Hello,

 

For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt like I experience the world differently from the people around me—though for a long time, I didn’t have the words to explain why. Instead, I just felt like I was “weird” or carrying a secret I couldn’t share.

 

As a child, I struggled in ways that weren’t always obvious from the outside. At school, I found it hard to focus—especially when something didn’t immediately interest me. My mind would drift constantly, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t “just concentrate” the way others could. I often felt frustrated with myself, because I wanted to do well—I just didn’t understand why it felt so much harder for me.

 

I also found it difficult to ask for help. If I didn’t understand something, I would stay quiet—partly out of embarrassment, but also from a fear of being told off or judged. However, one person who never stopped advocating for me was my mum. Even when I didn’t have the words, she stood beside me and supported me in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time, but appreciate deeply now.

 

Socially, things could feel confusing and overwhelming. I worried about saying the wrong thing or being misunderstood. Sometimes I would talk too much, and other times I would completely shut down. I struggled to regulate my emotions, and small things could feel huge. Looking back, I can see these were early signs of ADHD—but at the time, I was simply labelled as “sensitive.” In reality, I was experiencing rejection sensitive dysphoria (RSD) without knowing it.

 

As I got older—especially during my teenage years and at university—these challenges became more intense. Academic pressure increased, but my ability to organise, prioritise, and retain information didn’t improve in the same way as others around me. My working memory has always been a major struggle. I can forget instructions almost as soon as they’re given, lose track of tasks or time, and feel overwhelmed trying to juggle multiple things at once.

 

At university, this often made me feel like I was constantly falling behind, even when I was putting in so much effort. I would start tasks with good intentions but struggle to follow through, or leave things until the last minute because I couldn’t manage my time effectively. It was never a lack of care—it was a lack of the right support and understanding. I was even labelled as “lazy,” which only deepened that feeling of not being good enough.

 

In social situations, I could also become easily overstimulated. Busy environments, noise, and too much happening at once can feel overwhelming. When that happens, I may need to withdraw or take time to regulate myself—sometimes for longer than people expect. I didn’t understand why I reacted this way, and it often left me feeling embarrassed or ashamed. I was called “spoiled,” “selfish,” or told I should have grown out of my “tantrums,” but they were never tantrums—they were overwhelm.

 

These challenges have continued into my working life. ADHD can affect my confidence, especially when it comes to memory, processing information, and keeping up in fast-paced environments. I sometimes need things repeated or written down, and I can feel overwhelmed when given multiple instructions at once. Numbers and spreadsheets can be particularly difficult to process.

 

However, since my diagnosis, I’ve also experienced the positive impact of the right support. In my workplace, I’ve been given helpful adjustments and understanding, which has made a real difference to my confidence and ability to succeed. I’ve also been incredibly fortunate to have the support of my friends and family, who have taken the time to understand me and stand by me.

 

Alongside these challenges, ADHD has also shaped who I am in positive ways. I am empathetic, creative, artistic, and deeply passionate about the things I care about. I bring energy, ideas, and compassion into my work, my friendships, and my relationships.

 

Being diagnosed at 30 has been life-changing. It has helped me make sense of my experiences and allowed me to be kinder to myself. I now understand that my struggles are not due to a lack of effort—but a difference in how my brain works.

 

I am now on my medication journey, and I want to become an ADHD ambassador because I know how isolating it can feel to struggle in silence—to believe that you’re “not good enough,” “hopeless,” or “weird.”

 

I want to help others feel understood, supported, and empowered—and to challenge the kind of criticism I grew up hearing, including being told that the most I could hope for was something small or limiting.

 

ADHD is not a failure—it’s a different way of experiencing the world.

 

With the right support, understanding, and the right people in your corner, those with ADHD can truly thrive. I know this because I am one—and I want to help others feel that too.

 

ADHD, to me, means having the freedom to be myself and to accept who I am—even when I make mistakes. I’m not naughty. I’m not lazy. I’m not “too much,” too quiet, or weird—I just experience the world differently.

 

And just because my brain works differently doesn’t mean I don’t deserve the same opportunities, support, and experiences as anyone else.

 

In fact, my ADHD has helped guide me toward a path that suits me. My creativity has led me into my job, and to work for amazing festivals and events, where I’ve been able to meet incredible people, attend gigs, and be part of planning events and experiences for others.

 

I am unique—and although ADHD comes with challenges, it is also part of what makes me who I am.

 

And I am worthy of belonging!