I'm still digesting the unexpected surprise that was my ADD diagnosis last year (I'll tell you more about that in a moment). here) But why was it so surprising?
The truth is that I've been given many diagnoses: anxiety, depression, dermatillomania, dysthymia (all symptoms)... but no one has ever considered ADD. Never. None of those other labels were as accurate, as enlightening and, above all, as transformative as this one.
When the diagnosis is finally right, everything changes. And perhaps that's precisely why it has such an impact: because previous mistakes have already taken their toll. Because a misdiagnosis can have many consequences. The most obvious is inadequate treatment. Then there's the financial waste, the emotional strain and, perhaps worst of all, the accumulation of frustration for those who live with the disorder without knowing it.
And when this frustration is silent, it becomes infiltrating everything.
This cycle of frustration and error is fueled by misinformation – and worse, the distortion of information. Even today, many health professionals are not prepared to recognize the different profiles and manifestations of ADD, which contributes to late or mistaken diagnoses. This makes the road to diagnosis longer, lonelier and more inaccessible for many people.
And then there's another factor that makes everything worse: stigma. The way society treats any disorder – not just ADD – ends up feeding isolation, shame, guilt, judgment and resistance. This doesn't just affect the person with the disorder, but also those around them. And when we add all these people up... well, we're talking about society as a whole.
I say this because for a long time I myself was a victim of my own limited vision. I also generalized symptoms and I believed in that lazy stereotype of people with ADD: the person who gets carried away, who doesn't finish anything, who loses everything. And, like many people, I thought that everything nowadays ended up being diagnosed as ADD – as if it were a fad or an excuse for behaviors that "everyone has".
I only really began to question myself when I opened up to people close to me and saw that there was much deeper layers behind the disorder. That's when I began to deconstruct this simplified idea and understand that ADD isn't a personality trait or an exaggeration of the current generation – it's a neurobiological condition, with real and persistent effects on the way the brain regulates attention, emotion and behavior.
My perception really began to change when, despite leading a healthy lifestyle, I found myself experiencing something I couldn't name.
I was at a point in my life when I was doing everything I could to take care of my mental health: eating well, exercising, meditating, saunas, cold baths, contact with nature, regulated sleep... Precisely because of this, it was difficult for me to fit into that stereotypical profile of people with ADD.
After all, I've always considered myself an organized person (in various areas of life), disciplined when it matters, and determined when something really motivates me – which only made everything even more confusing.
I tried my best to maintain a balanced routine because I felt my well-being was improving, but the truth was that I still felt that something wasn't right. Even so, I felt very anxious, unproductive, frustrated and procrastinating on important things. It wasn't laziness. It wasn't disorganization. And even less a lack of will – it was something that couldn't be explained by "lack of discipline" alone.
A few months before my ADD diagnosis, in yet another attempt to understand that persistent discomfort, I decided to seek professional help again. This time, the psychologist diagnosed me with dysthymia, a type of moderate, chronic depression. But that label made little sense to me. I had already experienced depression as a teenager, and what I felt now was different. It wasn't sadness. It was a feeling of constant friction, a mismatch between what I could achieve and what was going on inside my head.
A few months later, I was diagnosed with ADD. And it all made sense. Because it not only explained what I was feeling, but also many things that had happened in my past.
Treatment and its Stigmas
After the diagnosis came the next challenge: choosing the treatment.
And then I ran into yet another wall: the stigmas and taboos surrounding medication.
Part of the problem is that few people talk about it openly and many people associate the use of stimulants with addiction or doping, as if those who take them are trying to cheat. Others think that the drug will alter their personality, reduce their creativity and erase their essence. There is also the moralizing discourse that "medication is the last option". This discourse is often dressed up as naturalism, spirituality or self-sufficiency.
And, unfortunately, these silent speeches generate guilt, insecurity and self-judgment. They cause many people to abandon treatment or not seek help at all.
In my case, doing everything "right", healthy and natural helped me to a certain extent. It was then, with medical support, that I understood how medication could really make a difference.
But even with all the guidance, I ended up falling into a common trap: I started taking the medicine as it is popularly understood.
The use of medication
Many people think that stimulants are meant to give you "focus". And since this is the dominant narrative, even those with ADD end up using medication only when they need to perform at work. And I, no different, started to do just that. I would forget to take it on other days, but when I had a lot to do, I would take the magic pill.
Until my psychiatrist firmly reminded: first, for not understanding the real purpose of treatment; secondly, by not being serious about something that requires consistency. Because focusalthough it is the most visible effect of the medication, it is not the only one – nor the main one. It is the consequence of a deeper process.
The medication acts by regulating neurotransmitters such as dopamine and noradrenaline. This has an impact on various executive functions: emotional regulation, impulse control, motivation, working memory and planning. Focus comes from this – not from a "productivity boost", as many people think.
That's why it's so important to understand that medication isn't something you take only when you want to "give in". This view is limited – and dangerous. It reinforces the idea that ADD is just a performance problem. When, in fact, it impacts the way the brain works all the time, in all contexts of life.
Taking the medication irregularly, as I did, leads to emotional instability, rebound effects and confusion about whether the treatment is working or not. That's exactly what I experienced: it felt like nothing was changing. And of course – it was like trying to train a muscle once a week and expecting progress.
After clarifying all this with my doctor, I understood that the regularity is essential. Medication, together with habits, helps the brain to function in a more balanced way over time – not just at times when you need to "get things done".
Today, what I notice most about taking the medicine is the silence. A silence inside my head. Those chaotic, fast-moving and intrusive thoughts diminish. On medical advice, we adjust the medication as follows: in the morning, I take Concerta, which has a prolonged and more subtle effect throughout the day. In the evening, I take Ritalin, which is fast-acting and shorter-acting, so that at night I can rest without my head spinning all over the place. This adjustment to the medication has greatly improved my sleep and anxiety.
I think it's important to emphasise that this combination was made under medical supervision and is based on my specific case. Sharing how I use the medication may be useful for other people, but this is by no means a recommendation. The treatment for ADD is highly individualized and needs to be adjusted by a qualified professional.Therefore, any decision about medication should be done under supervision – and never on the basis of reports on the internet, like mine, however well-meaning they may be. Good professional advice is crucial to the success of an effective treatment.
And anyone who lives with ADD knows: medication helps – and it helps a lot – but it doesn't solve everything. It's a fundamental part of treatment, but the rest of the journey still depends on other support, tools, learning and new beginnings.
I'm still at the beginning of yet another process of reconnecting with myself – and I hope that by sharing this part of my journey, I can help you begin (or continue) your own.
And don't forget: be whole. A l w a y s.
Big hug,
