Sharing My ADHD Diagnosis and Navigating the Reactions
The moment the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, the realisation that ADHD might be the explanation for so many of my lifelong quirks, was less a moment of despair and more one of… liberation.
Finally! There was a potential reason why my brain felt like a perpetual pinball machine, why focus could be so elusive, and why I could start a dozen tasks without finishing a single one. This wasn't about finding an excuse; it was about finding an explanation. And honestly, I was quite excited to share this newfound understanding with the people closest to me.
Because I've never viewed ADHD as an illness – in fact, as you'll have gathered, I see many of its traits as superpowers – my approach to sharing my diagnosis was probably a little… unconventional. There was no solemn announcement, no tearful confession.
Instead, it tended to be delivered with a dash of humour and a large helping of my characteristic upbeat enthusiasm. It often sounded something like, "You know how I always [insert quirky ADHD trait here]?
Well, it turns out there's a reason for that! I've got ADHD!" My intention wasn't to elicit sympathy but to offer an explanation, a way to say, "Hey, I'm not deliberately being forgetful/distracted/all-over-the-place; this is just how my brain works." It was a way to gently push back against the internalised narrative of being "thick" or "stupid."
However, the reception wasn't always the celebratory parade I might have naively hoped for. While ADHD awareness has certainly grown, thanks in part to the openness on social media, there's still a significant segment of the population who view it with scepticism. Some see it as a trendy label, an easy excuse for perceived shortcomings.
Hearing this, especially from those I cared about deeply, was genuinely upsetting. It felt like they were dismissing my lifelong struggles, implying that I was somehow using this diagnosis as a convenient crutch to explain away aspects of my behaviour that they found… well, different. And let's face it, my way of navigating life does tend to be a little off the beaten track (more on that in a future chapter, as promised!).
This scepticism made me feel incredibly vulnerable, as if I were indeed trying to make excuses for the very fabric of who I am. It brought back those old feelings of inadequacy, the whispers of being "not quite right."
To counter this, I found myself sharing videos and articles about ADHD, hoping to offer a glimpse into my internal world, to illustrate the very real challenges I face with focus, organisation, and emotional regulation.
And, ever the people-pleaser, there was an underlying hope that by understanding the "why" behind some of my more… endearing (I hoped!) traits, those around me might not only understand me better but perhaps even like me a little more. It's a constant yearning for connection and acceptance.
The reality is, the naysayers may never fully grasp the nuances of living with ADHD unless they or someone they love experiences something similar. But perhaps, and this is a significant driving force behind this book, by putting my experiences down in black and white, I can offer a window into my world.
Maybe, through these pages, those closest to me, and even those who hold preconceived notions, can gain a deeper understanding of the daily realities of navigating life with an ADHD brain. It's a hope rooted in a desire for connection, for empathy, and for a little less of that gnawing feeling that I need to constantly explain – and justify – the way I am.
Blog
