Late-Diagnosis ADHD Isn’t an Excuse. It’s an Evolution.

For those of us with late-diagnosed ADHD or other neurodivergent identities, it’s easy to feel like we have something to prove. People see flashes of brilliance, bursts of energy, moments where we "seem fine." They assume the diagnosis is a postscript - a convenient label to excuse what they interpret as laziness, incompetence, or drama.

But those assumptions erase the truth.

I struggled to get through college on a traditional timeline. Here's my graduation, Summa Cum Laude, in my thirties.

Yes, I masked. Yes, I succeeded - sometimes wildly - sometimes. But for every high-functioning sprint, there was a collapse. For every project completed in a passionate whirlwind, there was a pile of dishes, a missed deadline, a meltdown. I wasn’t diagnosed because I wanted to make excuses. I was diagnosed because I couldn’t keep up the act anymore.

I’m not alone.

As a neurodivergent adult, I now understand that executive function challenges aren’t moral failings. They’re neurological realities. I struggle with repetitive tasks. I get overwhelmed by finances. But I also get lit up by big ideas. I care deeply. I see systems clearly. I imagine possibilities that others haven’t even named yet.

And I’ve come to believe this: Neurodivergence is not a disorder. It’s an adaptation.

As the speed of culture, technology, and information accelerates, some of us are evolving in real time. We’re not malfunctioning—we’re specializing. The problem isn’t our wiring. The problem is that the old systems weren’t designed for brains like ours.

Maybe it’s time the old systems aren't standard anymore.

It’s not that I want to dismantle everything. It’s okay to have a comfort object—we all have them. That old belief system, that predictable structure, that cultural routine? It might be your teddy bear. And that’s okay. But if it’s moldy, full of germs, and making you sick, maybe it’s time to let it go. Or at least wash it and rethink where it fits in your life. Because while you cling to tradition out of fear, those of us who are neurodivergent aren’t asking to be coddled - we’re asking to breathe. To build new systems that don’t make us hide, shrink, or break just to survive.

It's time to let go (or at least clean up) unhealthy security objects and ideas.

Maybe it’s not the neurodivergent people who are asking for special treatment. Maybe it’s the people clinging to outdated structures who are scared. Scared of change. Scared of being irrelevant. Scared of letting go. They grip their mossy little teddy bears of tradition, whispering lullabies to a world that’s already moved on.

We’ve been kind. We’ve been patient. But we are allowed—required, even—to start setting boundaries. Not just in our personal lives, but in the larger systems that shape our schools, our workplaces, our relationships.

I’m not asking for pity. I’m calling for a paradigm shift.

---

If this post resonates with you, please consider:

Reading "The Ant and The Grasshopper: an Updated Fable" or "Words I Contain," both published in the Tinderbox section of Byrne Alive.

Checking out the NeuroX Collection in the Smuggled Sparks Store.