotional tension, and consequently, not a lot was accomplished. Through counseling and learning better communication skills and spending more time listening, I learned that sometimes getting things done gets in the way of relationships. My children helped to teach me a different type of organization system where things can be visualized. They also taught me how to delegate tasks and break down jobs into smaller ones. As a single mother, I was used to doing everything myself, and being able to hyperfocus, I was able to complete tasks without issue. However, the children taught me work will always be there but sunny days or freshly fallen snow are to be enjoyed. Take the time to make memories, they will keep you company when the children are grown.
Wouldn’t it be ideal if when your child receives a diagnosis of a neurological complexity, like ADHD, you were handed a map that detailed the road ahead of you? All you would have to do as an exhausted caregiver that had made it this far was choose which door to knock on first. Instead, when caregivers are told their child has a diagnosis they often feel alone, lost, and desperate for direction on what steps to take next. Being given a diagnosis is not even half the solution to what the problem has been for their child and the world of resources, advocacy, and intervention often seems out of reach.
At least that was my experience as a mom. When my child was given a diagnosis I knew I needed to take steps, but I didn’t know where or how to start. It was only through seeking the advice of other parents who had walked the path before me that I was able to piece a plan together and baby-step my way through finding the support we so desperately needed.
For many of us raising children with exceptionalities, like ADHD, there are years that feel like our families are being tossed around in an unforgiving storm. The journey to a diagnosis is often long, with appalling wait times for assessments and paediatrician appointments. Our children have struggled for years before they receive a diagnosis and we have struggled right alongside them. We’ve been in this blustery storm with our kids for a long time when we finally make it to the Pediatricians office and instead of being handed a solution, we’re often handed a blank to-do list. There is much to be done to help our children find their own unique versions of success, but first we must scrawl out that to-do list ourselves. It’s like bumping around in a dark room looking for the light switch. You know it’s there, but the only way to find it is to grope around the room feeling the roughness of the walls searching for the switch that is going to make all the difference.
Here's the thing: it is hard enough to do the things, without first having to find out what the things are that need to be done.
Recently I joined a brand-new Paediatric Clinic that aims to provide wrap-around, low-barrier services to families before, during, and after their referral to see a Paediatrician. Many families have children with complex and compounding diagnosis and every parent I spoke with had a similar story of exhaustion, grief, hopelessness, and fear. In my role as the Family Liaison, I was able to show them that I understood their experience, that everything they had experienced was normal and that they weren’t alone. Most importantly, I was able to point them in the direction of current education and resources that would suit their situations. They were able to begin mapping out their to-do list before they even saw the Paediatrician.
As the first year in my role as the Family Liaison at the CYAN Clinic neared its completion it became clearer that funding was becoming impossible to secure. There has been no public funding made available to run the clinic and both myself and Dr. Francis had been donating our time to keep the clinic open. As you may already be aware ADHD is virtually unfunded in the province of British Columbia. Although it is a neurodevelopmental disorder that impacts individuals across all social-emotional, physical, and academic domains, ADHD alone does not qualify our learners for extra funding or support at school under the current Ministry of Education guidelines. A diagnosis of ADHD will not qualify caregivers for any public funding sources for intervention tools, outside therapy, coaching, or support services. Desperate caregivers are paying out of pocket for services on top of taking time off work to attend meetings, appointments, and to frequently pick their child up from school when their child is expected to adapt to an environment that doesn’t work for them. The financial burden of raising a child with ADHD is reported to be 5 times higher than that of raising a neurotypical child , and yet there is no accessible funding for the most prevalent neurological condition in childhood. And as we at the CYAN Clinic have learned, there also appears to be no funding to keep accessible services open and available at no-cost to families. We must do better.
Multi-disciplinary paediatric teams that provide educational and emotional support services to families during the assessment and diagnosis process enable caregivers to create their own maps. Seeing a Paediatrician and receiving a diagnosis doesn’t mean the storm is over for families, but care from a Paediatric Clinic absolutely should be a lighthouse in that storm. Wrap around services that support caregivers at the time when their child receives a diagnosis enable caregivers to continue to be the lifeboat their children need while they ride the waves.
