I did not  think I could have ADHD.

Not because I didn't fit the "type", but because I wasn't the loud-bouncing-off-the-walls "type". Like many women, my hyperactivity lived on the inside - racing thoughts, a brain that never switches off, forty tabs open at once, and an attention span that vanishes the second something else catches my eye. Completely disorganised on the outside, chronically exhausted on the inside.

I spent 38 years wondering why everyone else seemed to just get how life worked, and I was the only one who the life advice and systems didn't work for.

It was my son’s diagnosis in February this year that cracked everything open. Watching him - impulsive, creative, messy, severely emotional & very internalised but wrapped in noise - I saw a mirror image of myself. Suddenly, the late nights procrastinating to go to bed, the forgotten appointments, turning up to exams on the wrong days, unfinished projects, the endless overthinking, wearing our hearts on our sleeve, rejection spirals, and emotional roller coasters made sense.

And we're actually not too much  (although we definitely are for most neurotypical people). We're just wired differently. But the world isn't built for minorities.

The first few weeks after our diagnosis were a blur of hyperfocus and research. I devoured articles, podcasts, and lived experiences about ADHD in women, especially those diagnosed later in life. For the first time - I felt seen, and most importantly, I felt I wasn't alone.

What I had been calling burnout wasn't simple burnout. It was ADHD - the kind that hides under perfectionism and people pleasing. The kind that looks like "doing fine but nothing special" from the outside, but feels like drowning on the inside.

Getting my own diagnosis was confronting and freeing at the same time. Confronting, because it meant 38 years of life had been so hard, but didn't necessarily have to be. Freeing, because it gave me a name for the chaos. A reason why my brain sprints through ideas at lightning speed, then forgets where I put the coffee I reheated 7 times (that is, in fact, still IN said microwave). It's finding out that you're not just a "bad horse", you're actually  a zebra who's been running with the wrong herd.

Medication has helped a little - not a magic fix for sure, more like walking through a waterfall to the clarity of the other side. Vyvanse is part of the story, but not the whole story. I'll share more about that in a future post.

Here is the part I want to be honest about. A diagnosis didn't fix my life overnight. It's been 38 years of living one way - I now have to rewire to this new way of looking at my life. I'm always learning. And always trying. 

I'm learning to think of it as a pattern, rather than a flaw.
Learning to pause before reacting (this one is H.A.R.D.)
Learning to set boundaries and say no, without the heaviness of living up to other people's expectations.
Learning to ask for what I need, rather than fearing to be a burden.
And learning how to build my daily life around how my brain actually works - not a mould most people seem to slip into with ease.

None of it feels natural yet, I'm not sure that it ever will. But every day I understand myself (and my little boy) a little more. And I will forever be in a state of continuous personal evolution.

October is ADHD Awareness Month and Mental Health Month in Australia - so I'm going to share more of this. The real stuff. The messy middle. Because I believe in healing loudly, so others' don't have to suffer quietly.

If your brain runs a marathon while everyone else strolls, you'll want to stick around. This is not about labels or pity - it's about understanding, and learning to work with  our neurology instead of constantly trying (and failing) to fight it.

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And because timing is wild, today I'm also launching something special with Confetti Rebels. Add us on socials & check-in tonight to enter our giveaway 🍫🥳👯

NB: I'd like to thank and acknowledge Diann Wingert and her podcast ADHD-ish for enlightening me with tools for acceptance, growth and practical ADHD support. If you’ve listened to me talk about my ADHD, and thought “wow she makes sense to me, I finally feel understood” - it is likely her content that these paraphrased quotes have come from - she just makes me make sense.