Aristotle said that knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom. My latest ‘ah-ha’ moment is a long-suspected ADHD diagnosis, made official this month. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, the median age for a mild ADHD diagnosis is 7. I’m 32.
I was hesitant to assign myself the label, since finding ADHD memes relatable is hardly a diagnosis, even when those memes feel like they were made with me in mind. Now that I’ve seen a specialist who confirmed my suspicions, the feeling of vindication is kind of exhilarating.
I’ve suspected I had ADHD for about 10 years
“When was the first time you suspected this?” the doctor asked.
Ten years ago, I was team-marking with other teachers, trapped for a full weekend with the task of grading hundreds of senior exams before the deadline. The other teachers were flying through essays, their red pens a blur.
I watched them for a bit, wondering how they were able to tune each other out. I graded two essays and then made some tea. I rewarded myself for finishing another essay with the slow removal of my jacket. Many buttons. Thrilling. And then one more essay, followed by a snack. The sound of my colleagues’ pens was distracting. The sound of the kettle boiling, even more so. Speaking of which…more tea? A bathroom break? I was bored senseless.
“How many have you done, Tayla?” I’d tackled four in the time the others had each graded 12. I told myself it was because the other teachers were more experienced.
I developed coping mechanisms long ago to mask symptoms
I shared the news of my diagnosis with a friend from school. “Seriously? But…you’re so productive?” she said, shocked. It was easy to slip through the cracks as a high achiever. ADHD diagnoses are often missed in girls — the ratio of boys to girls with ADHD is 3:1 in childhood, but in adulthood it’s much closer to 1:1. Apparently, girls with ADHD are more likely to make an effort to mask symptoms.
I got straight As in school (bar physical science, which felt like torture) and graduated from university magna cum laude. Along the way, I’d unknowingly been developing coping strategies, weaving them into my daily life. A major one was the subjects I chose.
In high school, I dropped two math classes in my final year; it wasn’t my strong suit. In university, excelling in psychology and English was easy — I loved both majors and would happily fixate on them for hours.
I’ve had a daily to-do list for decades. I voice note myself constantly. My calendar is so detailed that it looks encyclopedic. I schedule meetings and my toughest tasks during my most productive hours. I lock my phone away during work because I’ll scroll fruitlessly. And now I can see all of this for what it is: a plethora of coping mechanisms.
Even pursuing my writing career, I curated it around an ADHD diagnosis I didn’t yet have. I struggle to write on topics I don’t care about, so I built a roster of clients and publications in travel, a subject that obsesses me. Being self-employed has allowed me to tap into other interests, like coaching people in writing personal essays. I’ve always gravitated toward the form. After a quick Google, it turns out many associate oversharing with ADHD, too. Hmm.
I’m throwing myself into learning. I’m reading books about thriving with ADHD. I’m following relevant accounts on social media, knowing that I now belong in these communities. The best time to get this diagnosis was probably 25 years ago. But I have it now. I’m not convinced this is the “beginning of wisdom” as Aristotle says, but it’s the beginning of something. That’s good enough for now.
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