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AAttention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is ubiquitous. A recent study found that disability payments for parents of children with ADHD and autism have increased by 40 percent since before the pandemic—a huge increase. Waiting lists for diagnoses are years long.
If you can survive the agonizing wait for a diagnosis, there is no guarantee you will get medication due to severe shortages and drug rationing. People find they reach the end of a years-long search for a diagnosis, only to find they are right back where they started. I should know—I am one of them.
I first learned about ADHD (or ADD, as it was called back then) the same way I learned about everything else in the early 2000s – through American cartoons. They presented a dystopian Brave new world of overdiagnosis and overmedicated children. Bobby Hill, Bart Simpson, the entire town of South Park – all had episodes where they were misdiagnosed with ADHD and heavily medicated, turning them into zombies. I’m ashamed when I look back on it now, but that was the dominant narrative of ADHD that I held onto into adulthood.
I had no idea what real ADHD felt like, so the thought that I might have it never occurred to me.
That was until my late twenties, just before the pandemic. I learned it from the place where I Now learn everything: Reddit. I stumbled upon a comment thread about ADHD. People were using terms like “executive dysfunction” and “hyperfocus.” I read more and more.
It felt like the last 15 minutes of a crime thriller. Things that I had thought were completely different parts of my personality were discussed as part of a unified whole. I looked at my life in a new light.
I thought about my constant restless legs syndrome. My lack of impulse control.
I thought about my school career. Endless detentions. Bad behaviour. Manic plans like trying to sell toasties in an abandoned gym.
I thought back to my time at university, when I was writing like mad on my dissertation in caffeine-fueled 24 hours, after every second I spent procrastinating that year had been a struggle.
I felt like I had found the Rosetta Stone for my own personality. I wanted to get a diagnosis as soon as possible so I could explore treatment options and medications. So… I did nothing for four years. Why? Because I have ADHD.
Asking someone who believes they have ADHD to begin a process that can take years on a waiting list is like an ironic, Twilight Zone-like punishment. And now, because of my procrastination, I’m dealing with what is probably the longest backlog for ADHD diagnosis in the history of the NHS.
I often hear that the rise in diagnoses is due to “trendy” misdiagnosis, whether to gain a perceived advantage or as an excuse for “laziness.” I don’t think the people making these claims are aware of the stigma and judgement that people with ADHD face.
I mentioned this anxiously to two consecutive managers about a year apart, and they both laughed. I don’t think they meant it in a bad way, they just honestly thought it was a joke. I pressed them and told them I was serious. They both said the same thing almost word for word: You don’t have ADHD. You just need to focus.
An important factor is the growing awareness of the disease. Acceptance does not just come gradually, but it develops over time. A turning point is reached when acceptance outweighs stigma and the dam breaks.
But lockdown has also been a time of deeper self-reflection. How many parents have had the opportunity to sit down and actually go through phonics or maths in a pseudo-classroom environment before? How many of those parents already suspected their children were different or struggling, but didn’t realise the impact of that until they had to scrutinise their learning and behaviour on this scale and in this type of environment?
When I first thought I might have ADHD, it stayed in the back of my mind until my son got older. He is hyperactive, very focused on what interests him, and decidedly unresponsive to anything that doesn’t interest him.
In other words, his behavior is exactly like mine at his age.
A few months before he started kindergarten, we had a conversation with his teacher. She asked if there was anything we should tell her about. We gently hinted that he might be neurodiverse – we suspected ADHD and that he might have difficulty concentrating.
The teacher was skeptical, even dismissive. She told us it was too early for a diagnosis (which is true) and that all the boys had a lot of energy.
At the end of his first week, two and a half days of school, she asked us to stay for a chat.
She asked if we had ever considered that he might have ADHD. She advised us to speak to our GP. She told us that the school was considering hiring an extra teacher to look after him and that they might need the extra funding that a diagnosis might bring.
My kindergarten also needed extra support with me. My mother came by every day to help me keep myself under control.
At first I was devastated. I could imagine him going through the same schooling as me. But she also talked about his sensory needs. About how to deal with him. In my previous life as a naughty child, such expressions were simply not part of our vocabulary.
Because I did well on tests, I never had any warning signs. I lived in this strange paradox: I was in the gifted programs, but I couldn’t tell time, tie my shoes, and couldn’t stop talking. I felt like there was something wrong with me. I wondered why I couldn’t behave.
I don’t want that for my son. Not because I don’t think children should be disciplined, but because if he is diagnosed with ADHD, I want him to be supported in developing the tools to help him control and regulate his own behavior – tools that I had to cobble together from scratch until I found a random Reddit thread on the cusp of my thirties.
Just imagine the sheer number of neurodiverse children who could have benefited enormously from a diagnosis and targeted support over the years, but instead were dismissed as naughty.
Think about the cumulative impact that has on an individual and on society over time. Anything we can do to change that is absolutely critical.
