So much of what we know about ADHD is shockingly new. The condition wasn’t even coined as a diagnosis until 1987, having been known as ADD (attention deficit disorder) since 1980, and before then, ‘hyperkinetic reaction of childhood’. However, the traits had been recognised for decades, even centuries beforehand, and described in medical literature since 1775 – but ignored as “an abnormal defect of moral control”, as Britain’s chief paediatrician Sir George Still put it in 1902.

Scientists have applied diagnostic criteria retroactively, highlighting that traits of ADHD were evident in real and fictional figures including Leonardo da Vinci (terrible finances, unfinished projects, procrastination, restlessness), Anne of Green Gables’ Anne Shirley (impulsive, restless, daydreaming) and the children in Jan Steen’s 17th century painting The Village School. Today, diagnostic criteria is sufficiently robust that I see it all around me: in my Gilmore Girls and Tuca And Bertie rewatches, or in interviews with public figures who may still have no idea they possibly could have it, even as I recognise their behaviour. 

When I got my diagnosis, I finally understood the cliche about puzzle pieces falling into place. To have this understanding about myself – an explanation, not an excuse – felt almost magical. But it has also been hard. Medication is the primary treatment for ADHD, usually methylphenidate (sometimes called Ritalin), which has been used to treat the condition since 1955. If methylphenidate isn’t right for you, it can take time to find the right dose and meds. I spent a year trying to get my treatment right, and now take a stimulant called dexamfetamine and a non-stimulant called atomoxetine. My medication is reappraised every six months at appointments I pay £200 a pop for. Thankfully, once I was stable on this regime, I was released into a shared care agreement with my GP, which means I can have my meds through the NHS. As I have multiple prescriptions, I pay £111.60 for an annual prepayment certificate, which saves me at least £235.90 a year.

While medication has helped me in terms of focus and task completion, there were also all sorts of skills I needed to learn after my ADHD diagnosis.  Professor Philip Asherson, who co-wrote the 2008 NICE guidelines on adult ADHD, told me about the “golden triangle” of treatment: medication as the most widely tested treatment; therapy to process the past; and coaching to learn skills for the future.

Frustratingly, this means it’s also down to you to create your own “golden triangle” treatment plan. While accredited therapists can be found through the professional body BACP (the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy) there is no such equivalent for ADHD coaching. My Discover page on Instagram is filled with people advertising their coaching programmes, and it’s very hard to tell who’s a professional and who’s a grifter with a coaching certificate they printed out themselves.

For this reason, I looked elsewhere for resources to help me better manage my life. What ended up helping most was simple: a second-hand smartwatch off eBay, so I get haptic reminders about upcoming events. Thanks to the ADHD-friendly BBC One series Sort Your Life Out, I have organised my home so my mind isn’t pinging off clutter and everything has its place. I put on a song and do a task like emptying the dishwasher, which has a clear beginning and end and feels satisfying to complete. I can find it difficult to concentrate on audio, so I listen when I’m doing something physical: while driving, gardening or walking, I listen to the ADHD Experts podcast, which has researchers and clinicians offering the latest advice in an accessible format.

I accept that I will fall out of love with hobbies, tools, and habits, so rather than beating myself up about it, I find something else to try instead. The ones that stick tend to be ones I really love, as well as those that are useful. Above all, I find community helps, whether through Instagram, WhatsApp, and support groups. The ADHD AF podcast has a huge Discord community, and the ADHD Babes network offers excellent support for Black women and non-binary people.

 It can feel exciting to have a new diagnosis, but it can also feel lonely. A thought that helps me is that I am part of a period of discovery that will massively help people down the line. In sharing our stories about what has helped us, we can reach people who didn’t even know there was a bigger picture – or a diagnosis – to be looking for. People with ADHD are not broken. We are not weird. We are people who have been playing life on hard mode without realising it. We are exceptional. 

It’s Not A Bloody Trend: Understanding Life As An ADHD Adult (£14.99, Robinson) is out next month.

“What’s it like to have untreated ADHD? Chaotic and isolating, so please don’t tell me it’s a trend or an excuse”