Diagnosed at Last… But Honestly, I Already Knew!

It turns out I have ADHD.

I was always the daydreamer, away with the fairies. Clumsy too, and forgetful. I lost count of the number of keys I misplaced growing up. My mum used to joke I’d lose my own head if it wasn’t screwed on. I could never remember what I’d gone upstairs for, but I could spend hours doodling in the margins of my schoolbooks.

At school I did well, but it was always last minute. I needed the pressure of a looming deadline to get anything done. Not because I didn’t care, far from it, but because my brain just wouldn’t get going without that sense of panic. Every essay, every assignment, every bit of coursework… done the night before. Dissertations included. Every. Single. One.

And the thing is, that’s never really changed. I now work as a SENCO across a small group of primary schools, juggling a hundred different things, and somehow managing to stay (mostly) afloat. But the behind-the-scenes version? That's a bit different. I’m still disorganised. Still battling to keep on top of everything. I live in a swirl of half-finished thoughts, tabs left open (literally and mentally), and a permanent to-do list I keep re-writing because I forget where I put the last one.

So when I was recently diagnosed with ADHD, it didn’t come as a shock. Not to me, and not to those who know me best. It was more of a confirmation, a gentle, almost comforting “Aha… so that’s why.”

I wish I’d known sooner. I think I might have been kinder to myself. Instead of thinking I was lazy, or flaky, or just “bad at life,” I might’ve understood that my brain is wired differently. Not broken. Just… different. It’s exhausting sometimes, the way I need pressure to function, the masking I do daily so people don’t see the chaos buzzing around in my head. On the outside, I look like I’ve got it together. Inside, it’s a very different story.

I find peace in my dog walks. Just me and my gorgeous labrador, no deadlines, no lists, no noise. I find passion in my work with neurodiverse children because I see them. I am them. And I want them to grow up understanding what I didn’t: That their brains aren’t faulty. They’re brilliant.

So yes, I still lose things. Still say “I’ll do it in a minute” and forget entirely. But now I know why. And that knowing? It’s powerful. It’s freeing. It’s the start of a much kinder story.

Could it be ADHD?

ADHD in adults often goes unnoticed, especially in women and people who mask well. It’s not just fidgeting or hyperactivity — it can look like:

Constant overwhelm
Trouble starting tasks (even ones you want to do)
Forgetfulness or losing things often
Racing thoughts or zoning out completely
Struggling with time, deadlines, and routines
Feeling like life is always “harder than it should be”

If that sounds familiar, you’re not alone, and you’re not broken.

What to do if it’s ringing bells:

Talk to your GP: Let them know what you're experiencing and how it affects daily life.
Keep notes or examples: Real-life patterns help paint the picture.
Read up: Books like ADHD 2.0 or You Mean I’m Not Lazy, Stupid or Crazy?! can be a good start.
Find your people: There are brilliant ADHD communities online (and offline) full of support, humour, and practical tips.

Getting clarity can be a turning point. It doesn’t change who you are — it just helps you understand yourself better. And that’s where self-kindness starts. 💜