Neurotypicals make it seem so easy. They head to the gym at the crack of dawn, get all their chores done before their eight hour shift, and then proceed to go on their third night out in a row. Some days I struggle to even get one thing ticked off my to-do list, days where washing my hair will be the most productive thing I do. Since comparison is the devil, I try not to compare how my days pan out to other people’s, but what can be a lot for me seems to be fine for others. In the fable of the tortoise and the hare, I feel like both the tortoise and the hare. I can get everything I’ve been putting off for weeks completed in one day, racing to the end, but it can also take me a lifetime to reply to an email. Although I often need more time than most, I will nonetheless cross that finish line eventually.
Neurodivergent women in particular battle with a lot of stereotypes that are in the mainstream media. People associate ADHD with hyperactive boys who don’t get good grades in school. But ADHD in women presents very differently to men, leaning towards inattentiveness rather than hyperactivity. It is estimated that 50-75% of the one million women in the UK with ADHD are undiagnosed.
Not only do so many women get misdiagnosed or diagnosed extremely late in their life because of these cultural misconceptions, but we mask a lot of the well-known traits. Masking is an act of camouflaging: it is where neurodivergent people hide or subdue their traits to appear more neurotypical, and a lot of the time we don’t even mean to do it. I never understood why I would be so exhausted after social interactions until I learnt about masking; it takes a lot of energy and concentration to be socially present, especially if you are already in an overstimulating situation. When you’ve been masking for so long, you find yourself catering to other people, and people can be surprised when they find out you have ADHD or they seem to forget you do even after telling them.
When it comes to my ADHD, I don’t want it to define me because I know I am just as capable as anyone else. Yet I still can’t help but feel like a walking and talking robot who needs to be charged after so long. It is frustrating when neurotypicals misunderstand my neurodivergence and my boundaries as flaws that I can work on. To meet other people’s (neurotypical) standards would mean to mentally run myself into the ground. I know my limitations, despite people who turn a blind eye to them.