This week in thoughts: different, but not 'less'-a diagnosis at 45.

On Monday morning at 11.17am, I was formally diagnosed ADHD. If you don’t know what ADHD is, here is a brief explanation taken from ADHDUK

“ADHD is a disorder that is defined through analysis of behaviour. People with ADHD show a persistent pattern of inattention and/or hyperactivity–impulsivity that interferes with day-to-day functioning and/or development.”

…and yet if you’d have asked me when I was 14…19…even 26; do you think you might be neurodivergent? I would have categorically said no.

Absolutely NOT.

In my mind, ADHD was something that only affected young boys who couldn’t still and annoyed their teachers. Little did I realise; ADHD is actually categorised into 2 types of behavioural problems: inattentiveness (difficulty concentrating and focusing) hyperactivity and impulsiveness-its effects can be devastating.

And yet even with this additional explanation, it still doesn’t quite grasp the length and breadth of what it means to be ‘neurodiverse’-this complex neurological disorder, which can have a chronic and long lasting impact on those who have it.

There is a lot of buzz around neurodivergence at the moment- possibly due to an increase in access to information (which I personally think is a really positive thing) and also because it is becoming abundantly clear that, not only have many individuals gone undiagnosed and are only now (in adulthood) discovering their symptomatology is inline with the ADHD/Autism criteria, but also, that there are far more people who are neurodivergent that we originally thought.

My understanding of these differences had been quite limited until now. I’d always felt this powerful and unwavering sense of being ‘different’ since childhood, and extending into adulthood. I had a very rich internal world (aka a brain that never, ever shut off and made focus and concentration challenging) but I had no idea that that could be a sign of ADHD. I just thought I had a busy brain- a ‘big thinker’.

When teachers commented that ‘my head was in the clouds’, and my dad called me a ‘scatter brain’, it isn’t surprising that it went unnoticed. I was a generally well behaved, and non-disruptive child (at least in primary school anyway) plus, it was the 80’s. Neurodiversity as an umbrella term wasn’t coined until the 1990’s, and historically, research on ADHD had been largely focused on boys and men (with female presentations often overlooked in clinical and research settings.) It is only very recent research that has quashed that theory.

As a teenager, I struggled with exams despite being bright and bookish. I could hyperfocus on the subjects I loved; I would draw for hours and wrote endless creative stories from a very young age, however exams, coursework and revision required a level of self-regulation and planning which I really struggled with. I found maths and science particularly onerous, mainly because I couldn’t process the information in a timely way but also because I found them boring- they didn’t give me that dopamine hit that creative subjects did so well. Ironically though, I love science now.

In 1996, I moved schools and my world started to unravel further. A-levels required even more self-motivation, organisation and time management and essentially, I couldn’t cope. I’d never been a ‘naughty girl’ but suddenly I was bunking off, answering teachers back and leaving all of my coursework until the very last minute. Even my beloved subjects were too much and I left with much lower grades than predicted. I also developed an eating disorder at this time, which exacerbated all of my symptoms and created many lifelong issues in its own right. I continued to carry this deep, and often painful, feeling of being different with me; and behaved in, often risky, ways I thought would help me fit in.

Looking back, I’m shocked at just how little support I received for my eating disorder in school. I know from memory that I disclosed it to a teacher but I can’t recall anything being properly, or fully explored. I’d like to think that if I was in school today my ED, plus other factors would have been further examined. But who knows. I had become skilled at internalising pain, and hid a lot of what was going from those around me.

I was already masking.

In university, things became even more pronounced. My focus, concentration and ability to even get to lectures dwindled quickly and other areas became problematic; including self-care and money management. I struggled with directions, simple instructions and verbal commands. I slept, binge ate and drank, bulimia a constant shadow. I felt deeply lonely too, despite being in a house share-as though I was ‘observing’ the person- that was me, in life, as opposed to actually living. This bright, young girl who had become something so distinct from who she might have been. My self-esteem was on the floor, as I continued to make poor choices for just about everything in my life; from relationships, to my studies, to my health and happiness.

On leaving uni, I continued to battle with everyday things. Life felt hard, and I, immature and in dire need of support, felt incapable of being in it much of the time. I began renting with a friend, but struggled with house keeping, paying bills and functioning in an adult world. I still had an eating disorder at this point too, which was causing severe distress and other health issues. I was hopping from job to job, with no real plan for my future; a career didn’t seem like something that would ever happen for me despite having ambition. I would start and stop things constantly, with no ability to commit to even the simplest of things. Putting thoughts into reality was physically impossible-I had (still do have) very little common sense, was impulsive, and reckless too.

One of my most embarrassing memories of my early twenties is getting my foot run over by a car- mainly because I wasn’t concentrating and walked straight out onto (a very busy) road, but also because I found (and still find) things like safety observation, signage and direction of traffic really tricky. I’ve never passed my driving test despite learning to drive half a dozen times, and spending hundreds and hundreds of pounds on lessons (as a side note, I always found not being able to drive really embarrassing, but now I have my diagnosis I am definitely feeling less shame- maybe because I know I am alone, and importantly, I understand that for me; it is hard. Maybe one day I will learn. I’ll pass my test and drive to the beach to celebrate. For now though, I am giving myself grace.)

At 24, I bought my first house with money my dad had left me in his will. It was probably one of the only ‘adult’ decisions I had made in my life. Living alone was a challenge, despite monkey branching from one relationship to the next. I wasn’t equipped to properly look after myself, and this manifested in many, often insidious ways.

Money was a constant battle, and I spent the majority of my early and mid- twenties in debt. I had maxed out overdrafts with 4 banks, unpaid credit cards and utility bills. I took out countless payday loans and was borrowing left, right and centre with no ability, either financially or practically, to pay them back. I had countless visits from bailiffs, set up two debt management plans (one of which my mum funded) and even had threats of court. I never opened letters, and still struggle with this today. I am triggered my mail and will do anything I can to avoid it. At the time, I was deeply anxious about my financial situation but stuck my head in the sand, trying to pretend everything was fine.

Despite earning ok money in one of my first decent-ish jobs, I had no idea how to budget and my impulsivity meant that I spent before I saved. If I hadn’t owned my house outright I dare to think what may have happened. It was a really dark time. For many adults with ADHD, financial difficulties stem from challenges in executive function, which can make impulse control, financial planning and budgeting money exceptionally challenging-I am no exception to this.

Around this time I had also started experimenting with drugs, and drinking more alcohol. This was a particularly turbulent time, not to mention dangerous and irresponsible. Drugs helped me to curate a false image of someone I thought I wanted to be, but also gave me ‘space’ from my cluttered thoughts and noisy brain. I could escape-being high made my mind feel freer and less chaotic. At this point I was also hyper obsessed with how I looked; dieting and weighing myself almost daily and spending all of my wages on clothes. Like many young people, I lived for the weekend, but for me it was all about role play-I could pretend to be anyone other than myself. I was growing more and more distant from the person I knew I really was, trying my hardest to separate myself from her. I wanted that person gone.

Substance misuse is common amongst ADHDers, and having my diagnosis is helping to me to rationalise why, I, an intelligent and creative woman, would’ve gone down that path. Drugs were a way for me to mask my ADHD traits, but ultimately, I ended up not knowing who I was.

“…The lifetime occurrence of substance use problems among adults in the general population is approximately 25 percent….in comparison, 50 percent of adults with ADHD have a history of dealing with substance use at some point in their lives…Many reasons account for addictions among adults with ADHD, however two general causes come up again and again. First, adults with ADHD are more likely to self-medicate, particularly so when they lack awareness or understanding of their ADHD biology and have not yet learned how to manage it well. Second, many adults with ADHD are drawn to thrill-seeking and novel experiences….” (attitudemag.com)

When I look back at the course of my life, it feels SO obvious that something bigger was at play, and yet I’d never even heard of ADHD back then, let alone understand it might be the reason I had struggled so much.

From the difficulty I had with relationships, to maintaining friendships, work/ a career, and my sense of self, ADHD has shaped who I am because it is a vital part of my being. I don’t agree with the notion that neurodiversity is non-defining of us- on the contrary I believe it is absolutely a fundamental and special part of who I am.

There is a wealth of information out there; including a surge in education via social media (not always trustworthy, but if you sift through there are creators doing amazing things to support the neurodiverse community) and yet it is theorised that in the UK alone, there are over 80% of people with ADHD who are undiagnosed. The idea that people are getting diagnoses easily and readily is patently incorrect, and crucially, women and girls, due to the socialisation of being ‘nice, polite and quiet’ are particularly vulnerable when it comes to being missed.

I am in a good place these days and am incredibly grateful for it because I know the trajectory of my life might have been so very different. Sadly, research shows that adults with ADHD are 5 times more likely to commit suicide, and are at an increased risk of poor mental health.

I’m lucky. I married an amazing man, who loves me unconditionally, and have been self employed, doing what I finally love and on my own terms for almost 2 years. I sought diagnosis because I was fed up of feeling like a failure, and wanted answers to a life that has, at times felt unbearable. I don’t want to struggle unnecessarily anymore. I want to feel ok in asking for help without the fear of shame or stigma attached.

I desperately want to reach my goals, and be the person I know I deserve to be-but for people like me, with ADHD, the playing field needs to be narrowed, otherwise it can be impossible.

A diagnosis has also given me access to medication, which I am excited to try. It is very early days yet but speaking with the psychiatrist on Monday helped me to feel seen, heard and moreover, validated.

When you go through life feeling that you are less than, the world can be a lonely place. For me a diagnosis is about understanding that I am different, but not ‘less’.

And the Doctor’s words, as we talked about my struggles and how easy, everyday things had continually floored me, will stick with me forever;

“These things feel hard because for you Nina- they are hard…”

(NB: I have combined type ADHD whereby I experience both inattentive and hyperactive traits. You can find an extensive list of symptoms here, however, severity ranges from person to person & everyone’s experience will be different.)

See you next week.

Nina x