Growing up, I always felt different, but I couldn’t explain why. Teachers said I was smart but too quiet. Friends and family thought I was sensitive. At home, I often heard that I was lazy, dramatic, or overthinking things. Deep down, I believed there was something wrong with me, I just didn’t know what.
I’d heard of “ADD” growing up. My dad used to say he had it because he always had trouble paying attention, and I felt that whole-heartedly. Deep down, I always suspected that if “ADD” was a real thing, I probably had it too. But I never looked into it any further. It wasn’t until adulthood that I finally learned the truth: I’m neurodivergent. For the longest time, I thought ADHD only applied to boys, especially the hyperactive ones who couldn’t sit still. Since I wasn’t bouncing off the walls, I didn’t fit the stereotype. Like so many women, I was overlooked because my struggles didn’t match the narrow, male-centered picture of ADHD and autism.
I didn’t receive my ADHD diagnosis until I was 35. I actually had to advocate for myself to get tested because even my “unprofessional” psychiatrists—actually their nurse practitioners—didn’t listen to me or believed anything I was telling them. I guess they never learned in school what masking is. I fought tooth and nail for the answers I so desperately needed, and when I finally got them, suddenly my entire life made sense. All of the constant struggles, the burnout, the way I experienced the world more intensely than others. But getting to that point took years of confusion and self-blame. And I know that I’m not alone in that.
Many women don’t receive an ADHD or autism diagnosis until later in life, if at all. According to ADDitude Magazine, ADHD in women is frequently missed because symptoms are often internalized—showing up as anxiety, daydreaming, or difficulty with organization—rather than the more “typical” hyperactive behaviors seen in boys. Similarly, the Autistic Women & Nonbinary Network notes that girls are often better at masking their challenges by mimicking peers, which makes their struggles less visible.
That masking comes at a cost. For years, I became an expert at hiding my difficulties, pushing through, and pretending I was fine. On the outside, I looked put-together; on the inside, I was exhausted. Without answers, I carried shame and the belief that I was failing at things everyone else seemed to manage so easily.
When I finally got diagnosed, it was like breathing for the first time. That shift in perspective gave me the space to heal, to grow, and to start embracing who I am. But I can’t help but think: what if I had known sooner? How much pain, confusion, and self-doubt could have been avoided?
This is why I speak up now. Too many women are overlooked because the research, the criteria, and the awareness haven’t fully caught up to how neurodivergence shows up in us. We deserve better. We deserve to be seen, supported, and celebrated for the unique strengths we bring.
“Too many women suffer in silence, their brilliance hidden behind the mask of being ‘too sensitive’ or ‘too emotional.'”--Anonymous
#ADHDInGirls #ADHD #MentalHealth