Sensory Soul

For most of my life, I’ve carried a quiet question in the back of my mind: Why is everything so hard for me when it seems so easy for everyone else? I didn’t have the words for it growing up, and I certainly didn’t have the tools. But recently, in my forties, I was diagnosed with ADHD and suddenly, it all made sense. I am also awaiting an Autism assessment.

The diagnosis didn’t change who I am, but it gave me a new lens to look through. A kinder one. A lens that offered understanding instead of judgment.

Looking Back: The Struggles I Didn’t Understand

As a kid, I was labeled everything from “daydreamer” to “lazy.” I was always losing things, forgetting homework, zoning out in class. Teachers thought I wasn’t trying hard enough. I thought they were probably right.

What they didn’t see was how hard I was trying. How my brain would buzz with a million thoughts at once. How I’d start a project full of energy, only to hit a wall of mental fog I couldn’t explain. How overwhelmed I felt by things that didn’t seem to bother anyone else.

I wasn’t unmotivated or careless, I was undiagnosed.

Adulthood Didn’t Magically Fix It

I always thought I’d “grow out of it,” whatever it was. Spoiler: I didn’t.

Adult life brought its own challenges managing time, staying organized, remembering appointments, starting and finishing tasks. Juggling work, relationships, and everyday responsibilities felt like a constant uphill climb.

I blamed myself for a long time. Why couldn’t I just get it together?

Turns out, I wasn’t broken, I was just wired differently.

The Diagnosis: Relief, Grief, and Everything In Between

When I finally got diagnosed, I felt a strange mix of emotions. I burst into tears! Relief that I wasn’t imagining it. Validation that there was a reason for my struggles. But also grief for the years spent thinking I was somehow not enough. For the little kid who was trying her best and didn’t know why it wasn’t working.

Getting a diagnosis in midlife isn’t the end of the story, it’s the beginning of a new one. It’s a chance to go back and rewrite the narrative. To stop seeing myself as a mess and start seeing myself as a human who was doing the best she could with what she had.

What I Know Now

I’ve learned that ADHD isn’t a character flaw—it’s a neurological difference. I’ve started to explore strategies and supports that actually work for me, not against me. I’m giving myself permission to do things differently. To rest when I need to. To ask for help. To stop measuring myself by neurotypical standards.

And most of all, I’ve started to show myself the compassion I needed decades ago.

To Anyone Reading This

If you’ve ever felt like you’re always one step behind, like life is harder for you than it should be, know this: You’re not lazy. You’re not broken. And it’s never too late to understand yourself more fully.

Getting diagnosed with ADHD in my forties didn’t fix everything. But it gave me answers. It gave me tools. And it gave me hope.

That’s more than I ever thought I’d have and it’s just the beginning.