"Wait... This Has a Name?" – Living With a Late ADHD Diagnosis

For most of my life, I thought I was just a bit unusual. I was the type of person who would pick up my guitar, play it for a month or two, and then forget about it when some new sparkly yarn showed up for a knitting project. My CV reads somewhat scattered. I was never a job-hopper, but after 14 years in the same job, I needed to try something new. I had itchy feet and a burnt-out brain. For the longest time, I was a scientist, but afterwards I worked as a therapist, hula hoop teacher, theatre usher, retail worker, and now, writer.

It turns out there’s a name for all of this: ADHD.

Everything Suddenly Made Sense

I was officially diagnosed at the start of 2025, aged 38 years young, although I had my suspicions for a few years. Living in a body that fidgets constantly, a brain that won’t shut up, and emotions that seem to come with the volume turned up to eleven: these were just some of the things that tipped me off. What I thought was me being ‘odd’ actually has a name. The number of times I wished I could be a robot; dealing with life might be so much easier. For me, getting my ADHD diagnosis was equal parts comforting and confusing. Comforting because certain things finally began to make sense. But also, confusing because... well, how had no one spotted this before?

From Bouncy to Bookworm: Masking ADHD

Growing up, I was apparently a bit of a “Tigger” child—bouncy and energetic.I would go running from one room to another, wanting to do “all the things”, and never staying still for very long. But around age six, I learned to sit down. It’s more socially acceptable for girls to be quiet and calm, so I became the girl who always had her nose in a book. I swapped bouncing for reading and got very good at disappearing into stories. Books didn’t ask me to sit still and focus. I could just lose myself in them. 

The Brain That Couldn’t Sit Still

But ADHD didn't actually go anywhere - it just changed shape. It became an inner restlessness, the need to be doing and thinking ten things at once. My attention span was (and still is) like a badly trained dog—occasionally brilliant, mostly disobedient, and constantly running off after squirrels.

Getting diagnosed changed everything, and also nothing. There was no magical fix. I’m still on a waitlist to try medication to see if it helps me. But at least I know that all my patterns and frustrating habits weren’t personal failings. They were neurological traits. I’m wired differently.

Embracing Creative Chaos

Nowadays, instead of berating myself up for not sticking to one particular hobby, I embrace my random creativity. One month I might be deep in yoga poses, the next I’m obsessively crocheting tiny monsters or cute animals. My brain thrives in bursts, so I’m trying to accept and work with that.

I still struggle with focus. Deadlines try to slip away from me. Caffeine from tea fuels me, maybe a little too much. But I’m learning to work with my brain, not against it.

Late diagnosis is more common than people think. The diagnosis doesn’t fix everything, but it does give me some insight.

I’m still figuring it out. Still fidgeting. Still waiting for meds. But I’m finally starting to understand myself in a way that feels kind, not critical.  

Disclaimer - This post is based on my personal experiences as someone living with ADHD. It is not intended as medical advice or a substitute for professional support. If you're struggling with your mental health or think you may have ADHD, please reach out to a qualified healthcare provider or mental health professional.