So you read
Part One. Late Diagnosed ADHD Will Break You (Before It Sets You Free)
And maybe, for the first time in your life,
someone said out loud what you’ve been trying to explain for decades.
Here’s the truth:
You’re not supposed to figure it all out.
Not today.
Not next week.
Not five years from now.
And here’s what no one tells you: Late diagnosis hits different.
You don’t just spiral because you’re overwhelmed.
You spiral because you spent decades thinking your struggles were flaws in your personality
not signs of a brain that wasn’t being supported.
I was diagnosed at 31.
Not as a kid. Not in college.
After years of masking,
burning out,
breaking down,
and building a life on top of the survival traits I didn’t know were camouflage.
That’s not failure.
That’s fucking growth.
You’ll Think You’re Better—Until You Spiral Again
There was a moment where I finally got the right meds dialed in.
I thought,
“Okay, this is how neurotypicals walk through the world.”
And for a minute?
I was thriving.
Hyperfocus felt manageable.
I could track thoughts. I could make moves.
But then I started hyperfocusing on the wrong shit.
Felt myself spinning.
And I didn’t have the tools to pull myself out.
So I started tracking it.
Wrote it down.
Catalogued it.
Voice-noted it.
Not for content.
Not for a therapist.
Just to make sure I didn’t get lost again.
That’s when I learned the magic of grace.
You’ll take more steps backward than forward.
But they won’t feel as brutal.
Because now?
You understand them.
You Are Not Broken. But You Might Outgrow the You That Was
Here’s the thing about awareness:
It changes how you see everything.
The food you eat.
The people you tolerate.
The spaces you enter.
The partners you choose.
And sometimes?
That shift will cost you things.
Friendships. Habits. Jobs. Fucking entire identities.
But the cost of not shifting?
That’s a slow death. We don’t do that anymore.
Masking Isn’t Evil. But It Isn’t Required Anymore
Unmasking doesn’t mean never wearing the mask again.
It means choosing when to wear it.
Sometimes the mask helps.
Sometimes the mask protects.
But the mask should never be the thing people love you for.
Because then you’re performing.
And Part Two? Part Two is where we stop fucking performing.
The Praise That Hurts The Most
You ever get complimented for something that was actually part of your survival response?
Like me
I remember people saying,
“You’re such a great connector. You’re always the life of the party.”
And I used to eat that shit up.
But eventually I realized:
I wasn’t trying to be charming.
I was just trying to avoid silence.
To control chaos. To not feel out of place.
The hyper-detail?
The contextual memory?
That’s not just impressive.
That’s trauma-trained observation.
These Are My ADHD Superstitions
They’re not hacks. They’re not habits. They’re rituals.
They’re what get me through.
Clothes that make me safe with my favorite textures.
They pull attention away from my anxiety and my depression episodes.
Voice notes. Because my thoughts are too fast to keep inside.
Music calibration. Certain genres to dial in.
Others to flip the switch fast.
Secret naughty underwear. Thong. G-string.
No one sees it. But I know I’m wearing it. And that makes me walk different.
This isn’t performance. This is precision.
Oversharing Is My Opener
I don’t overshare to be loud.
I overshare to set the tone.
To say, “This is real. You can meet me here. Or not.”
And when someone says,
“Holy shit. Thank you for saying all that. Now I get it.”
I melt.
Because that’s recognition.
Not validation.
Just… seen.
You want to really get me?
One-up my confession.
Double down.
Go deeper.
That’s not a competition.
That’s foreplay.
You don’t have to match the depth.
Just hold the space.
Just nod and stay.
That’s foreplay too.
I Don’t Expect You to Match Me. But I Do Need You to Respect It.
If you shut down? Shrink? Can’t go there with me?
That’s okay.
But I’ll recalibrate.
I’ll change the room.
I’ll build new ways to connect.
Because I’ve finally stopped assuming that my vulnerability requires your mirror.
What it requires is space.
Clarity.
And the ability to name what I need.
I didn’t do that for the first 40 years.
I’m doing it now.
You Made It Through Part 1. You’re Still Spiraling. That’s Good.
It means your nervous system is working.
It means your truth is waking up.
And if you were diagnosed late in life?
This shit is always going to feel more intense.
More disorienting.
More sacred.
Because you have more years to grieve.
More habits to break.
More memories to reprocess.
Don’t rush to fix it.
Don’t try to optimize it.
Don’t build a brand out of your unmasking.
Just breathe.
Speak it.
Track it.
Fuck with it.
And when you’re ready?
Overshare it.
Because someone else is going to need your Part 2.
And they won’t get there unless you go first.
When you are ready you can jump into Part 3: “What I wish Neurotypicals knew and understood but I struggle to explain it” is coming soon.