Title: Falling Through the Cracks: My Late ADHD Diagnosis and the Beautiful Chaos That Followed
For most of my life, I thought I was just a bit… shit at being human.
I could never quite work out why everyone else seemed to glide through life while I was perpetually tripping over my own enthusiasm. I was the classic “so much potential” kid who could never seem to get their act together. Teachers called me bright but easily distracted.Could do better written on every report. Friends called me eccentric or ditzy. Mum called me a butterfly brain. Employers never got to know me as I never managed to stay long enough. I knew I presented to the world as dippy, and it made me so fucking frustrated as I didn’t feel it; to me it was the rest of the world that was stupid and could do better!
It wasn’t until I was 59 years old that four little letters finally explained everything: ADHD. The revelation came when at a spa with my daughter. We were in a relaxation pool yet I was sitting up, picking at the pool tiles and jabbering away about everything and anything. It was my daughter that first used those 4 letters, gently asking me if I had ever thought of the possibility. Oh. Shit. Everything fell in to place. I filled in the initial questionnaire to see if I just maybe. I have never aced a test so highly in my life. The doctor took one look and put me straight in the system for an official assessment. When I went to my dad for him to fill in the questionnaire about my childhood he almost cried…with laughter! It was a big fat yes to all. “But it’s why I loved you so much,” he said, “You were wonderfully different”. It goes without saying that I got the official stamp on my forehead. ADHD as fuck, combined inattentive and hyperactive-impulsive.
Why didn’t anyone spot it before? When ADHD got woke about women.
A potted history, because anything longer is boring! But if you want a little hyperfocus time, do please go deeper.
Pre-1990s: ADHD largely seen as a boy’s, childhood-only problem.
1994: Gender difference conference held. Girls begin to register in research.
2000s: Significant studies show girls’ ADHD looks different; recognition of adult ADHD grows.
2013 (DSM-5): Diagnostics shift; ADHD in adults and non-classic presentations gain traction.
Now: We still have under-recognition of females, but the conversation is much more inclusive.
My Own “Aha” Moment
Looking back, the clues were everywhere. I never held down a steady career — not for lack of trying, but because I always seemed to burn bright, then burn out. I was constantly reinventing myself, leaping into new ideas, projects, or jobs with fiery excitement, only to feel suffocated by routine a few months later.
I felt like I was wired differently. Everyone else seemed to have a manual for life that I’d somehow missed. I was creative, passionate, and full of ideas — yet constantly losing my keys, forgetting appointments, interrupting conversations, blurting things out that I’d immediately regret. I was constantly told I was just, well, too much.
I wasn’t lazy. I wasn’t stupid. But I sure as hell felt it.
When I finally got diagnosed, it was like someone had turned the lights on in a room I’d been fumbling around in for decades. Everything suddenly made sense — every “failure,” every meltdown, every half-finished project and impulsive decision. It wasn’t lack of willpower. It was ADHD.
When you get diagnosed you look around with a massive ‘Oh Shit!’ as you see your family all fit the pattern too. This stuff is hereditary. I realised my mum had lived her whole life the same way — undiagnosed, misunderstood, and forever wondering why she couldn’t keep up.
The Cost of a Lifetime Undiagnosed
Living for nearly sixty years without understanding your own brain comes at a price. There’s the emotional toll — the shame, the self-blame, the never-ending cycle of “I’ll do better next time.” There’s the financial toll — impulsive spending (if I added it all up I would cry, tens of thousands in spending and poor decisions), job instability, and creative burnout. And then there’s the quiet grief of realising what could have been, if only you’d known sooner.
ADHD doesn’t just affect focus; it affects identity. It shapes how you see yourself and how you move through the world. Without understanding, you internalise society’s judgment until it becomes your own voice: “You’re flaky. You’re lazy. You’re not enough.”
But here’s the thing — you are enough. You always were. You were just playing life on hard mode without knowing it.
Art as My Unmasking
Since my diagnosis, art has become my way of unravelling and reclaiming all the parts of me I used to hide. I paint bold, unapologetic portraits of icons who refused to fit the mould — drag queens, rebels, and flamboyant misfits who lived loud and proud.
Every brushstroke is an act of unmasking. A declaration that I don’t fit in, and that’s my bloody superpower.
Through my work, I celebrate not only my own neurodivergence but everyone who has ever been told they’re “too much” or “not enough.” Because the truth is, society’s measures of success — productivity, perfection, punctuality — are boring as hell. Give me passion, curiosity, and glorious chaos any day.
Finding Power in Difference
Late diagnosis is a strange sort of rebirth. There’s grief for the years lost, but also gratitude for finally knowing who you are. You start rebuilding your life around your brain, not against it. You learn to forgive yourself for all the times you fell short of a system that was never designed for you in the first place.
I often think of my mum and all the other women who never got this understanding — who lived whole lives thinking they were somehow broken. I carry them with me in every painting, every bold colour, every defiant brushstroke.
We are not broken.
We are brilliant.
Just wired differently — gloriously, rebelliously differently.
Final Thoughts
If you’re a woman who’s always felt like the world doesn’t quite make sense — like you’re forever running uphill while everyone else is coasting — please know this: it’s not because you’re failing. It might just be because your brain is dancing to a different rhythm.
And that rhythm, once you stop fighting it, can create some bloody beautiful things.