Tag: latediagnosedadhd

  • The Initial Post-Diagnosis Years pt. 4

    The Side Effects Roll In

    As the weeks went by, I started noticing side effects.

    • Migraines – If I didn’t drink enough water or eat enough protein before taking my meds, I’d get a splitting headache.
    • Sleep Issues – Even if I took the stimulant at 6 AM, I still wouldn’t be able to fall asleep until 3 AM.

    Then, the aggression kicked in.

    One evening, I felt an unbreakable, angry drive to finish something. I was irritated by everything that tried to pull my focus. It didn’t feel like me at all.

    I finally understood what my son had described the night he broke down.

    Needless to say, I switched to an amphetamine-based stimulant. And just like that, the aggression faded.

    With my doctor’s guidance, I experimented with several amphetamines to optimize my sleep schedule and minimize side effects. Things improved, but migraines were still an issue—especially if I wasn’t careful about hydration and diet.

    I started taking meds only on the days I really needed them, which helped. Things were finally settling in.

    But little did I know—everything was about to change again.

    • What’s the most frustrating ADHD medication side effect you’ve dealt with? Did you find a way to manage it?
    • How do you balance the benefits of ADHD medication with the potential downsides?
    • Do you manage your ADHD without medication? What methods and/or supplements work well for you?

  • The Initial Post-Diagnosis Years pt. 3

    Starting My Own Medication Trial

    Through all of this, I held onto one crucial piece of advice from my son’s specialist:

    “ADHD medication should make you feel like yourself—just calmer and more focused. If you feel anxious, angry, or unlike yourself, there are many other alternatives to try.”

    That stuck with me as I began my own stimulant trial. It also made me understand why so many people are hesitant to try ADHD meds—I had already seen the worst of the side effects up close.

    The first few months on medication felt potentially life-changing. I had chemical blinders for my brain! Suddenly, I could filter out distractions and actually complete tasks. My mind—usually a chaotic swirl of half-finished thoughts—was, dare I say, quiet.

    But with relief came a flood of regret. I kept thinking: What if I had known this sooner? How different would my life have been if I had access to this kind of support when I was younger? The weight of those thoughts was heavy.

    I couldn’t rewrite the past, but I could take control of what happened next.

    Like my son, I had to go through trial and error before finding the right fit. While he was reaching his limit on methylphenidate, I was just getting started on it.

    The clarity was indescribable. I had no idea my brain was capable of single focus and sustained attention. Until that day, I couldn’t even read a single page without my mind wandering—unless I was completely dialed into the story.

    I had to test my new ability. I picked up an old textbook (for fun?!?), read an entire chapter, and retained all of it. Mind. Blown. I was immediately jealous of neurotypical brains and finally understood why I struggled so much in my youth.

    • If you’ve tried ADHD medication, what was the most surprising effect—good or bad?
    • Have you ever had to switch medications due to unexpected side effects? How did you know it was time to try something different?
    • What’s one piece of advice you wish you had when you first started ADHD treatment?

  • The Initial Post-Diagnosis Years pt. 2

    Trial and Error

    The first stimulant my son tried turned his academic world on its head. As I mentioned in the “part 3” post about his diagnosis, he couldn’t believe how easy it was to focus and think more “linearly” with his first dose. That prescription worked well for him for about six months.

    What I didn’t see was the side effects creeping in. At first, he hesitated to tell me how he was feeling. The changes were slow, subtle—he didn’t have the words to describe them. But over time, the drive to finish something, no matter the circumstances, took over. He started feeling aggression and, worse, suicidal ideation.

    Despite my open-door approach to emotions, he kept these feelings bottled up—afraid that speaking up might cost him his newfound academic success. Until one night, he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

    He was nine years old. Normally, he was easygoing and rarely got too upset. But that evening, he was inconsolable, sobbing uncontrollably. At first, he couldn’t even tell me why. I pulled him into my lap, held him tightly, and just let him cry. After what felt like hours, he finally caught his breath. And then, in the smallest voice, he told me:

    “Mom, you need to keep sharp objects away from me.”

    My heart stopped. I felt numb, but I knew I had to stay calm. Gently, I asked him why.

    He confessed that he had been feeling like making mistakes was inexcusable—that he needed to punish himself if he got something wrong. And not just punished—he felt he might as well die if he didn’t get something right.

    In my head, I was screaming. Frightened. Angry. How could my little boy—so young, so innocent—be feeling like this? Where did this belief come from? I had always encouraged growth through mistakes. Lots of mistakes. Never perfection.

    The next day, we saw his specialist. He immediately stopped taking his medication for two weeks. Within a day of being off it, he started feeling like himself again—I was relieved beyond words. But I was still shaken to my core.

    His doctor suggested trying a different prescription—this time, an amphetamine-based stimulant instead of the methylphenidate he was initially prescribed. We agreed, but with extreme caution. This time, I monitored him closely and checked in with him often about his emotional well-being. 

    Thankfully, we found the right fit. It took trial and error, but for the past seven years, he’s been doing incredibly well on his medication—and seeing him succeed has been everything.

    • If you or a loved one has gone through an ADHD medication trial, what was the biggest challenge?
    • How do you navigate conversations about mental health and medication with your kids or family members?
    • Were you or a family member hesitant to try stimulant medication? If you were and decided to try them, did your perspective change? 
  • The Initial Post-Diagnosis Years

    The Initial Post-Diagnosis Years

    Acceptance and Next Steps

    My ADHD diagnosis brought a wave of relief—along with plenty of regret, as I described in my Late-Diagnosed ADHD entry. Finally, I could let go of so many negative thoughts about myself and my perceived shortcomings. And with stimulant medication? It was a game-changer. The difference was astonishing. I finally understood what it felt like to focus like a neurotypical person—and honestly, I was jealous.

    But finding the right medication wasn’t instant. It took trial and error, something my son had already been through before me. His experience shaped my understanding of what to expect and made me more aware of the risks and challenges that come with ADHD treatment.

    • If you’ve been diagnosed with ADHD as an adult, did you experience an initial wave of regret or relief—or both?
    • What’s something you learned about yourself post-diagnosis that completely changed your perspective?
    • Have you ever felt frustrated after discovering how different life could have been with earlier support? How do you cope with those feelings?
  • Late Diagnosed ADHD and Me pt. 2

    Late Diagnosed ADHD and Me pt. 2

    Cracks in the System

    Being a mom is bar none the most rewarding job I had ever held—and by far the most overwhelming. My intense focus on my son’s physical, cognitive, emotional, and social development left little capacity for household management and self-care. I chalked it up to first-time parenthood, a lack of nearby support, and living in a metropolitan area filled with young professionals. My closest friends lived at least an hour away, none of them had kids, and family members who could help were on the other side of the continent. I told myself what I was experiencing was completely normal for my situation.

    Or was it?

    As the rigorous schedule of early babyhood eased, the gaps in my executive functioning became undeniable. The perpetual piles of clean, unfolded laundry. The blur of scheduled and unscheduled enrichment activities. The constant feeling of being more than a little out of step with cleaning, organization, and budgeting. These weren’t just growing pains—they were signs.

    By the time my son received his diagnosis, I had convinced myself that parenthood simply meant existing in this constant state of barely managed chaos. I often wondered how working moms pulled it off, thinking back to colleagues who seemed to juggle everything with ease. Looking back, there’s no doubt in my mind that my ability to parent would have been drastically compromised if I had gone back to work. And let’s be honest, my home would’ve been in even worse shape.

    • What routines or expectations did you find yourself struggling with as a new parent?
    • Have you ever misattributed your struggles to external circumstances, only to later realize they were signs of something more?
  • Late-Diagnosed ADHD and Me

    Late-Diagnosed ADHD and Me

    The Mirror of Motherhood

    This part of my story likely feels familiar to so many late-diagnosed women with school-aged kids. Watching our children navigate behaviors that pointed to ADHD often brought back vivid memories of our own struggles in school. Like my son, I had been labeled “very bright” but found it difficult to thrive in a traditional classroom. I could see myself in his silly, impulsive actions, his chatterbox tendencies, his intense focus on certain subjects, and his complete disengagement with anything boring.

    At first, I dismissed it as normal kid behavior. After all, wasn’t I like that as a child too? But as his diagnosis became clearer, a little voice inside me asked: What if this isn’t just about him?

    When I first suspected my son was neurodivergent, I dove into research. Many of the signs and symptoms I read about felt familiar—his struggles mirrored my own. Yet, I chalked it up to “typical kid behavior.” Besides, I’d done okay, hadn’t I? I’d managed to earn decent grades in college, especially in the subjects I loved. I’d even thrived in the corporate world—collaborating well with colleagues, meeting deadlines, and steadily climbing the ladder.

    But the cracks in what I thought was a carefully managed system became clearer when I left the workforce to become a stay-at-home mom. Initially, the plan was to return to work, hire a nanny, or try daycare. But once I met my baby and settled into our routine, that went out the window. I loved working directly with my new boss and decided to embrace this role full-time. Fortunately, we were in a position that allowed me to make that choice.

    • If you’re a parent, have you ever seen your own behaviors or tendencies reflected in your child? How did it make you feel?
    • What was your initial reaction when you learned your child might be neurodivergent?