Introduction
I’m not going to insult your intelligence by going into what ADHD is because I’m guessing you already know if you are here. There’s also the issue that ADHD manifests in everyone who is neurodivergent, in a very individual way. We don’t have time to cover it all in one post.
Whilst ADHD is usually diagnosed in childhood, it is now agreed that it can persist into adulthood, and I think there are increasing numbers of women of a certain age, just like me, who stood no chance of being diagnosed when we were younger because teachers and parents simply weren’t looking for it, (I was just considered a little ‘odd’) and as girls we tended not to fit the classic ADHD presentation at the time, which was one of general naughtiness.
It wasn’t until younger generations in our family began to be diagnosed, and a familial link was suggested, that the possibility of having ADHD was opened up for me. And that’s what has brought me to this point, writing about ADHD, having been diagnosed in my 60s, and dealing with the grief of what feels like a wasted life whilst also trying to understand the condition and how I can learn to lean into it, thrive and stop accumulating regrets.
Childhood and Early Adulthood
At school I was ‘bright’; always very quick to learn and very attracted to the novelty of new subjects, ideas, books and situations. Having said that, there were certain subjects and activities that sparked something in my young and very different brain that drew me in. Reading became a place of safety for me. It was difficult for me to make friends. (It didn’t help being ginger - believe me when I say kids can be very unkind!) Even as a child I knew I was different and blamed myself for not being ‘good enough’ for anyone to befriend me, so I retreated into fiction. I would become so immersed in the current reading book that my mother and brothers would joke and tease me to try to bring me back into the ‘real world’.
I grasped things very quickly, learned to read at a very young age, got the gist of what was being taught and moved on to the next thing. I think in today’s way of speaking I would ‘go wide but not deep’.
Growing up in a very working class and impoverished geographic area, I was an anomaly. To begin with, I loved junior school and couldn’t wait to go. The teachers loved me because I was interested in learning and I thrived under their instruction.
I passed my 11+. At that time, I was the only girl who attended that particular school to ever pass the 11+. (Let me tell you, it doesn’t make the least popular girl in the school any more popular to be the ‘swot’ or the ‘teacher’s pet’ and then go to the grammar school.)
My absent father pitched up in his large motor car, money no object, to buy me everything on the new school’s uniform list. (I’m not sure what my mother thought about that - relief tinged with bitterness perhaps?) Apart from late visits on Christmas Eve with unsuitable Christmas gifts, and a visit at some date close to our birthdays, our father had been absent from our lives since we were very young. We were actually better for him being gone, I can see that now. He was a heavy drinker with a foul temper and one of my earliest memories is of him trying to steal my mother’s sewing machine, to sell. During the ensuing tussle, he ‘poosed her down the stairs and the polis came’, according to my little school exercise book, in which we had to record our news every morning. His revenge on my mother, for her divorcing him, was to never give her any maintenance or child support money. I don’t know how she managed.
Anyway, he turned up to take credit for having a clever daughter, despite having nothing to do with us for years. He made a big show of buying everything on the massive uniform list (I had never owned so many clothes and shoes) and then disappeared again. We discovered 3 weeks later that his cheque had bounced…
I shuffled off to the grammar school, with absolutely no idea how hard I was going to find it.
The first thing I discovered was that I had no idea how to study, really study, and learn. I struggled to sit still for the longer-than-I -was-used-to lesson periods. Socially, I was completely outclassed; the only girl in the class (and possibly in the whole school) who lived in a council house and qualified for free school meals. I even tried to make friends with the girl who smelled less than fragrant, convinced she must come from a poor background, but she didn’t, it was just that her mother didn’t worry about cleanliness.
I went from being the proverbial big fish in the little pond to the smallest piece of plankton in the largest ocean.
And it was whilst I was at the grammar school that I learned to lie (it took me a while to own that word, writing here. I tried lots of synonyms but the bald fact is that I became a little liar). So desperate to ‘fit in’ I would make up stories about my parents, our make-believe home, our holidays and weekend adventures. I have absolutely no doubt that I wasn’t very good at it and trying to keep up with these fantasies took its toll on me. It’s exhausting trying to be something you are not, day in, day out. I was desperate to belong, even though I didn’t like or understand the group of girls I so wanted to be accepted by! Go figure.
Somehow, I scraped through my 5 years at the best state school for miles around, leaving with a bright green certificate that listed my O levels - and I suspect the school were as relieved to see the back of me as I was to walk through that gate for the last time.
I do now wonder how different life might have been if I and those around me had known about the ADHD and recognised the struggle. I know there are no do-overs, so it makes little sense to dwell on those early years, but I’ve found it helpful to read the stories of others diagnosed in later life. There’s something heartening about being able to say ‘you too?’
Being a Grown Up
Everyone has their stories and I feel embarrassed to share mine. Shame is a heavy burden. I think the TLDR version is that I have never ‘lived up to my potential’, to use the headmistress’s comments on my final school report.
I have loved all the people who didn’t love me back and not known what to do with the love expressed by those who could.
I have always been full of ideas and plans and brilliant at coming up with solutions to problems…but that’s as far as it has gone. Things have rarely been implemented and brought to completion.
Even those moments that might be considered ‘happy’, were overshadowed by the discomfort of bending myself out of shape to fit in and please others.
I hope the cathartic effect of sharing all of this means I will find the courage and strength to keep writing other, hopefully more helpful, articles. But for now I think it is enough to say I have a lifetime of regrets - broken promises, lost opportunities, fractured relationships, overthinking, irritability and temper, disorganisation, stress, mess, simply not understanding myself, feeling broken… It feels as if I have lived my life in a pinball machine and the only way respite has been possible has been to ‘check-out’.
But, to provide the balanced view, I have also been able to do some amazing things. I have the CV of 3 ‘normal’ people and it surprises even me, when I look at it. It’s much easier to focus on the struggles behind the façade, and the bad stuff, than acknowledge the good. I for one, need to do more of the latter.
Seeking a Diagnosis
I approached my GP for help, when I was in my 50s as I had done my own research, having been alerted by the familial connection, and thought there was a possibility of ADHD. He was dismissive, prescribed anti-depressants and told me it was a waste of time getting a diagnosis at my age.
In fairness to him, I did take one of the pills - it knocked me out for almost 24 hours and I haven’t taken any since.
At that time I wasn’t in a position to pursue a private consultation with a suitably qualified psychiatrist, so for a while I lived as-if I had been diagnosed, and tried to lighten up on myself a little. That was an interesting few years and it really did help simply to view myself as being neurodivergent and coming up with systems and ways of showing up that helped. (I’ll talk about these in another post here).
I noticed an increase in the general level of discussion about the levels of ADHD diagnosis and was convinced this was something I wanted to talk about; I felt I had something to offer to the world. (My amazing writing mentor talks about reaching the people for whom your words can be medicine.) But, my ever-present imposter syndrome, being fully justified in this instance, prevented me from raising my head above the parapet as I didn’t have a formal diagnosis. This is why I decided to pay for an assessment with a consultant psychiatrist, who is employed by the NHS but also works for one of the many privately run assessment services that have now proliferated. (I wanted to be sure I was paying to see a ‘proper doctor’!)
Others that knew me in childhood and adulthood were asked to contribute to the assessment process and I met with the psychiatrist having completed several questionnaires. I left with a diagnosis of combined ADHD with underlying depression, anxiety and emotional dysregulation.
The ADHD diagnosis was a relief. I had a report to ward off any feelings of imposter syndrome, but I didn’t know what to do with the other ‘labels’ and, in all honesty, they remain points for future consideration. Most important, I now felt I had ‘permission’ to write.
Coping and Moving Forward
I am extraordinarily fortunate to have a good job that I love, where I feel I can make a positive contribution, that stretches me on an intellectual level and provides a huge amount of variety. I am able to work from home and can take advantage of the times when I am most mentally alive - I am not restricted to the more regular 9-5. I don’t take this for granted and I know how fortunate I am.
Here, I am fulfilling a lifelong ambition to write, by finishing this post AND, more importantly, hitting publish. It may not be the best post I could write, but I need to get it out there or I’ll spend another 12 months editing it. (The first draft has languished on Substack since Feb 2023).
At the moment I am choosing not to go down the ADHD medication route. That may change. I have never taken drugs, only ever been a light social drinker (now happily teetotal) and even avoid paracetamol unless the back twinges from gardening are really bad! Pharmaceuticals worry me, and I have enough to worry about right now. This doesn’t mean anything for anyone else. We all have our own stories and ways of dealing with things. If you are neurodivergent and take meds and they help, I for one am cheering you on and admire you for giving it a go.
ADHD in Women (for those that aren’t aware)
There are differences in the way ADHD shows up in boys and girls; women and men. This is short list constructed with the help of AI (in the interests of being open and honest about the source):
* Girls with ADHD tend to have more inattention symptoms, while boys with ADHD tend to exhibit more hyperactivity/impulsivity symptoms.
* Girls with ADHD may be more likely to internalize their symptoms and exhibit behaviours such as daydreaming or being withdrawn, while boys may externalize their symptoms with behaviours such as fidgeting and interrupting others.
* Girls with ADHD may be more prone to anxiety and depression compared to boys with ADHD.
* Girls with ADHD may be diagnosed later in life compared to boys, because their symptoms may be less noticeable or mistaken for other conditions.
Why am I choosing to write about ADHD?
I feel the need to share my story because I think there are a lot of us out there, struggling, and I don’t underestimate how fortunate I have been to be able to access help privately. I am painfully aware that is simply not a possibility for many people, women in particular. I hope that my sharing a little bit about my struggles and how I have learned to cope will open up the possibility for us to connect and provide you with validation and a sense of being understood. Don’t just think you are getting older, are menopausal or even showing signs of dementia (all fears that haunted me before my diagnosis). ADHD is a real thing in women of a certain age.
If, by sharing my own daily struggles and solutions I can help anybody else to break the shame-cycle that just breeds self-loathing and pitifully low self-esteem, it will all be worthwhile.
I hope, if any of this is of interest, that you’ll come along for the ride. It will be good to have company as I continue to pick my way through everything that comes with neurodivergency.
Disclaimer - my intention in writing is to share experiences and not in any way to offer medical or legal advice - I am not qualified to do either. Please consult with your own doctor if you have any concerns about your own health or wellness.
You did it! You hit publish on a post you’ve been working on for over a year - and it’s landed so beautifully. 🙏
Your writing is beautiful, Etta. Thank you for sharing so honestly.