you don't have adhd
actually, i think i do
Trigger warning: This post talks about struggles with mental health! If this may negatively affect you maybe skip on this occasion <3
"Everybody says they have ADHD nowadays." I catch the headline of a discarded newspaper on the tube. My heart sinks. It's the same tired narrative: ‘Young people looking for excuses for their laziness.’ It’s one of many reasons I don’t talk about my ADHD journey, even with my closest friends.
A quick re-intro: I’m Becca. I’m 27, I work full-time in marketing for a tourism board, I love running, and I’m studying for a master’s in journalism. I run a travel TikTok and write this newsletter in my spare time. On the surface, it looks like I’ve got it all together. The truth? I’m caught in a cycle of burnout and anxiety.
As a kid, I was bubbly and talkative, but in secondary school, poor mental health hit me hard. A mix of issues, first eating disorders, then self-harm, binge drinking and crippling academic anxiety — all took their toll and peaked during the exam periods of my GCSEs and A Levels. I was terrified of failure and felt like I had to work ten times harder just to achieve the same grades as everyone else. Despite constant reassurance from teachers, nothing I did felt good enough. I spent years with increasingly dangerous coping mechanisms to handle the stresses of life, each new one replacing or piling onto the last.
Over the years, I racked up a list of diagnoses: teenage hormones, then anxiety and depression, bulimia and, at 18, I was sent to anger management (ironically, since I was terrified of confrontation). At university, I was referred for borderline personality disorder and medicated, but nothing worked. Through it all, I was just confused. I knew something wasn’t right, but I wasn’t certain what.
I graduated in 2019, despite everything, and dove into the working world, thinking it would get better. It didn’t. My issues only worsened in a professional environment. I was constantly anxious about organising my workload, meeting deadlines, and leading calls (absolute hell on earth). My reviews always came back with the same feedback: “Work on attention to detail, organisation and confidence.”
Then, a few years ago, my mum sent me a podcast about ADHD in women. It explained how it presents very differently for women. Hyperactivity often manifests internally as racing thoughts and excessive talking, with symptoms often masked by chronic low self-esteem and anxiety. Plus they end up dopamine-seeking in all the wrong places. Tick, tick, tick.
Research shows that, on average, women are diagnosed with ADHD five years later than men. In fact, ADHD is often misdiagnosed as anxiety, depression, or even personality disorders (cough, cough) More often than not, we’re just told to “try harder” or “push through” our issues, but without the proper understanding and support, it becomes impossible to manage.
To add fuel to the fire, people are now being ostracised for speaking out about thinking they may have ADHD and seeking support. I didn’t even consider it as a potential explanation for the strange mix-match of issues that continued cropping up throughout my life, my understanding was that it was for little boys who couldn’t sit still in class. Yes, I had only paid attention to lessons which interested me and would secretly read Game of Thrones or vividly daydream in my physics and maths, but nobody considered that as inattentive. The same goes for my rejection sensitivity and total meltdowns when I thought I was in trouble both at school and then also in the workplace. Hysterical crying in the office toilets? That’s just anxiety, right? Or hysteria, hormones, or melodrama.
When I started researching neurodiversity, I’d just gone sober and was about to quit my job in London to backpack around Southeast Asia. I felt stable and optimistic, ready for a change. I was fed up that while my peers were advancing in their careers, I kept falling into cycles of burnout, unable to function or keep up. At the time, I thought the problem was London or my job roles — or worse, that I was simply incapable of professional success.
Thankfully, the trip helped me in so many ways. I realised my passion for travel content creation and writing, but also how much being outside and active cleared my foggy brain. When I returned to England, I had a laser focus on what I wanted. I started applying for jobs in the travel industry and enrolled in a remote journalism MA, plus started aggressively saving with the hopes of another scuba-diving adventure. I also spoke to my GP and was added to the waiting list for an ADHD diagnosis.
Thankfully, my new role offers a healthier work/life balance, but once again I’ve found myself stuck in the same cycle of burnout. I start strong and ambitious, and then, as deadlines pile up, I drop the ball. Mistakes stack up, chipping away at my confidence. The anxiety sets in, and I start to shut down. Life admin piles up, I stop going outside — and, in the past, I’d drink more, skip meals, or self-harm to cope. Now, I just run out of energy. Tasks become impossible, I feel drained, and my mood spirals.
After years on a waiting list with no end in sight, I’m unsure what to do next besides grit my teeth and drag myself onward. Forcing myself to stay away from alcohol, go for walks, drink water and avoid doom scrolling. I dream of setting up as a freelancer with the hopes of breaking away from 9-5 structure that hasn’t worked for me so far, but at this point, it feels just as unattainable as a diagnosis.
And while I’m not here to write a sob story, I wanted to share my experience and say hey, everyone think’s i’ve got my shit together but actually, i’m struggling! ADHD might be the buzzword of the moment, but for many of us, for me at least, it isn’t an excuse. It’s a real pain and frustrating. It makes me doubt my capabilities and leaves me feeling like I have nothing useful to give to the world.
People harp on about it being a superpower, which is sometimes true, like when I complete one of my crazy ideas such as starting a newsletter or running the London marathon. But on the whole, as somebody who can’t ‘bio-hack’ my day, I’d say it’s very much a disability. So I might as well start speaking about it, even if the newspapers won’t take me seriously.
By becca mae x
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Gosh, I see so much of myself in your story. Thank you for sharing ❤️ A late diagnosis is a constant (and often exhausting) cycle of learning and unlearning.
Whenever someone makes the “everyone has ADHD these days” comment, I like to share this quote from Ellie Middleton’s book Unmasked. Instead of saying, “Everyone has Autism and ADHD now,” we should be asking, “How did we manage to let so many people down?”
Thank you for sharing. I’m struggling with the exact same and it’s nice to know I’m not alone