My ADHD Diagnosis Journey: From Silent Struggles to Self-Discovery

Looking back, I realize my ADHD had been with me my entire life, but it went unnoticed. In elementary and high school, I excelled academically, which allowed my symptoms to fly under the radar. I internalized so much, masking the forgetfulness, procrastination, and emotional dysregulation that made each day a silent battle. I was a people pleaser, a perfectionist, and I hid my struggles well. There’s still a running joke in my family about how I could never remember that potatoes were tubers, asking every dinner, “Are potatoes a vegetable?” It was just one of the many “quirks” of my ADHD that was brushed off as forgetfulness, but the reality was, I was often overwhelmed and exhausted. At the end of the day, I would retreat to my room and cry, feeling utterly defeated by the amount of effort it took to just keep up.

It wasn’t until I was 26 that I finally received my diagnosis, after being misdiagnosed for years with anxiety and depression, and then Bipolar Disorder. However, my story doesn't start at 26.

College: My Darkest Chapter

In college, I felt like I was losing myself. I kept my mental health struggles to myself, working 60-hour weeks and juggling 15-17 credit hours to avoid being alone with my thoughts. It was a coping mechanism, a way to escape being alone with my mind, but it left me physically and emotionally drained. At times, I was plagued by passive suicidal thoughts. I remember vividly the day I thought, “What if I just ran into a tree on my drive home?” I didn’t talk about it—I couldn’t. Instead, I bottled them up inside while I pretended to have everything under control.

By then my now-husband noticed that something was off. For the first time, I let someone else in on my struggles. It was a strange combination of relief and guilt. I didn’t want to be a burden, but I also didn’t want to face my mind alone anymore. He became my lifeline, helping me take the first steps toward healing. It was a turning point, though things didn't completely turn around just yet.

Becoming a Teacher: The Breaking Point

Things started looking up until I became a teacher. Teaching brought back all those feelings I had fought so hard to suppress. I was crying nearly every day and having frequent panic attacks. The pressure and stress of the job reignited my passive suicidal thoughts. It felt like I was drowning all over again. But this time, two things stopped me: my husband and my dog, Chewy. 

Chewy and I have an unspoken bond. He would lick my tears when I cried, sleep next to me every night, and greet me with unbridled joy when I got home. In my darkest moments, when I thought about giving up, I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind. He had become my emotional support dog, and I was his emotional support person. In a way, we were each other's lifeline. Knowing I had him and my husband waiting for me at home kept me going when nothing else could.

After a lot of soul-searching and conversations with my husband and therapist, I made one of the hardest decisions of my life: I quit teaching. Quitting teaching felt like failure, but it turned out to be the most important decision I’ve ever made for my mental health.

The Road to an ADHD Diagnosis

After leaving the classroom, I started focusing on myself for the first time. At the time, I was still under the impression that I was battling anxiety and depression. When I was misdiagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, I was left with more questions and confused. I only talked about it with my husband and my therapist. My therapist, who knew me well, was puzzled by the diagnosis. She mentioned that my symptoms aligned more with ADHD than Bipolar Disorder, which led me down the path of seeking a specialist who understood both conditions.

When I finally received my official ADHD diagnosis, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief and clarity. For the first time in my life, everything made sense. The diagnosis allowed me to begin the process of unmasking and embracing my authentic self. As much as it was a relief, it also brought up a lot of emotions. I had to allow myself to grieve for the years I spent feeling “off,” mislabeled, and misunderstood. I was angry and sad, but also hopeful that now, I could begin to understand who I truly was beneath all the layers of masking.

A New Lens on Life

Receiving my ADHD diagnosis hasn’t “cured” me, but it has given me a new lens through which to see myself and the world. I still struggle with forgetfulness, procrastination, and emotional dysregulation, but I am more equipped to navigate the world in a way that works for me. ADHD has become a defining part of my life—not in the sense that it holds me back, but because it’s helped me rediscover myself. Every day is a journey of growth, and while it isn’t always easy, it’s worth it.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned through this process, it’s that we all deserve the space to unmask and be seen for who we truly are. My ADHD journey isn’t just about learning to live with a diagnosis—it’s about learning to live authentically.