Undermined, used as shorthand for inattentiveness and blamed on TikTok, neurodiversity needs better care, not dismissal.
For Olivia, life was a cycle of never-ending chaos. Each morning began in the same unsettling way; she’d frantically turn her flat upside down in search of her keys. Running out to her car, already late for work, she’d often discover yet another parking ticket stuck to the windscreen. A further blow to her mammoth overdraft – that she seemed to live in at all times.
It wasn’t a coincidence that Olivia’s world was characterised by chaos. She was unknowingly living with the neurodevelopmental condition attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). The condition is categorised into two main behaviour types by the NHS: inattentiveness (difficulty concentrating and focusing) and hyperactivity and impulsiveness. On the surface, it may appear to be organisational disarray, restlessness or constant oversharing, but it’s so much more than that. An estimated 2.6 million people in the UK live with ADHD. Many are now being diagnosed later in life, partly thanks to greater awareness in recent years.
Conversations about the condition began getting louder during the pandemic – when experts suggested that lockdown stripped those of us with ADHD of our coping mechanisms, from daily structures to support circles and exercise, leading to a potential exacerbation of milder symptoms for some – particularly children. As we found ourselves increasingly online, the discussion rose to the fore on social media. The hashtag #ADHD has now garnered 26.7bn views on TikTok, allowing people a safe space to share their stories. Celebrities including Paris Hilton, Zooey Deschanel and Mel B have begun to publicly discuss how they live with the condition as well.
I certainly understand Olivia’s pain. Lockdown changed everything for me: after discovering communities online, I realised the issues I’d dealt with for years (emotional sensitivity, time blindness and debilitating insomnia) aligned with the traits of ADHD. But it wasn’t just one viral TikTok that led me towards seeking a diagnosis: it was a gradual process of slow realisation. After the best part of a year umming and ahing, I finally referred myself for a private assessment through Psychiatry UK in April 2021. I was diagnosed that November and cried at the news.
Diagnoses are on the up; the ADHD Foundation estimates a 400% increase in adult referrals since 2020. Prescription data from ADHD UK also shows that between 2015 to 2016 and 2021 to 2022, the number of patients prescribed with medication to treat their ADHD increased from 105,889 to 190,730 – an 80% leap. But there’s also been a backlash bubbling. Certain corners of the internet and some media commentators are suggesting this uptick in people seeking help is a
