So, back to that Friday night when my daughter came round. We were looking through some photos for my 60th birthday party, which is just around the corner. While we were flicking through, I found some of my old school reports. Reading them was like a punch in the gut. I’d long suspected that I’d had struggles as a teenager, but seeing them in black and white really brought it home. It was a reminder of all the challenges I faced, the ones I never understood, and the ways I’d felt lost and misunderstood for years. If only someone had noticed what I was going through! But, of course, that’s a common story for many women who go undiagnosed.
The next morning, I woke up early, feeling emotional and a bit tearful. My mind was racing as I tried to organise my thoughts for the assessment I had later that day. The night before, I couldn’t sleep - too many thoughts buzzing in my head. As I sat there, thinking about the photos and school reports, I realised something: I’ve spent nearly 60 years struggling with something I didn’t even know was a real condition. All those struggles, all the wrong decisions, the lost relationships - it was like an endless cycle. If only I had known what was going on inside my head.
The assessment itself was a gruelling hour of reflecting on my childhood, recounting scenarios, and trying to figure out how others saw me growing up. I left the call with a diagnosis: combined-type ADHD. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it. ADHD, my whole life. And suddenly, things started to make sense. All the things I struggled with but couldn’t explain - impulsivity, disorganisation, social anxiety—it all clicked. But it also felt a bit surreal. What does this change? I don’t know just yet, but I’m trying to take it one step at a time.
It feels like I've just been handed a diagnosis for something that’s been with me my entire life. It’s not life-threatening, but it's definitely something I’ll have to learn to manage and understand. It’s like being told you have an illness that you can’t shake off, no matter how hard you try. I’ve always thought I could change things by tweaking my behaviour, but now I understand: This is just how my brain works. This is me, and while I can improve things with the right strategies, my brain is always going to be my brain.
That doesn’t mean I’m giving up; exactly the opposite. It just means that I have to find ways to navigate the challenges, not erase them. And that’s something I’m slowly learning to accept. As for self-care, I have decided that I now need to be a lot kinder to myself for some of the decisions I've made in the past, and possibly some that my future self will make! It's an explanation, not an excuse.
To find out what happens next on my journey, look out for Part 9 – It’s a family affair!