The Exhausting Art of Appearing Normal: Grief, Relief, and My Late ADHD Diagnosis

By Lisa King, LPC

I remember the meeting vividly, even though I was just in elementary school. My parents were frustrated. I had been missing too much school, constantly complaining of stomachaches and “feeling sick.”

It started early—around first or second grade. I was the child who couldn't stop talking to my neighbors when the teacher was speaking. I wasn't trying to be disrespectful; the words just bubbled out of me before I could catch them. And then there was math.

From those earliest years, numbers felt like a foreign language I couldn't crack. I struggled with math through every single grade, fighting a losing battle all the way until college, when my brain finally developed enough to make sense of it.

But back then, my teachers and parents didn't see a struggling brain; they saw a behavioral problem. My parents eventually met with my principal to find a solution to my "chronic truancy." The solution they agreed upon was devastating: The next time I claimed to be sick to avoid school, the principal had permission to paddle me. In their eyes, I was manipulative and defiant. Decades later, looking back with the knowledge I have now, I see a little girl who was drowning.

The Hidden Diagnosis: Why We Missed It

Believe it or not, I wasn't diagnosed with ADHD until very recently.

For years, my personal healing journey focused strictly on complex trauma and attachment. Because I had such a profound history of feeling deprioritized and unsafe, we assumed my scattered focus and anxiety were solely symptoms of a dysregulated nervous system.

My current psychiatrist, whom I absolutely love, actually mentioned the possibility of ADHD years ago. I was complaining about cognitive issues—struggling to allow my mind to focus on things I genuinely wanted to focus on. But at the time, I wasn't ready to see it.

It wasn't until recently that I approached him again. I realized my mind was constantly jumping ahead, moving faster than I could keep up with. My thoughts were becoming louder and louder, a cacophony I couldn't control. It wasn't just "trauma noise"; it was a wiring issue.

The "Hyperactive Mind" Myth

One of the biggest misconceptions about ADHD—and one reason I went undiagnosed for so long—is the idea that you have to be physically bouncing off the walls to have it.

ADHD is not just about the inability to sit still; it is about the inability of the mind to sit still.

For many of us, especially women or those with the "Inattentive" presentation, the hyperactivity is internalized. It isn't energy in the body; it is energy in the mind. It is a brain that has twenty tabs open, three of them are frozen, and music is playing from somewhere you can't find.

Research on Executive Function shows that this internal restlessness is often more exhausting than physical movement. We are constantly expending massive amounts of glucose (brain energy) just to inhibit our thoughts, filter out sensory distractions, and appear "calm" on the outside.

The Grief and Relief of a Late Diagnosis

Getting this diagnosis later in life has been a double-edged sword.

On one hand, it is the ultimate relief. Suddenly, the puzzle pieces fit. The "faking sick" in elementary school wasn't manipulation; it was Executive Function Fatigue. I was avoiding the shame of failing at math again and the exhaustion of trying to control my impulses to talk. I wasn't a "bad kid"; I was a neurodivergent kid with zero support.

On the other hand, there is profound grief.

I look back at that younger version of myself with so much sadness. I wish I had known then what I know now. I wish I could tell my parents and teachers, "I'm not trying to be difficult. I'm trying twice as hard as everyone else just to look half as normal."

Navigating the complexities of the school system requires a "masking" tax. We spend so much energy trying to fit into a neurotypical box that we have nothing left for learning—or for joy.

Conclusion: It's Never "Just" Behavior

If you are looking at a child who is struggling to prioritize tasks, who talks when they shouldn't, who "fakes sick" to avoid math class, or whose emotions seem to explode out of nowhere—please look deeper.

Behavior is communication.

Whether it is the fracture of insecure attachment, the avoidance of anxiety, or the racing thoughts of undiagnosed ADHD, that child is doing the best they can with the tools they have.

Recognizing these patterns early can save a child from decades of shame. But even if you are recognizing them late, like I am, know this: It is never too late to understand your own story. It is never too late to offer that younger version of yourself the compassion they deserved all along.

References & Further Reading

• Barkley, R. A. (1997). ADHD and the Nature of Self-Control. (Discusses how ADHD is largely a disorder of inhibition and executive function, not just attention).

• Brown, T. E. (2005). Attention Deficit Disorder: The Unfocused Mind in Children and Adults. (Explores the "energy of the mind" concept and cognitive fatigue).

• Mate, G. (1999). Scattered Minds: The Origins and Healing of Attention Deficit Disorder. (Examines the intersection of attachment, trauma, and ADHD).