welcome to the club

a letter to the late diagnosed xx

This is your welcome letter.

You’ve officially joined the club.

It’s completely normal and valid to notice how hyperaware you now feel about all the traits, challenges, and quirks that were always there but now have an incredibly self-conscious bright light shining on them. Thoughts about even the smallest choice in words or movement are loud and critical.

There’s an underlying fear that you’re putting it on and playing it up, despite your confidence that you’ve always interrupted, spoken loudly, and felt impatient while waiting in line. Suddenly, you’re looking down at your feet, questioning if you’ve always bounced from foot to foot. With a finger tapping and mind racing, it’s as though all eyes are on you while stand embarrassed at the supermarket checkout.

In reality, nothing is different and no one is even looking.

Months of this second guessing will naturally occur. I’d recommend reassuring yourself with soothing self-talk that speaks through a lens of compassion.

You’re okay. You’re just aware.

Then redirect your focus outside of yourself. Look around the room and notice what your eyes, ears, and nose are picking up. Tuning into your senses is a great hack for neurodivergent adults, because for many of us, we already have our sensory input turned up a few dials.

I remember sitting in a café and wondering if I always scrunched my nose up to itch an unseen scratch. My foot moved rhythmically with the beat of the dance music.

As my friend sat down, I thought –

Would she think I’m acting differently? Would she notice the label that was hanging above my head in neon lights, flashing A D H D? Would she care? Would she see me differently in some way?

She didn’t. None of them did, not really. This was big news to me, and just a normal life update for everyone else. My world had changed, not theirs.

Thanks for reading The Rollercoaster! This post is public so feel free to share it.

Permission slips after discovering your neurotype:

Permission granted to keep the news to yourself for as long as you need. Permission granted to feel no responsibility to educate the ignorant on the topic of ADHD. Permission granted to feel naked, self-conscious, and hyperaware after your diagnosis. Permission granted to not defend your differences and turn into an online advocate.

Everyone’s journey will be different. Yours is your own. This means that absolutely no one is owned an explanation or education. If it would help you, share the resource ‘ADDitude’ Magazine and allow people to do their own research. There’s also no pressure to unmask unless you’re ready and comfortable.

Try asking yourself the following questions:

• What do I wish people knew about my ADHD?

• What do I need right now to feel validated and supported by my loved ones?

• What do I want my next steps to be – telling people, research, medication?

Sending curiosity and compassion,

Ceri Sandford
ADHD Compassion Coach

PS: This short essay is dedicated to every new late-diagnosed woman who has reached out to me for support. It is an honour to be seen as a safe space and as someone with who you can confide in. You are perfectly imperfect, just like me.