Spicy Vanilla

For most of my life, I’ve considered myself to be a few different things. For reasons I can’t quite explain, I’ve always felt somewhat magical—though not in any specific way, just a sense that I was meant to do something big. Despite various moments that have crept in, for the most part, I’ve felt pretty vanilla, like I’ve had to change myself to fit in.

When I was diagnosed with ADHD in adulthood, it was like finally piecing together a puzzle that had been missing its final pieces. My life started to make more sense. But to be honest, I couldn’t understand how I could have a spicy brain but feel so vanilla at times that I felt I had to change myself. That was until recently.

I’d been researching ADHD in adults, particularly in women, for quite a while, and it was as though lightbulbs were going off left, right, and centre. It was like the shattering pop of flashbulbs, each one illuminating something new and eye-opening.

I read that many women with ADHD often mimic the people around them in an attempt to fit in. They suppress parts of themselves or alter their behaviours to match the expectations of others.

I can think of countless moments in my life when I’ve done this—acted or said things that weren’t true to myself. Here’s a few times I totally wasn’t myself…

I remember hanging out with a girl who was a bit older than me and spoke in a unique way. She was the epitome of cool, and within a couple of hours, I was mimicking her voice!

I had dreams of being a dancer or an actress, but that didn’t seem practical or cool, so around others, I’d say I wanted to be what everyone else thought was a ‘real job’: a marine biologist, a hairdresser, or an event planner.

When my Year 10 formal was approaching, a friend said she didn’t want to wear a dress, she wanted a women’s suit. Of course, I replied, ‘Me too, I want to wear a dress for the Year 10 formal and a suit for the Year 12 formal!’ No, I didn’t…

In my 20s, I was out with a group of girlfriends, and we were discussing tattoos. One girl said she wanted the same tattoo as Nicole Richie. And I chimed in, ‘Oh my god, me too!’ Even though I never wanted a tattoo.

I remember another conversation from 2007 about the contraceptive pill, where one girl said she never skipped her period because she thought it wasn’t healthy to ‘keep the blood up there.’ Naturally, I chimed in, agreeing with her disgust, even though I’d occasionally skipped my period (the nurse in me now would be disappointed in my lack of knowledge about periods and contraception).

Another time, some friends were talking about wanting breast enlargement surgery, and you guessed it, I joined in, saying, ‘Oh, so do I! Always have!’ when, in fact, I absolutely never wanted that.

Looking back, I wonder why I thought it was so wrong to be what I thought was ‘vanilla’. I didn’t want a tattoo, I didn’t want breast surgery, and I didn’t mind skipping a period now and then. Why did I feel the need to pretend to be something I wasn’t? Why do women with ADHD feel such a strong urge to change themselves to fit in? Now, don’t get me wrong, I know this doesn’t affect only women with ADHD, but it’s a fact that people with ‘spicy’ brains are more susceptible to this kind of behaviour.

This brings me to the idea of feeling "magical" as a child. And when I say magical, I don’t mean it in the Harry Potter sense (though I am still waiting for my Hogwarts letter). I mean that sense of being different—not in a bad way, but in a way that feels unique, special, or even extraordinary. Growing up, I often felt like a dreamer, someone who was always a little out of step with others. I didn’t quite fit into any one group of friends and bounced between different circles, never fully belonging, but always carrying that little bit of sparkle.

I was often behind in trends and fashions, a little bit weird, and immature compared to others my age, but at the same time, I had a level of maturity that seemed unusual for my peers. I often felt like I hadn’t fully blossomed into who I was meant to be, even though there was this underlying sense that I was meant to do something big.

And this feeling of being different—of having that little extra something—came from my ADHD brain. It's a brain that is intensely creative, curious, and often bursting with ideas. It’s the kind of mind that feels like it’s meant to change the world, even if it doesn’t always fit into conventional expectations. There’s this sense of untapped potential, a belief that my difference—though sometimes hard to explain—could be something remarkable.

But even with this sense of magic, the struggle to fit in remained, because it’s hard to embrace who you are when you’re not sure how to explain it to others. ADHD means constantly navigating between the excitement of new ideas, feeling overwhelmed by the world around you, and trying to make sense of the unique way your brain works. For me, this was part of what made me feel like I was magical—like I had this inner fire that the world couldn’t always understand, but that was still something to be celebrated.

One question I often ask myself is, what did I sacrifice in order to fit in?

Growing up, I loved what I loved. I didn’t follow trends or what was seen as ‘cool.’ I loved ballet, I was emotional and sensitive, I loved Disney (still do), I loved Harry Potter (really, really still do!). I liked the girly things that most of my friends had long since outgrown. I remember one particular school camp in Year 6, when we were all getting into our pyjamas. Most girls wore singlets and boxer shorts, and while I had those at home, thanks to my always-on-trend mum, I decided to pack a pink nightie with frills and fairies on it. The embarrassment hit me like a tonne of bricks when I saw everyone else’s ‘cool’ pyjamas, and I quickly tried to cover up by saying that someone must have swapped my boxers for the nightie. But why? That was exactly what I wanted to wear. No one commented, no one made fun of me. So, why lie about it?

Of course, I loved plenty of the same things as other kids, but there were still parts of me that felt vastly different.

So, once again, what did I sacrifice to fit in? Looking back, thankfully, nothing that would have dramatically changed where I am today but tiny parts of me that shouldn’t have been hidden away. There may have been moments where I wasn’t fully true to myself, but in hindsight, they were insignificant. I feel now is a good time to thank the close friends who’ve stood by me, who’ve let me be me—strange quirks and all—and who understood me when I probably didn’t even understand myself. I was never the teenager who wanted to go to parties or drink underage. I was incredibly lucky to have friends who were on the same wavelength. (Side note: My parents would never have let me, even if I had wanted to!)

I’d like to take a moment to thank one friend in particular: my longest friend, my best friend, my soul friend—Jess. We’ve been best friends since we were 11 years old, and since then, she’s always accepted me for who I am. For 24 years, she’s embraced both the vanilla and spicy sides of me, and has helped shape me into the woman I am today.

Looking back, it’s clear to me now that being “magical” and “vanilla” weren’t opposing sides of me, but rather two parts of the same whole. I had to navigate both to find who I really am. ADHD has shaped how I see the world, how I move through it, and how I interact with the people in my life. It’s a journey of embracing my quirks, the things that make me stand out, and the things that make me feel ‘normal.’ It’s a delicate dance between feeling different and learning to be comfortable in my own skin, and finally realising that there is strength in both parts of who I am. So here’s to the magic in all of us—the messy, unique, sometimes confusing, but always remarkable magic that shapes who we’re meant to be, a little spicy vanilla.