Rethinking ADHD Awareness: Presence, Support, and Liberation Awareness Month Reflections

I originally wrote this piece for the Liberatory Wellness Network blog, where it was first published on October 7, 2025. As that network has since sunset due to financial strain, I’m sharing it here as part of my ongoing effort to archive and steward my work.

I once spent three hours reorganizing my entire digital files in my Google work drive, convinced I had finally solved a problem I hadn’t even realized existed—only to realize I had missed an appointment that couldn’t be rescheduled until months later. That moment, frustrating and familiar, captures the way my mind moves: intense focus on what grabs my attention, while other priorities slip through the cracks. It’s ADHD, and it’s more than a quirk.

As ADHD Awareness Month begins, I find myself reflecting on what it means to finally have recognition for a difference that was invisible for so long. Reflection, because my own diagnosis came later in life, almost by accident. And frustration because even now, much of the conversation still misses the point.

A Diagnosis by Accident

In my late twenties, after a close friend passed away by suicide, my symptoms intensified like never before. I started Welbutrin for what was thought to be severe depression. After three months of noticeable improvement, I told my care provider, “I’m surprised—my impulses to ‘do all the things’ feel less intense. I can focus longer and feel more in control of where my attention goes.” She paused, then said, “That’s interesting. Let me ask you some questions.”

She asked about my childhood learning, my college experiences, and the traits I had long brushed off as quirks. What followed was an unexpected diagnosis of inattentive ADHD and a complete reframing of how I understood myself. I learned that ADHD often looks different in adults, especially women, and that what had been labeled as depression was in fact deep grief and nervous system exhaustion intensified by an unrecognized neurodivergence.

Unprocessed Grief with ADHD

Grief with ADHD can feel like an emotional loop, with waves that resist resolution. For women, non-binary, and gender-diverse people, societal expectations often demand extra labor, contribute to misdiagnoses, and make invisible work feel mandatory. ADHD can intensify these pressures, making grief feel relentless, unpredictable, and difficult to process. In a culture that values pushing through over pausing to reflect, grief can turn into a cycle of exhaustion, anger, or despair. For years, I carried this loop with me—unable to fully grieve or move forward—until I began working with grief therapy.

Working with grief therapy helped me finally process layers of emotion I had carried for nearly a decade. I hadn’t realized how my brain would short-circuit whenever I thought about my friend who passed away. My trusted therapist recognized this and offered a series of intensive processing sessions. It wasn’t about fixing myself—it was about creating space to feel, process, honor, and uncover new understanding. Using a combination of EMDR and comparative questioning, I processed more than I had in the previous nine years. I realized I had been telling myself a story about our relationship that wasn’t true. Now, that sharp, stuck feeling of grief feels like it belongs to the past instead of replaying as if it happened yesterday. I also feel a deeper spiritual connection to him, even though he’s no longer here. And to be honest, I realized part of why we connected so effortlessly is that he very likely had undiagnosed ADHD as well.

Beyond Symptoms

Mainstream discussions of ADHD tend to fixate on “symptoms” like forgetfulness or distraction. The message is to organize better, try harder, or mask what doesn’t fit. People often assume ADHD looks like constant hyperactivity or chaos. For me, it looked like chronic stress to my nervous system, silent exhaustion, meticulous lists, and endless perfectionistic tendencies rife with self-critique and self-comparison. ADHD isn’t about effort or discipline. It’s about how the brain engages with the world. When we treat it as a list of problems to manage, we erase the relational, systemic, and emotional realities that shape our lives.

Reframing Strengths

After my diagnosis, I began to see what I once called “quirks” as traits that deserved care and curiosity. My creativity, hyperfocus, and deep dives into areas of interest weren’t flaws—they were evidence of how my mind works best. I can lose hours in creative flow or problem-solving, which makes me strong in my work as a coach, writer, and educator. Still, I rely on tools to stay grounded: timers for work sessions, alarms for transitions, and visual calendars for long projects. Tracking my cycle helps me plan around energy shifts and extend more grace to myself during low-focus times, especially managing PMDD alongside ADHD.

Seeing ADHD in Others

I tend to notice similar patterns in my clients. One educator I coached described feeling “lazy” because she couldn’t keep up with a rigid pacing guide. Together, we rebuilt her system around her natural energy cycles and strengths instead of the clock. Once the structure stopped fighting her, her creativity and insight came forward. Supporting neurodivergent people, especially in helping professions, means creating environments that affirm and support our ways of thinking instead of correcting them.

Shifting the Focus of ADHD Awareness

If I could shift the focus of ADHD Awareness Month, I would ask people to look at what liberation really means for neurodivergent folks. Awareness alone isn’t enough. True understanding requires noticing the structural barriers that exhaust us, the shame that builds when difference is pathologized, and the possibility that opens when people are met with trust and flexibility.

Designing My Days Around My Brain

For me, liberation looks like designing my days around my brain, not against it. I honor my deep need for autonomy over my time while embedding structures and rituals that help me stay aligned with my purpose and community.
I used to believe I needed a highly structured job to be “functional,” but I can see now how much I was sacrificing to meet expectations that were never made for me. I was constantly managing and masking—trying to fix myself to fit. Now, working for myself, I create co-working spaces that keep me grounded in accountability and connection while leaving room for the creative projects I once pushed to the back burner.

Embracing the Nonlinear Path

When I stopped forcing myself to function in a very specific way, I found more peace, creativity, and authentic connection than I ever had before. Many of us were taught that productivity equals worth, but liberation—at least for me—has meant reclaiming my energy, my rhythm, and my right to move through the world in nonlinear, intuitive ways.

Sources

ADHD and Emotional Dysregulation / Grief
Barkley, R. A. (2006). Attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder: A handbook for diagnosis and treatment (3rd ed.). Guilford Press.

Delayed Diagnoses in Women / Gendered Expectations
Rucklidge, J. J., & Tannock, R. (2002). Psychiatric, psychosocial, and cognitive functioning in girls with ADHD. Journal of the American Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatry, 41(8), 988–996. https://doi.org/10.1097/00004583-200208000-00013

EMDR Therapy for Trauma and ADHD / Grief Processing
Shapiro, F. (2018). Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) therapy: Basic principles, protocols, and procedures (3rd ed.). Guilford Press.

ADHD and Emotional Processing / Grief Differences
Schoemaker, K., et al. (2012). Emotional regulation in adults with ADHD. Journal of Attention Disorders, 16(4), 285–293. https://doi.org/10.1177/1087054711403860

Beyond Awareness / Structural Barriers
Singh, I. (2008). “You’re doing okay, but do you really have ADHD?”: Discourses of diagnosis and treatment in the UK. Social Science & Medicine, 67(8), 1428–1436. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.socscimed.2008.06.013