Thoughts on - ADHD is not my superpower
On challenging unhelpful narratives
In February, I was diagnosed with combined ADHD after more than three years on an NHS waiting list.
It wasn't a surprise.
I once filled in a questionnaire for a relative who had been referred for a diagnosis and it was like holding a mirror up to myself. A thread of neurodiversity runs through our family tree and I’ve always had an underlying niggle of never quite belonging in society.
Last week I spotted a post created by a popular blogger (influencer? former blogger?) which irked me. The Instagram post in question featured ‘humourous’ prose framed as a “personal love letter to the parking fine currently sat on her passenger seat.”
Titled, ‘Wait, Have I Got ADHD?’, she spoke about buying clothes as a spontaneous little treat, redecorating her home on a whim and forgetting to pay a parking ticket, in an attempt to illustrate her speculative thoughts on what it might be like to live with the disorder.
A handful of her 100k followers challenged the tone, suggesting that it played into the stereotypical ‘ADHD makes me so scatty, what a silly goose I am’ trope. The (undiagnosed) blogger retorted that “all neurodivergent conditions have different levels of severity” and impact people's lives in a manner of ways, which is fair.
She also defended it by pointing out that ADHD is “incredibly undiagnosed” in older women and that she was simply attempting to highlight the issue.
What made it especially frustrating for me is that this person is training to be a doctor.
To see a future medical professional seemingly trivialise such a debilitating issue and adding to the unhelpful narrative already being peddled online while I'm trying to work through my own complicated post-diagnosis feelings left me deflated.
This is not a pile on. We’ve all shared things we regret and she’s absolutely not alone in her narrative, but for me, it reinforced the fact that neurodiversity is still clearly so misunderstood, despite awareness rising significantly in recent years.
The post was swiftly deleted but has been lingering in my thoughts all weekend.
After my diagnosis, I dutifully sat through four online group sessions with an NHS psychologist in an attempt to understand how my brain works and my life as I knew it felt like it was unraveling after each one.
I appreciate that the author of the Instagram post did not intend to cause any harm.
But what it did do is remind me of all the barbed, offhand quips I'd heard from strangers in airports and workplaces about neurodivergent people ‘using it as an excuse’ to jump queues, commit crimes and exhibit ‘bad’ behaviour.
The first time I heard the words, “ADHD is your superpower” was when a kind consultant said it to me after carrying out the gruelling and deeply personal assessment.
We had spent hours trawling through my past, my medical history, my ‘blatant risk seeking behaviour’ as a teenager and young adult (his words) and the coping mechanisms I’d developed without realising before he gently told me the outcome.
I openly cried as he explained what it meant, alongside the traits of autism he said were clear but “not quite enough to pursue a formal diagnosis”. I felt more vulnerable that I ever had before, like my deepest feelings, traumas and core identity had been turned inside out and left in an unrecognisable pile on the floor in front of me.
I had been misdiagnosed with depression and anxiety in the past, which I now know is a fairly typical experience for neurodiverse people.
It turns out that I learned early on how to mask, using every ounce of energy to cover up my neurodivergent traits and desperately convince my peers that I was ‘one of them’. I am high functioning (I hate this term but it’s true), which enables me to undertake ‘normal’ day to day tasks, but at a huge personal cost to my health and relationships.
I go through periods of inevitable burn out every six to nine months without fail, which are usually thinly-masked by physical symptoms. I usually know it’s coming but always feel powerless to stop it. My mood darkens. Fatigue kicks in and my emotions become uncontrollable. I wake up one day and find I am unable to complete the most basic of tasks as my body and mind refuse to keep up the charade for a second longer.
My entire life is propped up by lists and calendars and meticulous planning in advance. I have a daily ‘to do’ list for personal tasks, such as making lunch, exercising, setting alarms and responding to messages. I have a work board to help me prioritise stories, split into daily, weekly and monthly tasks. I have physical and digital calendars and cork boards filled with appointments and reminders.
Even something as ‘simple’ as driving can quickly become overwhelming. From waking up at 6am, sitting in traffic and arriving in the office a few hours later, my mind has already been overloaded by the sensory changes, noises and reactive decision making.
I often forget to eat, resulting in binge eating and have ongoing issues with the texture of some foods. My home is my safe space. Our living room doesn't even have overhead lighting as I find them so overstimulating. I can wear clothes which don’t make me feel like I want to rip my skin off. It is a clutter-free place of quiet solitude where I can reset and calm my mind when the outside world becomes overwhelming.
I perpetually feel like a sh**ty friend and relative as my brain takes the phrase, ‘out of sight, out of mind’ literally. It is constantly chattering in the background with a thousand different narratives, my sleep hygiene in the bin and I have to focus intently during face to face conversations to make sure I don't slip into maladaptive daydreaming.
During my assessment, the consultant asked me if I often lose things. I proudly declared that thanks to my excellent organisation routine, this is not an issue for me. I did forget to mention that I do, in fact, misplace things on a daily basis which is highly frustrating. I often have four glasses of water and seven lip balms on the go at any given time, have found my headphones in the fridge more than once and I suspect that my favourite earrings have been accidentally abandoned in a coat or dressing gown pocket.
It’s not all bad though.
I have finally found an industry I love after years of never quite settling in one place. I used to get bored quickly when working on projects for more than a week at a time and being stuck in the office. I have learned how to hone my skills to my advantage. Hyper-focusing means I can knuckle down for an hour or two, produce a decent story then move on to the next one with ease, and I will always put 100 per cent effort into any task I am given.
Despite facing real cognitive issues around math, when I was doing my journalism training I found that I was particularly good at reading data, largely thanks to my pattern recognition traits, but I do sometimes need half a day or so to really shape the story, which is a bit of a luxury in local newsrooms.
Speaking of pattern recognition, I genuinely spent a while as a teenager wondering if I was low-key psychic. It helps me ‘read’ people through tiny changes in their body language, tone and interactions, picking up on details that others often miss.
It also means that I’ve been able to sniff out p*sstakers pretty quickly, which doesn't always bode well for me when my overwhelming sense of justice keeps pecking away, but I am slowly learning to keep quiet on that front as most people don’t share my enthusiasm for fairness and abiding by the rules.
I have developed a top notch sense of humour (granted, it’s not really coming across in this post), making me hilarious in smaller social situations when I do find (read: can corner) like-minded people and has helped me form some solid, lifelong friendships.
In the right environments, I can thrive but calling it a superpower feels like the darker side is being glossed over and is patronising as f*ck. ADHD is a very real, debilitating issue that goes so far beyond forgetting keys, decorating your home on a whim or sharing ‘forgetful mishaps’ on TikTok. I’m now on another long waiting list for medication which I hope will help me maintain a better quality of life.
In June, a study revealed women with ADHD are significantly more likely to suffer from premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD), while other data shows that our life expectancy is reduced by an average of 8.6 years.
During the deeper bouts of burnout, I’m ashamed to admit that I have had disturbingly dark thoughts, when the idea of escaping for good seemed less exhausting than having to pick myself up and battle through it all over again.
ADHD feels like an anchor pulling me down, not a superpower to be grateful for.
I am lucky enough to be supported by understanding people who love me very much but I’m still not wholly comfortable with this ‘label’ and it’s hard not to see it as a personal failure.
It feels peppered with shame and stigma and I would give anything to have a brain that doesn’t function in this way.
When life is difficult, Samaritans are here – day or night, 365 days a year. You can call them for free on 116 123, email them at jo@samaritans.org, or visit samaritans.org to find your nearest branch.
Image: Canva