Tori put together this fantastic piece on their experiences of ADHD, the impact it’s had on their personal and professional development – and the lessons they’ve learnt from it. Over to Tori:
Growing up, no one thought I had ADHD. I was the overachiever, the student who did well in school, thrived in extracurricular activities (like performing arts and gymnastics), and was always surrounded by friends.
On the outside, I was excelling. But no one saw the storm brewing beneath the surface. Because I was “successful” – and obedient to my parents and teachers – the signs of ADHD went unnoticed, buried under a veneer of extroversion and academic excellence.
That all began to change when I started my A-levels. The demands of school became more intense, and the cracks in my armour started to show. My executive dysfunction was in overdrive.
Simple tasks became insurmountable, and I found myself trapped in a cycle of avoidance.
My belief was, “If I never really tried, then it doesn’t count as failing.” This mentality gave me a temporary shield from the fear of failure – but came at a cost. It all eventually blew up after performing terribly in my mock exams. Then I had to throw myself into my books twice as hard and in hardly any time at all.
My mental health deteriorated, leading to anxiety, depression, and seriously disordered eating – all as a result of the immense pressure I put on myself to mask my struggles and appear “normal.”
As I transitioned into adulthood and entered the workplace, things got even more confusing. I found that certain tasks, like creative problem-solving or brainstorming, came naturally to me, and I could complete them far faster than my colleagues. I’d be irritated when it took them a long time to figure out that the idea I gave them 30 minutes ago was pure gold.
At the same time, there were tasks like filling out my expenses that seemed impossible. I would dread doing them every month, and even when I finally forced myself to complete them (usually on the day they were due), mistakes were inevitable. I couldn’t understand why my abilities were so inconsistent, why I was so brilliant in some areas but continually failed in others.
It wasn’t until I stumbled upon a series of videos on TikTok that things began to make sense. These videos talked about ADHD in women, how often it goes unnoticed, especially in high-achieving girls. For the first time, I saw myself reflected in those stories. I realised that what I had been struggling with all my life had a name.
That ADHD wasn’t just the naughty one at school who wouldn’t sit still or listen to the teacher, but that it was also the quiet kid whose brain was moving at a million miles per hour (and seemingly in no set direction).
When I received my official ADHD diagnosis, I fell into the deepest depression of my life. Instead of feeling validated or relieved, I was consumed by grief. Grief for the years lost to misunderstanding and self-blame.
It felt like a life sentence. There was hopelessness in knowing that I’d never get back those years of feeling alone in every room I walked into, questioning every friendship I’d ever had – and wondering if I was actually the person I had shown to the world for twenty-something years. The term ‘masking’ was one that led me to doubt everything, because I didn’t know who I was when that mask came off. In fact, I didn’t think I’d ever taken it off.
I slowly climbed out of that dark place after something changed in me. My depression turned into a burning need to ensure that others wouldn’t have to go through the same experience. I wanted to transform the diagnosis from something that felt debilitating into something that could be empowering.
I channelled all my energy into advocating for neuroinclusion—creating spaces where neurodivergent individuals could thrive without constantly trying to fit into a mould that was never made for them.
My work now, focused on neuroinclusion, is the culmination of a lifetime of feeling let down by a world that didn’t understand me. It’s a direct response to the challenges I faced growing up, to the years of masking – and to the deep pain that came with realising that my brain just worked differently.
I’m working with forward-thinking organisations like By Miles to dispel myths, and build awareness – not by simply sharing definitions, but through creating simulations of what it’s like to experience conditions like ADHD, Autism and Dyslexia.
It’s only by experiencing the challenges first hand, that we begin to create change in the workplace.
I’m committed to changing the narrative, to building a world where a diagnosis like ADHD is a key to self-understanding and liberation – not a source of shame or despair. The quote about fish climbing trees is one that I always come back to, not for any real reason other than the fact that it illustrates that my inability to perform basic tasks doesn’t mean I’m stupid – or less than anyone else.
Glossary:
ADHD (Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder).
A neurodevelopmental disorder characterised by patterns of inattention, hyperactivity, and impulsivity that can interfere with functioning or development. In adults, symptoms often manifest as issues with focus, organisation, and managing daily tasks.
Executive Dysfunction.
A term used to describe difficulties with executive functions—mental skills that include working memory, flexible thinking, and self-control. People with executive dysfunction may struggle to manage time, organise tasks, and regulate their emotions, which can make everyday tasks seem overwhelming.
Masking.
A coping mechanism often used by neurodivergent individuals to hide or suppress their neurodivergent traits in order to blend in with societal expectations. Masking can involve imitating neurotypical behaviours, hiding difficulties, and minimising symptoms, but over time, it can lead to mental exhaustion and negative mental health impacts.
Neuroinclusion.
A philosophy and practice of creating environments where neurodivergent individuals (those with conditions like ADHD, autism, dyslexia, etc.) are understood, respected, and supported to thrive. Neuroinclusion emphasises accommodating differences rather than expecting neurodivergent people to conform to neurotypical norms.
Neurodivergent.
A term used to describe individuals whose brain functions differ from what is considered typical or “neurotypical.” This includes people with ADHD, autism, dyslexia, and other neurological or developmental conditions.
Neurotypical.
Refers to individuals whose neurological development and cognitive functioning align with what is considered typical or average in society. It is often used to contrast with neurodivergent individuals.
Cycle of Avoidance.
A behavioural pattern where a person avoids tasks or responsibilities that feel overwhelming or impossible. In ADHD, avoidance can stem from executive dysfunction and a fear of failure, leading to procrastination and increased anxiety.
Disordered Eating.
An unhealthy relationship with food and eating that can manifest in behaviours like restricting, binge eating, or other forms of eating dysregulation. Disordered eating can be a response to stress or emotional challenges, including the pressures of masking or managing ADHD symptoms.
Burnout.
A state of physical, emotional, and mental exhaustion caused by prolonged stress. For neurodivergent individuals, burnout can result from long-term masking or the constant effort to meet neurotypical standards, leading to a collapse in mental health.
