How do you know if someone has ADHD? They’ll tell you ... in three weeks’ time when they eventually return your email or text.Yes, I have officially joined the ranks of the neurodivergent with a diagnosis of ADHD (combined inattentive/hyperactive type). When I last wrote about it in October 2025 I was pursuing an assessment, feeling like a fraud and embarrassed about taking up everyone’s time. That’s despite ticking the box beside so, so many of the symptoms associated with executive dysfunction: inability to start tasks, emotional regulation issues, chronic and distressing procrastination.I also have other symptoms associated with ADHD and neurodivergence: misophonia (intolerance towards some sounds), restless leg syndrome, binge-eating disorder. But still, I was convinced that a diagnosis would be a result of me, decidedly not a doctor, tricking multiple medical professionals and computers through a rigorous enough set of oral and physical assessments. I don’t want to brag, but when the deeply reassuring Dr Sarah Carty from the ADHD Doc clinic presented me with my diagnosis, she pointed to one of my test results sheets and said I have it “out the barn door”. So, you’re telling me I’m riddled, doctor? That I am the best at having ADHD? It’s always nice to be told you’re good at something. Six months after my diagnosis and with five medicated months under my belt, I can tentatively say it has changed my life. Am I still procrastinating? Yes. Is my home still so disorganised that it looks like a burglar has been through looking for loot? Of course. But am I continuing to obsess about the meaning of life and the point of everything and losing myself down dark and hopeless trains of thought? No. And that’s what’s changed the most. Before diagnosis I hadn’t realised my thoughts were going as fast as they were and trapping me in such spirals. It was a psychologist in St Pats who recognised what was happening in my brain and encouraged the ADHD assessment. And thank God she did. From the day I started taking the stimulant medication used to treat ADHD, the spiralling thoughts stopped. In the past five months I haven’t Googled “what is the point of life?” once, and let me tell you, I was obsessed with that question and all of its variants and offshoots. [ Up to 90% of adults with ADHD have diagnosis for separate condition, says GPOpens in new window ]I was apprehensive about beginning the medication, a stimulant called Tyvense. When people learn that ADHD is often treated with stimulants they’re often querulous, wondering how a disorder with hyperactive in the name can be improved by dosing sufferers with “uppers”. Tyvense works by stimulating the central nervous system, improving focus and reducing impulsivity. I was mostly concerned that I wouldn’t notice any changes, but also about the reported physical effects – heart palpitations, headaches, high blood pressure. As someone in a bigger body I experience medical bias regularly; healthcare professionals will assume I have high blood pressure when actually it has always been completely fine. I was deeply afraid that the Tyvense would push it up and give them reason to chasten me. After titrating up from lower to higher doses of the medication, however, things are going just fine. [ ‘ADHD girls learn from an early age to mask, but it carries a cost’Opens in new window ]Of course, I would love if the medication was magical enough to fix everything, but as Carty told me, she likes to treat ADHD with a “pills and skills” approach. So, I see a specialist ADHD occupational therapist around once a month who’s helping with problems like beginning important tasks, sleep issues and decision making, which I often find paralysing. It’s not all sunshine and roses, though. A private ADHD assessment is expensive, as is the follow-up care. Some clinics have long waiting lists. Some people are dismissive of the diagnosis, ignorantly claiming that it’s a fad rather than an underdiagnosed condition, particularly in women. And then there’s the admin. Tyvense, and medications like it, are controlled drugs, so the rules around filling prescriptions are tight. Staying on top of it is a comically tough task for someone who’s clinically disorganised. To add to the ADHD management duties, my GP surgery can’t take over the prescription duties, so I’m hither and thither looking for scripts and trying to make sure I fill them on the correct dates. But I’ll do it, because something is working, and long may it last.