My own ADHD diagnosis - and how it made me feel

The accidental GP conversation

I'd suspected I had ADHD for a while. It started when my son was diagnosed and I began realy learning about the condition… that and the fact that my husband and various friends had been telling me for years. But I’d never seriously considered getting assessed - the NHS waiting times were up to three years and I kept thinking, what's the point?

Then one day I was on the phone to my GP about something completely unrelated, and as an almost throwaway at the end of the call, I asked what she thought - should I take it any further?

She said without hesitation: Yes. Absolutely. I think you should.

She told me about Right to Choose, and to cut a long story short, I was referred to ADHD-360. I completed all the forms and online assessments, was told waiting times were up to ten months, so I put it to the back of my mind, and carried on with my learning.

That was at the end of January.

The email I wasn't expecting

Imagine my shock when, just a few weeks later, I received an email saying they were ready for my assessment. I went online and booked for the following day. It felt rushed, but it was the only appointment I could make for the next three weeks - and I wanted to strike while the iron was hot.

What followed was twenty-four hours of pure anxiety.

What if I don't have it? What would that say about me - that I really am broken, a fraud, too much, too sensitive?

The imposter syndrome crept in fast. My anxiety went through the roof. My whole identity felt like it was in question.

The assessment that unlocked my childhood

The assessment itself was straightforward. What I hadn't prepared for was how many questions there would be about my childhood - and how much it would bring up.

Memories of constants tellings off for shouting out without putting my hand up, speaking out of turn and interrupting. I remember one teacher publicly shaming me for being "attention seeking" and "a show off" because I couldn't contain myself. All the endless school reports that said the same thing: "Good when she tries, but unfortunately that's never enough" and "Could do so much better if only she tried harder."

So much of my childhood had been locked away in my memory because I was dismissed as a naughty, chaotic, unruly, chatterbox. The assessment brought up so many uncomfortable feelings - the hatred of being made to stand up in front of everyone while being told off, and the constant unkindness of teachers who didn't like me because of how I behaved. I carried those feelings of self-loathing well into adulthood.

And they showed up everywhere - especially at work. The persistent belief that each next job would be different, that I would really make something of myself. It wasn't for lack of trying. I had SO many ideas but somehow never managed to complete any of them, and I never knew why. I've started seven companies in my lifetime and been 100% passionate and committed to each and every one… until I wasn't.

The result

About ninety minutes into the two-hour assessment, the clinician told me: I definitely have ADHD. She showed me my QbCheck results - I scored 96. (Scores in the 90s are often associated with marked, severe, or "off the charts" results, typically used to confirm a diagnosis in combination with clinical interviews)

A wave of relief hit me. Followed by a sensation of sadness. Suddenly I was the little girl being told off repeatedly for shouting out, interrupting, and not being able to sit quietly. It all came flooding back.

The emotion I didn't expect - anger

I sat with my diagnosis for almost a week, and in that time I experienced a multitude of emotions. Perhaps the one that surprised me most was anger.

I remember being told many times by my parents that my behaviour as a very young girl was off the scale. I would scream for no apparent reason and have huge tantrums at seemingly mild triggers. So much so that they told me the family doctor had thought I was autistic - bearing in mind this was the early 1970s, and in those days autistic children were put into homes.

However, eventually I started to speak, and although my behaviour was still challenging, the "experts" (whoever they were) told my parents I was just highly intelligent.

Needless to say - from that moment, I became a disappointment. I've learned to live with that. But now I'm angry. Angry that I was even assessed as a child, and still it was missed.

The people I told - and the people I didn't

I didn't rush to shout it from the rooftops. I told a couple of friends who were not at all surprised. But strangely, I didn't tell my siblings.

I'm not entirely sure why, but I think deep down there's still a part of me afraid of "being a show off" or being accused of trying to be the centre of attention. All of those labels now seem so unfair - because what I've learned about ADHD is that I couldn't help it. Instead, I've lived with shame as a core attribute. Shame for being too loud, too crazy, and as I've said before, "too much."

Shame and guilt have been cornerstone to many of the big decisions in my life. And now that I finally understand why - I am pissed.

The strange thing that happened next

One thing I've definitely noticed is that my symptoms seem to have amplified since my diagnosis. The judgemental sceptic in me wonders whether I'm doing it deliberately. Or is it just that I'm more aware? That the masks are finally coming down?

Whatever it is, I've been forgetting things, leaving things behind, and losing them even more than normal - and the bar for that was already quite low. I've left the house twice this week without my phone. In this day and age that's impressively hard to do - and completely disabling when your phone is also your wallet.

From various social media accounts for late-diagnosed women, this is apparently quite normal and should settle down soon. I'll keep you posted - if I remember.

The medication question

The next big question was medication. I've written a lot about this already, so I won't repeat myself here. But the voice in my head was loud: "You've been fine till now" and "Are you sure you really need it?"

I decided I had nothing to lose and potentially a lot to gain - so why not. It may or may not suit me, but if I don't try then I won't know. And if all it does is quieten the constant noise in my head that tells me I am not worthy, then that would be a win. Everything else would be a bonus.

I'm only five days in and started on such a low dose that it isn't making a difference yet. I can increase the dose next week, so the jury is still out.

Why this diagnosis changed more than I expected

I didn't think I needed a diagnosis because it wouldn't change anything. But actually, it has changed my perspective more than I thought possible.

I am now even more passionate than ever about helping people make sense of their neurodivergent brains and get the most out of their lives - so that they won't reach the age of 55 and look back thinking "if only" and "what if."

Don't get me wrong - I have a great life, a wonderful family, home and am surrounded by love (and animals). My journey, painful as it has been at times, has made me who I am and brought me to this point. But it could have been easier. And that's what drives me now.

I don't want the next generation to spend decades carrying shame for something they can't help. I want them to understand their brains, channel their strengths, and know - really know - that they are not too much. They are exactly enough.

Because when ADHD is understood, it really can be a superpower. I just wish someone had told me that sooner.