Affirmation Over Grief
Before I dive into this post, I just want to say that I fully respect how each person experiences their ADHD diagnosis. Everyone's journey is unique, and the way we all process things is deeply personal. I’m sharing my own perspective here, which may not align with everyone else's—and that’s okay! My aim is not to diminish anyone else’s feelings but simply to offer my own thoughts and experiences, which I hope can add to the ongoing conversation around ADHD.
Like many women with a late diagnosis of ADHD, I’ve spent a lot of time reading articles, listening to podcasts, and watching videos. I’m so grateful that we live in a time where we can share our stories, connect with like-minded individuals, and access a wealth of research. That said, the nurse in me feels the need to stress the importance of consuming legitimate, evidence-based information! But overall, the ability to bond over shared experiences has been invaluable.
There have been moments when I’ve listened to someone’s story and felt an immediate sense of connection, but I’ve also had times when I’ve wondered: Am I missing something? Is there something (else ha!) wrong with me? Why don’t I feel the same way?
One thing that stands out when listening to others’ journeys is how many women grieve the life they could have had—the opportunities they feel were missed because of an undiagnosed ADHD. Personally, I’ve never felt that way. When I look back on my life, I see an amazing, adventurous life full of opportunities. Yes, now that I better understand my brain, I can see moments where things could have been easier if I had known earlier, but I don’t think an earlier diagnosis would have dramatically changed my life.
When I was diagnosed, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. I’d received the confirmation I’d long suspected. The diagnosis wasn’t an emotional upheaval for me; instead, it felt like the key to unlocking a deeper understanding of how my brain works. It was about gaining knowledge—information that would empower me to make adjustments, find tools to use, and move forward with more clarity. It was never about mourning what could have been—honestly, that never crossed my mind. This sense of affirmation was such a positive shift. It was the start of using this new understanding to make life a bit smoother, rather than feeling the weight of missed chances.
That said, hearing others describe their emotional responses after a diagnosis—especially the grieving process—has made me question: Should I feel like that?
I absolutely recognise that, in hindsight, many things in my life make more sense now. For example, I used to pride myself on being extremely efficient—I even boasted about it ha! But now I realise that I was probably just hyper-focused. I believed I was an amazing multitasker, but now I see that I was simply jumping from one task to another, unable to stay on one long enough to complete it properly. These realisations have been eye-opening, but they don’t make me wish I had known sooner. Simply understanding why things unfolded the way they did has been more affirming than anything else.
It’s also interesting that, while my diagnosis has, of course, impacted my life, it hasn’t been as world-altering as it seems to have been for others. It has changed things, but not in a dramatic, life-shifting way. I’ve come to see the diagnosis as an opportunity—not to suddenly make everything “perfect,” but to understand myself better and make small but meaningful adjustments. It gave me tools and insights that I now use to navigate daily life more effectively.
What I’ve noticed, however, is that many people seem to use their diagnosis as a way to excuse certain behaviours. I understand that ADHD can be challenging, and I believe it’s important to be kind to ourselves. But for me, the diagnosis has never been about giving myself permission to avoid responsibility. Sure, I run late to important things from time to time, but most of the time, I’m on time because I’ve given myself an absurd amount of time to get ready. I would never expect others to wait for me just because I have ADHD. The focus has always been about finding ways to work with my brain, to adapt, rather than using it as an excuse for things I know I can improve.
In the end, there’s no one-size-fits-all when it comes to ADHD. Some of us may feel relief, some may grieve what could have been, and some, might feel more affirmation and empowerment than anything else. As I mentioned at the beginning, please don’t misunderstand me—I’m not diminishing anyone else’s journey. I fully recognise that we all experience and process ADHD differently, and everyone’s emotions and reactions are completely valid.
But I do wonder if there are others out there who, like me, don’t feel that deep sense of grief after their diagnosis. Perhaps, for some of us, it’s more about acceptance and empowerment than loss and regret. What’s important is that we’re all allowed to experience our diagnoses in the way that feels right for us. What’s also important is that we don’t let our diagnosis be a reason to hold ourselves back. It’s not about using it as an excuse, but rather finding ways to adapt, grow, and embrace the strengths that come with our brains, spicy as they may be.
The way I see it… I’ve got the knowledge now, and that’s something powerful.