Because We’re Human: Coming Out Of The Neurodivergent Closet

Estimated reading time: 7 minutes

I believe that sharing our experiences with one another can be healing and help others feel seen.

Before I begin, it’s important you know what ADHD is:

ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) is a neurodevelopmental condition that affects the brain’s ability to regulate attention, impulse control, and activity levels. It is linked to differences in brain structure and function, particularly in areas responsible for executive functioning, with imbalances in neurotransmitters like dopamine and norepinephrine impacting focus, self-control, and emotional regulation.

ADHD has three main types:

Hyperactive-Impulsive is marked by restlessness, impulsivity, and constant movement, making it hard to sit still or wait patiently.

Inattentive involves difficulty focusing, organizing, and remembering details, but can also include intense hyperfocus on certain tasks, extreme attention to detail, emotional & sensory sensitivity.

Combined includes symptoms of both, with challenges in attention, impulse control, hyperactivity, and the emotional and mental exhaustion that comes from balancing hyperfocus, distraction, and heightened emotional awareness.

ADHD symptoms exist on a spectrum, encompassing a wide range of experiences beyond those commonly recognized. Each individual’s experience with ADHD is unique.

Now that you have a foundation, and you’ve probably gathered this is about me having ADHD, let’s find out how I even got here, let’s begin.

Most of my life, I resisted myself. The constant chatter in my brain that never stopped. The relentless hum of anxiety—not something that disappeared but something I had to carefully manage every single day. The hyperfocus that pulled me in so deeply, only to be disrupted by the smallest distraction. The constant difficulty to organize my thoughts because there were so many pouring in simultaneously. The constant need for stimulation. At the same time, the exhaustion from overstimulation. The need to ask endless questions—not to challenge others, but to understand everything from every angle because if I didn’t do this my brain felt uneasy. The hypersensitivity. The constant restlessness. The mental preparation required before every social interaction and then the need to recharge deeply because of the exhaustion from it. The subtle shifts in details that others missed but were glaringly obvious to me. All of this—and more—felt like it was on overdrive. This was my “normal.”

At times, it was paralyzing. Frequent misunderstandings would happen, which would then lead to an immense amount of guilt and shame. Then there were those who would often point out how I was “different,” usually in a joking way. At first, I laughed along. Why not? It was funny, but over time as I began hearing this from numerous people, the comments lost their humor. They became offensive and hurtful. To avoid the judgment, I made it my mission to quietly hide these parts of myself, keeping them locked away so I could blend in.

When I was younger, I turned to alcohol to quiet the noise, dull the overwhelm, and feel like I fit in. I didn’t realize then that I was trying to cope with far more than just my emotions or a need to belong. I would later found out, I was also trying to deal with my ADHD.

In 2018, I made the decision to quit alcohol. I was out of control, making irresponsible decisions, and living without boundaries. Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of fun times, but they were often followed by “What the hell are you doing?” moments. One or two of those I could handle, but after far too many, I knew it was time to focus on drinking water instead. Plus, this was not a healthy way to cope with challenges.

In the first few years of sobriety, I felt better because I wasn’t drinking, but the unexplainable anxiety and overwhelming feelings still lingered. On top of that, a year or two before quitting, I had come out as queer, adding another layer of complexity to my journey and amplifying the relentless mental chatter. It started to feel like, if it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Trying to fit into a mold I was never meant to fill was becoming exhausting.

I knew I needed help so I began therapy in 2019. I very slowly began removing pieces of layers that covered up the hurt, fear, sadness, all the emotions I didn’t know how to feel or manage. It was a rough time. I saw this therapist for about three years and some how, she never mentioned anything about possibly being neurodivergent. I’ll be honest though, how could she point it out, if even with her, I was still hiding parts of myself.

Fast forward to 2022, someone close to me—a mental health professional who understood, saw and experienced all my “different” ways of navigating the world—said, “You have ADHD.” My first reaction was, “That can’t be right—I’m not hyperactive.” Like many, I assumed ADHD was all about physical energy, being late, and being disorganized. At that moment, I brushed it off but kept it tucked in the back of my mind.

From that moment on, I periodically began researching and learning more. I came to understand that ADHD is so much more than the stereotypes I had grown up with. It exists on a spectrum, and how it manifests can look very different from person to person. The more I educated myself, the more I began to recognize how many of my own struggles aligned with ADHD symptoms. Slowly, the pieces started to fall into place, and I found myself wondering, “What if they were right? What if I really do have ADHD?”

During the summer of 2024, for my 40th birthday, I decided to gift myself peace of mind and finally went for an assessment. The process lasted two hours, filled with countless questions and being closely observed as I answered. It was slightly uncomfortable, especially knowing I had to be 100 percent honest about my experiences.

A few moments after answering the final question, the assessor confirmed, “You have ADHD.” I was shocked. Two weeks later, I received my official report, complete with detailed explanations of why and how, along with additional resources for support.

At first I accepted it. Then I was in denial about. Then I realized I need to allow myself time to truly process it. Questions flooded my mind: ‘How could I not have known? What if I’d known this sooner? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Would I have struggled less?’. But as I began to embrace it, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. All those years of trying so hard to act “normal,” being endlessly hard on myself, and pushing through exhaustion—it all made sense. My brain simply works differently.

What I didn’t realize until now is how common my story is. ADHD in women often goes undiagnosed, sometimes for decades. Studies show that women with ADHD are frequently overlooked because they are less likely to exhibit the stereotypical “hyperactive” symptoms that are more obvious in boys and men. Instead, ADHD in women often presents as chronic anxiety, emotional dysregulation, forgetfulness, or feeling perpetually overwhelmed. Many of us learn to mask these struggles, internalizing them instead of seeking help. It is also true, you might have sought out the help, but the professional wasn’t helpful and missed all the signs. And if you don’t know, how can you even mention this, right? This is why women are more likely to be diagnosed with depression or anxiety before ADHD is even considered.

For years, I thought I was simply flawed—that I wasn’t trying hard enough, wasn’t disciplined enough, wasn’t “normal.” But the truth is, I wasn’t broken; I was just different. It’s as if I found the missing piece to a puzzle, I didn’t know I was trying to solve my entire life. That piece has finally made everything make sense.

Now that I’ve embraced my ADHD, I’ve come to see it as a gift—especially in my work as The Textureologist. My ability to hyperfocus allows me to pour my full attention into understanding the complexities of natural textured hair and the individuality of my clients. My need to ask endless questions gives me the drive to seek solutions that others might overlook, ensuring I can approach hair care from a unique, 360-degree perspective. My sensitivity helps me connect with my clients on a deeper level, picking up on their needs even when they don’t voice them outright. And my brain’s constant drive for creativity and innovation pushes me to think outside the box, developing techniques and routines that truly honor the beauty of natural, curly, coily, and kinky hair.

Managing my ADHD hasn’t been a single moment of realization—it’s been an ongoing journey. Working with my new therapist has been a cornerstone, helping me untangle years of masking, self-criticism, and overwhelm. I’ve made significant lifestyle changes, too, focusing on eating foods that support brain health and ADHD, incorporating herbs that help with focus and anxiety, and intentionally creating space for mindfulness. Creating systems—routines and structures to keep me organized and grounded.

ADHD hasn’t just shaped my challenges, it’s also shaped my strengths. It’s allowed me to build a career where I can fully embrace the way my brain works and in my personal life, I get to experience the world on “high definition”. I absolutely would not want to change it.

If any part of my story resonates with you—whether it’s about neurodivergence, identity, or simply navigating life—I encourage you to seek support, an assessment, or professional advice. It could be the start of a new chapter where you feel seen, understood, and truly at peace with yourself. You’re not alone. Understanding your brain, emotions, and patterns can be the first step toward embracing the person you’ve always been.

Being neurodivergent is not something to be ashamed of because before anything, we are all human—it’s simply a different way of experiencing and interacting with the world. It brings unique perspectives, strengths, and creativity, and embracing it means celebrating the richness of diversity in how we all think and live.

💜