I'm a Therapist with ADHD — And That’s Made Me Better at What I Do
When I met with my current PCP to be assessed for ADHD, I managed to forget the one thing I was supposed to take care of before the appointment—a completed screener form.
He asked me what symptoms I was experiencing. Naturally, I launched into a three-minute monologue about my last four years of work history, my divorce and relocation, and my ever-changing jobs—until he gently stopped me and interrupted.
“Do you know how I know you have ADHD? Because I asked you a question three minutes ago and you still haven’t answered it.”
In that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief—finally, someone not only listened, but truly understood. I had spent years knowing something was off: my knowledge of the diagnosis, self-awareness of the presence of symptoms affecting my daily life, and family history all pointed toward ADHD. Hearing those words from a professional who knew about my struggles made me feel seen, believed, and unbroken. It was the first step toward getting the help I had needed for so long.
The Rise of Late ADHD Diagnoses (Especially in Women)
ADHD runs in my family. My mother has it. My brother has it and took medication throughout junior high and high school to help. So why did it take me over three decades to recognize that I do too?
Like many women and AFAB (assigned female at birth) individuals, I was missed. This group is often underdiagnosed due to masking behaviors, internalized expectations, and diagnostic criteria historically centered around male presentations of ADHD. My grades were spectacular. I was self-motivated. I was organized and detailed. I was also exhausted from keeping my systems together, overperforming, constantly reminded to stop talking out of turn, overly sensitive to rejection and the possibility of failure, and shamed for being "too much".
For decades, I moved through the world pushing myself to try harder, do better, get a different system. When my symptoms really started to interfere with my life in 2021, I thought it was a personal failure.
Looking back, I can now see that many of the difficulties I faced in college, graduate school, and even throughout my career can largely be attributed to my ADHD symptoms—masked, misunderstood, and untreated. I tried to get assessed in 2022, but the physician I saw wasn't convinced. If I had started treatment then, parts of the last three years of my life might have looked very different.
Being a Therapist with ADHD
Since my diagnosis, I've been learning what it means to live, work, and thrive with ADHD. I’m learning how my symptoms show up, what my limits are, and what systems actually support me. I’m also learning to extend compassion to the past versions of myself who were simply trying to survive in a world not built for neurodivergent minds.
Clinically, ADHD shows up in ways that require ongoing self-awareness: missed emails, paperwork fatigue, overstimulation, time blindness, novelty-seeking, needing routine but struggling to maintain it, and difficulty with transitions. But it also comes with gifts I bring into the therapy space every day:
I think creatively and holistically
I connect quickly and authentically
I genuinely understand what it means to feel overwhelmed and disorganized
I help clients examine challenges from multiple perspectives
I support clients in practicing meaningful self-compassion
Because I know what it’s like to struggle, I never shame clients who are "behind" or "not trying hard enough." I've had clients forget to complete therapy homework, miss or reschedule appointments due to time blindness, or come in needing to shift the focus of our session at the last minute. Because I understand these struggles firsthand, I'm able to respond with empathy and flexibility—meeting clients where they are and reinforcing that therapy is a space for real, imperfect people. These moments often deepen the alliance and build trust, because clients feel accepted, not judged.
When Lived Experience Becomes Clinical Insight
My clients know that I see them, not in spite of my ADHD, but because of it. I know what it’s like to have the desire to do more—to plan, to act, to follow through—but feel stuck in place due to executive dysfunction. I understand what it means to lose momentum and wrestle with self-motivation. And I know what it means to keep showing up anyway.
I'm open about my diagnosis. I take accountability when I mess up. I self-disclose when it's clinically appropriate—because modeling humanity is part of the work. Naming our struggles helps us all breathe a little deeper.
Having ADHD hasn’t made me less professional. It’s made me more compassionate, creative, and human. To me, professionalism means showing up with integrity, owning your mistakes, practicing self-awareness, and staying committed to growth. It means being honest when you're overwhelmed, seeking support when needed, and modeling resilience—not perfection.
Not Broken, Just Wired Differently (and Still Qualified)
What if professionalism included flexibility, empathy, and repair? What if we made room for therapists to be whole people—not productivity machines?
I believe our field is stronger when we welcome neurodivergent clinicians, not just with tolerance, but with respect and support. There is so much we bring to the table.
If you’re a therapist with ADHD, I hope you know this: You are not broken. You are not a liability. You are needed. And if any of this resonates with you, I invite you to connect—let's keep learning, growing, and building a more inclusive mental health community together.
Your brain isn’t something to hide—it might just be the reason your clients feel safe enough to heal.