Why I'm done saying "I have ADHD"
A few weeks ago, we talked about labels.
This week, I want to go deeper — into the sticky world of stereotypes. Because lately, something's been bothering me.
I’ve realised I’ve become a bit passive (you could call it a lack of confidence) when it comes to expressing what I really think. I want to be kind. I want to be non-judgmental. But I also want to be honest. And some things still send me huffing off into the kitchen, muttering under my breath.
What’s been getting on my nerves?
Let’s start here: ADHD has been captured. Packaged. Monetised. Memed. It’s been reduced by too many influencers to a clunky list of buzzwords and behaviours. A quirky personality type with a short attention span and a fondness for chaos. A scapegoat for lost keys and missed deadlines. A justification for being late to everything, again.
And frankly? I think we deserve better.
Many of the traits thrown around online aren’t even solidly backed by science. Take RSD — Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. It is often cited as gospel in ADHD spaces. But it’s not a clinical diagnosis, and there’s limited peer-reviewed evidence supporting it as a distinct phenomenon. Emotional dysregulation? Yes, that’s real. But slapping the RSD label on every moment of emotional intensity doesn’t help me understand myself. It just gives me a new shortcut to avoid asking the harder question: where is this reaction really coming from?
Sure, I’m sensitive to rejection. But is that because of my ADHD? Or is it because I’m human, and I care about being understood? And more to the point: does assigning blame to a label help me deal with the feeling? Not really.
What I’ve started to see is this: how we frame our experience matters. Here’s a thought experiment. Which of these feels more empowering to say?
“I’m pretty smart. When I’m interested in something, I fall into a state of flow where nothing else exists. It’s a beautiful thing, and feels like that’s the point of being human.”
Or:
“I’ve got ADHD, which means I ignore important things and then hyperfocus on random stuff.”
Both might be true. But only one feels like it was written by someone who likes themselves.
I want to be clear: I absolutely recognise the stigma. I know what it’s like to be misunderstood, or unsupported. A diagnosis can be a lifeline — a shortcut to understanding, a passport to support. But here’s the paradox I keep coming back to:
To access help, you must first be classified as disordered.
And yet, the whole spirit of neurodiversity is the belief that we are not broken. We are just different.
That’s the tension I’m sitting with. It’s frustrating. It’s liberating. It’s confusing. It’s real. And it doesn’t fit neatly on a hashtag.
But it does give me a kind of direction. I’m learning that I don’t have to pick sides between I need help and I am not broken. I can hold both truths. I can seek support and question the systems that define me. I can reject stereotypes while still being honest about my needs.
That, to me, is the limb I’m climbing out onto. It’s wobbly. It’s exposed. But it’s where the best fruit is.
Thanks for climbing with me.
Epilogue: My Eucatastrophe
There's a word I keep returning to: eucatastrophe.
It was coined by J.R.R. Tolkien, from the Greek eu- ("good") and katastrophē ("sudden turn"). A eucatastrophe is a massive turn in fortune from a seemingly unconquerable situation to an unforeseen victory, not won through brute force but through grace.
And that's how I felt, watching The Lord of the Rings (again). What hit me wasn't the battles or the heroics, but the fellowship — elf, dwarf, hobbit, human. They aren't reduced to their categories. They're bonded by purpose.
That's what I want. Not to be "the ADHD one" in a group of neurotypicals. But to be part of a fellowship. The diagnosis felt like a catastrophe. Realising I don’t have to be limited by it — that was my eucatastrophe.
References and Further Reading:
Hoogman, M., et al. (2017). Subcortical brain volume differences in participants with ADHD: a cross-sectional mega-analysis. The Lancet Psychiatry.
Demontis, D., et al. (2023). Genome-wide analyses of ADHD identify 27 risk loci and refine the polygenic architecture. Nature Genetics.
MacDonald, H. J., et al. (2024). The dopamine hypothesis for ADHD: An evaluation of evidence from human and animal studies. Frontiers in Psychiatry.
Thomas, T. R., et al. (2022). Three decades of ASD genetics: building a foundation. Translational Psychiatry.
Broderick, A. A., & Roscigno, R. (2021). Autism, Inc.: The Autism Industrial Complex. Journal of Disability Studies in Education.
Conrad, P., & Bergey, M. (2014). The impending globalization of ADHD. Social Science & Medicine.
Schwarz, A. (2016). ADHD Nation: Children, Doctors, Big Pharma, and the Making of an American Epidemic. Scribner.
Chapman, R. (2021). Neurodiversity Theory and Its Discontents. Psychiatric Times.
This is bold, beautiful and necessary comment. Keep sharing.