For years, I thought I was just terrible at being a grown-up. I’d lose track of time, forget appointments, start a new hobby and abandon it a week later, double-book myself constantly, and always seem to be running just a bit behind. At first, I laughed it off. “That’s just me,” I’d say. “I’ve always been a bit scatty.”
But as the years rolled on, the scatteriness started feeling more like a weight. There was the emotional rollercoaster that came with trying to juggle everything. The guilt when things slipped through the cracks. The burnout from constantly trying to catch up with myself. And then there were the coping mechanisms I didn’t want to talk about—like impulsive eating, which I chalked up to stress, but was really just another piece of the puzzle.
The truth is, many adults live for years—decades, even—without realising they might have ADHD. Not the hyperactive child stereotype many of us grew up with, but the kind that flies under the radar. The forgetfulness, the overwhelm, the thousand tabs open in your brain. We weren’t diagnosed because nobody was looking for it in people like us. Especially not in girls.
Growing up in the 80s or 90s, unless you were visibly bouncing off the walls or getting into serious trouble at school, you were unlikely to be flagged for ADHD. Many of us masked it by becoming “chatty,” “creative,” “moody,” or “daydreamy.” We were the ones with messy bedrooms and cluttered bags, and big imaginations. Nobody thought to ask what was happening beneath the surface.
But now, as adults, it’s starting to make more sense. There are some signs that crop up again and again in undiagnosed adults: constant lateness, difficulty organising tasks, switching between interests at lightning speed, feeling emotionally overwhelmed over small things, and struggling to follow through even when something matters to us. It’s not laziness—it’s executive dysfunction. And it can be exhausting.
Getting a proper adhd diagnosis isn’t just about putting a label on things. For many people, it brings huge relief. Finally, there’s a name for the chaos. An explanation for the years of self-blame. With a diagnosis comes understanding—and options. Some people explore medication, others find therapy or coaching helpful, and for many, just knowing they’re not “bad at life” makes all the difference.
There’s still a stigma, and there are still gaps in the system. Waiting lists can be long, and it’s not always easy to advocate for yourself when you’ve spent years thinking your struggles were a personal failing. But support is out there, and starting the process doesn’t have to be overwhelming. Online assessments, GP referrals, and telehealth options can all be part of that first step.
I’m not saying a diagnosis will fix everything overnight. But it might give you a bit more compassion for yourself. It might help you understand why you operate the way you do—and that, in itself, can be life-changing.
If any of this feels familiar, it might be worth looking into. You’re not alone, and you’re not broken. You might just have ADHD. And knowing that could be the beginning of everything starting to make a little more sense.