Tracy Firth, Registered Provisional Psychologist
Like many of my clients, I discovered late in life that an invisible disorder had been shaping my life all along.
I was diagnosed with ADHD at age 48. I had just completed a master’s degree in counselling psychology and was starting my career as a therapist—work I had wanted to do since I was 17 years old. I had finally achieved a lifelong goal! Why, then, was I still so depressed and stressed?
Being a therapist didn’t mean I had life figured out. I felt like a fraud. I was navigating single parenthood, managing a solo practice, and struggling to stay on top of my responsibilities. I had been diagnosed with depression in my early twenties, but despite treatment, I kept finding myself overwhelmed. Feeling defeated, I went to my family doctor to discuss a medication change. Instead, she reviewed my history and screening forms and asked me if I had ever considered that I might have ADHD.
Misconceptions can be harmful
The thing is, I had—but I had also talked myself out of it multiple times. I wasn’t noticeably hyperactive, I didn’t recognize my childhood experiences in the screening questions, and I had earned good grades in high school. University hadn’t been easy, but I had successfully completed two degrees. How could I have ADHD?
Those assumptions kept me from looking further. In reality, academic success does not rule out ADHD, and hyperactivity is not always obvious or even part of someone’s presentation. And although symptoms must be present in childhood, recognizing and remembering them, especially years later, is often difficult.
My doctor encouraged further investigation, and I scheduled an assessment.
Receiving my diagnosis stirred up complicated emotions. It offered an explanation for years of white-knuckling my way through responsibilities that seemed easier for other people. But it also raised questions I couldn’t answer: Would things have been different if I had known sooner? Would I have struggled less?
Clients often ask this same question in session. I resist the urge to fill the silence and sit with them while they absorb the idea that the answer is forever unknowable.
It’s a question I have, too. I have learned to acknowledge it without getting caught up in trying to answer it. Yes, earlier recognition might have helped me develop strategies to manage my symptoms sooner, but there’s no way of truly knowing what would have been different, if anything. What I feel most keenly is the possibility that I could have understood myself sooner—and that maybe I would have learned to treat myself with compassion rather than criticism.
ADHD is a brain-based disorder, not a character flaw
I grew up believing I was deficient in some way. If I could just try harder, pull myself together, or find more willpower, I would do better. Eventually, I started using humour to cover the insecurity I felt. “Sorry I’m late—it’s a character flaw” became a familiar line.
ADHD is a neurodevelopmental disorder involving brain development and function. For many, it affects attention, impulse control, organization, time management, and the ability to start and finish tasks. The difficulties people experience, and how much they affect daily life, vary from person to person. These difficulties are not evidence of laziness or a lack of caring, and academic achievement does not make anyone immune to them.
Radical acceptance: Grieving a past we cannot know
A late diagnosis can change how we understand earlier experiences. It can also bring grief for the support, understanding, and self-compassion we might have had. We can grieve those possibilities without knowing precisely what may have changed.
Radical acceptance means acknowledging reality as it is, including the parts we wish were different. It does not require being happy about it, dismissing its impact, or being grateful for the struggle.
It might sound like:
I wish I had understood myself sooner. I cannot know how different my life would have been, but I can acknowledge that loss and choose how I support myself now.
Acceptance is something we may need to practise repeatedly. We can move forward and still have moments of sadness about the past.
Self-compassion and responsibility can coexist
Self-compassion does not mean pretending our mistakes and difficulties have no consequences. It means addressing them without treating ourselves as defective.
“I’m hopeless with paperwork” offers little direction, but “Starting paperwork is difficult for me, so I need protected time and a smaller first step” gives you something to work with.
You can acknowledge a mistake, repair its impact, and change your approach without turning it into a judgment about your worth.
Understanding helps. Support matters, too.
Learning about ADHD can help you recognize patterns and find strategies that fit your needs. Reliable information can also help you reconsider assumptions you have carried about yourself for years.
If you suspect you have ADHD, a qualified health professional can help assess your concerns and consider other possible explanations. Support may include ADHD education, psychological treatment, practical strategies, and medication when appropriate. Treatment is not "one size fits all"—your needs and circumstances should guide the approach.
Look for a therapist who stays informed and can help you distinguish evidence-based treatment from the well-intentioned but sometimes ineffective strategies in your social media feed. Look for someone who understands how ADHD can affect different areas of life and offers support beyond techniques for motivation and task initiation.
How this informs my work
My lived experience does not tell me what another person’s ADHD feels like, but it does remind me to make room for the feelings that can come with a late diagnosis, alongside the practical difficulties that bring someone to therapy.
Some people might want space to explore grief and self-understanding. Others might need immediate help managing daily responsibilities. Many want both. It makes sense to prioritize what feels most important to you in the moment, rather than assuming there is one right place to begin.
Living with ADHD is an ongoing process of understanding your needs, finding support that fits, and learning self-compassion.
