LITTLE BOYS HANGING out of trees, losing their homework and being disruptive in class. That’s what ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) was, as far as I was concerned.
I had seen segments about it on TV. The disorder (formerly known as ADD or Attention Deficit Disorder) was featured on Oprah when I was at home sick from school in the 90s. In any fleeting thought I might have given to the matter, I brushed it off as an example of the Americanisation of culture, everyone had to have SOMETHING different about themselves.
Adderall, a drug commonly prescribed to treat ADHD, was familiar to me as a plot line in Desperate Housewives. The character Lynette Scavo took it illicitly to give her the energy needed to sustain the duties of a mother trying to have it all (a fool’s errand Lynette, we’ve been sold a pup there).
We sat around in our student residence in the early 2000s glued to the drama every week, four of us squashed into the uncomfortable sofa (was it ever professionally cleaned between tenants? Oh the tales that upholstery could tell).
Dr Phil once had a delightfully named segment ‘Is ADHD caused by Poor Parenting or Watching too much TV?’ (Spoiler alert – it’s not. Whilst we might be keen to blame many of life’s outcomes on shoddy work by our parents, genetic manipulation is probably a stretch).
During Covid lockdown, many of our routines and habits changed or even disappeared. For me, seeing the combination of trying to work from home full-time with no childcare, cancelled fertility procedures and the constant need to scrub any can of beans that crossed our threshold was too much.
I saw videos on social media about women with ADHD and was shocked that they felt the need to describe some of their symptoms and behaviours (doesn’t everyone constantly play piano on their knees under the desks in meetings?).
They were calling out things that I recognised in myself, things I assumed were just boring, regular human things.
Didn’t we all have 700 ideas banging around against each other in our pinball machine heads all of the time? Random cringe memories, self-criticism, a punchline you really like, that very catchy jingle from an ad for bread in the 90s, a totally normal soundtrack to your life, right? I just did a worse job of pretending than everyone else.
Like many good girls raised in the Leaving Cert system, I understood that points mean prizes and more importantly, praise. Praise means a dopamine hit, something I crave. Except that I wasn’t always a good girl. I was impulsive, and whilst I could get As in subjects that interested me, I was writing sonnets about Boyzone in the classes that didn’t. (This is a true story, the notebook of evidence was recently found in my attic. I will one day bequeath it to the state as a beacon of hope to adolescents everywhere – you have not sunk as low as this turn-of-the-century teen).
I was always busy; staying on the move distracted me from the incessant movement in my own brain. Another club to join? A committee to get elected to? I was bouncing my way to the top of the queue. Until I wasn’t until I was so exhausted that I cried with tiredness preparing late into the night for a school debating competition because I just had too much to do.
At 14 years old I felt exhausted, but the rush I got from doing ‘all the things,’ was what kept me going. I wasn’t about to stop.
When Covid forced things to a halt, I decided to investigate the chaos in my head further and took an appointment at a psychiatrist’s private clinic (very aware then as now what a privilege it is to be able to pay for such a service; public waiting lists can run into years). My diagnosis was confirmed and I became one of the people who are often disparagingly referred to as having diagnosed themselves via social media. Although we should exercise caution on any medical advice being given by those whose credentials we can’t verify, social media has provided support and space to discuss ADHD in women, as it has often been overlooked.
I’ve been lucky that my GP has been extremely supportive. That is not the experience shared in online support groups by many women in Ireland.
ADHD Ireland confirms that ADHD is more frequently diagnosed in boys than girls. About one third of those attending CAMHS (the HSE’s Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services) are being assessed for ADHD. For many years, it was not believed that women and girls could even have ADHD. We often develop better coping strategies to hide or mask our symptoms.
Of the different versions of ADHD, women and girls are more likely to be diagnosed with the inattentive version, rather than hyperactive. This means that many of the symptoms associated with ADHD in boys can be less present in girls. If you throw into the mix any coexisting conditions like depression or anxiety (not unimaginable given the struggles of trying to function in a world not set up for the way your brain is wired), ADHD is often completely missed. A Canadian study in 2021, found that 23.5% of women with ADHD had attempted suicide compared with just 3.3.% of women without ADHD. As in many areas of health there is less study done on women. For more rage-inducing reading on this topic, I highly recommend Caroline Criando Perez.
I try to focus on the aspects of ADHD that I value: the energy and the ability to quickly make connections are so helpful with creativity and problem-solving. Having a diagnosis has allowed me to be more empathetic towards the things I struggle with (I’m just never going to have a tidy wardrobe, and I’m unlikely to ever achieve minimalism in anything I do. Sensory overwhelm is very real and it’s not my fault).
I’m grateful to have this information about myself; it’s been like being handed a user guide that someone threw into a drawer at the time of purchase, assuming we’d just figure it out.
It doesn’t change how my brain works, but it helps me understand what it does and put systems in place to bring out its best. I’m also still very much figuring all of this out.
Everyone’s experience of the condition is different, but there is one commonality. If ADHD is left untreated, it can have very serious consequences. Treatment can mean many things: medication, occupational therapy, coaching, talk therapy and accommodation in the workplace or the educational environment. There’s a lot more to be done to make these supports available in Ireland, but as more women are diagnosed, and speak publicly about it, we can challenge the stereotypes so many of us hold and hold our health system to account.
Louisa Ní Éideáin’s Dopa – Mean Girl is showing at the Black Box in Smock Alley until 16 September. For the last tickets remaining, see fringefest.com.
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