I didn’t think an ADHD diagnosis after finishing school would matter

The last time I stepped foot in an exam room was over 10 years ago, so I figured that at 32 years old, getting a formal ADHD diagnosis would be pointless. I made it through school and college, built a great career, and have systems that keep me current. Who needs a label, right?

I felt like joining the ranks of people diagnosed with ADHD in their 30s would be… strange. Kind of like when I tried roller skating last year, hanging on to the railings, struggling to stay upright, angry at every kid who walked past me holding the skating aids. The tiny support frames were built for them, not me.

I thought it would be the same: that a diagnosis wouldn’t change anything in my current life, because there are no exams, no report cards, no teachers I’m trying to impress. (My Pilates teacher doesn’t count. She can’t be impressed. I tried.)

I learned how important a diagnosis could be

The fact is that adults need these diagnostics as much as children, although for different reasons. Children are supervised by teachers and parents, who provide them with scaffolding for their daily lives. Adults manage themselves. No one takes me in the car to make sure I get to an appointment on time, and if I miss an email, the consequences could be serious.

I’ve established things to keep me on track, like a coded calendar, to-do lists for the days, and even little notes on my phone to remind me of stupid things, like the seafood pasta at a particular restaurant isn’t as good as it looks on the menu… because I forget that every time.

Imposter syndrome led to my current diagnosis. After years of self-diagnosed ADHD, I felt compelled to confirm with a specialist when, a few months ago, I was invited to speak on a panel about visibility strategies for people with ADHD. I didn’t want to accept the invitation unless I truly belonged to this community that I suspected I belonged to.

After 90 minutes of consultation and evaluation with a psychiatrist, it was official. I was surprised at how quickly the process went. I was even more surprised at the feeling of compassion that now materialized every time I asked myself, “Why am I like this?”

It helped me hone my coping skills

I felt less stupid every time I forgot what I was saying mid-sentence because something was distracting me. I’ve started to identify how time-blind I really am, viewing my incomplete to-do list as an inevitability because I’m always trying to cram too much into a single day. I now try to put the brakes on whenever I get really excited about something, like when I called myself a scuba diver and bought a pile of new gear that now mostly sits in my closet. I can see procrastination as a “moment” in my executive functioning, rather than criticizing myself for my laziness.

There are no tests coming up (thank goodness for small mercies), but that doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying the benefits of my ADHD diagnosis late in life. It’s tempting to get lost in “what ifs” – what if I had been diagnosed as a child? Would school have seemed easier? Would I have chosen my university courses differently? Would my professional life have turned out differently?

I can speculate, but it’s no use. I find strength in community (I recently asked my Instagram followers who have an ADHD diagnosis and there are way more of us than I thought), and I love learning about the strengths and challenges that ADHD presents.