Tag: Trauma

As a child growing up in the ‘80s, I was bombarded with messages about “stranger danger.” Imagine my surprise, then, when a stranger arrived at the door of my second-grade classroom to take me away, and no one seemed to think it strange.

I obediently rose from my small desk to meet said stranger, who had lots of questions for me as we made our way down the hallway: How old was I? 8. Did I have any brothers or sisters? Yes, three. Which hand did I use to write? I raised my left hand when I meant to raise my right – a nervous mistake.

The stranger and I made our way to a small, windowless room I had never seen before, where other children around my age, unfamiliar to me, were sitting at a large, oddly shaped table. That small room eventually became a regular part of my routine. Why was I there? Because of reading challenges — from word recognition to reading comprehension — uncovered from earlier rounds of testing.

I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised. School had already been a challenge for me even before the second grade. Starting in kindergarten, I struggled with seemingly simple tasks — learning the alphabet, tying my shoes, cutting with scissors, and other primary language and motor skills — that left me behind my classmates. Making friends was a challenge, and I was always just a step behind the conversation or action.

Oddly enough, no one discussed this change in my schedule, not my teachers, parents, or the few friends I had. Months after the stranger first appeared, acknowledgement of this change finally came in the form of a piercing, unforgettable comment from my teacher – my tormentor. When I was allowed to rejoin a reading group in my “regular” classroom, my teacher said, “Let’s see how long you last.”

[Read: Reading Strategies That Grow with Your Child]

My reading did improve, although standardized test scores indicated otherwise. Eventually, I stopped receiving reading remediation, but my school experience continued to be bumpy. I struggled to prepare for tests, and even with significant preparation, I would be met with tearful results and frustration from my parents. For some time in middle school, I got so anxious that I would get sick to my stomach on Monday mornings, which landed me in the emergency room; at age 11, I was diagnosed with a stomach ulcer.

Even in areas where I did excel, I wasn’t free from stumbling. I loved physics and understood its theories but would get stuck on memorizing and applying formulas. I had to repeat math, and a college with no math requirement was a top priority when I began applying. The understanding I had formed of myself as a learner — not as quick as the other kids who seemed to “get” school so much more easily than me — seemed at odds with some of the honors classes into which I had been placed.

Still, I survived school with an anxious sense of uncertainty, not ever understanding why it was so difficult for me.

Hidden Strengths

As researcher and social entrepreneur Dr. Todd Rose notes, “We all have jagged profiles; there is no average.” This is certainly true in my case. Much later in my life, during my first neuropsychological evaluation, I learned that I had combined-type ADHD that had been undiagnosed all this time. I exhibited significant struggles with executive functioning, including working memory. My oral reading accuracy was at the 30th percentile, with a “high rate of errors” along with other reading difficulties. And despite believing that I was not good in math, I actually scored above the 90th percentile in this subject.

[Read: The Dyslexia and ADHD Connection]

My profile is, indeed, jagged. My weaknesses, like difficulty with sustained attention, are offset by areas of great strength, like visual-perceptual skills. Of course, given the lack of a diagnosis, it took 30 years for me to uncover whether I was truly less capable or if there was a reason for my struggles.

The Champions Who Kept Me Going

Indeed, I experienced many struggles. But I did meet some champions along the way — select teachers and individuals who believed in my potential and encouraged me. I also found a group of friends with whom I could feel smart because we were all much more interested in learning things outside of school. I found joy working on automobiles and anything mechanical that I could take apart and put back together.

Even in college, which was a difficult transition for me, to say the least, what kept me going when I was one phone call away from dropping out were the people who cared for me, believed in my potential, and challenged me to work toward it. This same motivational factor reemerged several times throughout my life, which I credit for my successes.

A few months after graduating, I drove my younger sibling to middle school — the same one I had attended a decade earlier. We ran into one of my former teachers, and just as she had years earlier, she became a champion in my life that day when she encouraged me to do the unthinkable: Return to middle school. I enlisted as a substitute teacher that same week, fueling a passion to change the way we think about and educate kids.

Today, I am the president of The Dyslexia Foundation, director of the Global Literacy Hub at the Yale Child Study Center, and executive director of The Southport School and The Southport CoLAB, which serves kids who think and learn differently, many of whom have been marginalized or struggled in mainstream academic environments.

People frequently ask me, “What does it take to help struggling kids thrive in school?” I don’t have a singular answer, but I do know this: How children feel about themselves depends heavily on whether they have champions in their lives. These champions can leverage a child’s strengths, improve their self-perception, and motivate them toward positive change. I know this because my own champions helped me change my internal dialogue, little by little.

At my school in Southport, Connecticut, we bet on our students, just like some key people in my life bet on me. We choose to believe in their potential so that they don’t have to find those one or two teachers who believe in them. We don’t allow strangers to arrive at classroom doors and pull students out, as the relationship we build with our students is based on trust. We champion them unconditionally and appreciate them fully – no one is a stranger here.

Supporting Students with Learning Differences: Next Steps

Dr. Benjamin N. Powers is the executive director of The Southport School, an independent day school for cerebrodiverse children in grades 2-8 with language-based learning differences such as dyslexia and attention issues. He is also the founder and executive director of The Southport CoLAB, Director of the Global Literacy Hub at the Yale Child Study Center, a senior scientist with Haskins Laboratories, and president of The Dyslexia Foundation.

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CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
Since 1998, ADDitude has worked to provide ADHD education and guidance through webinars, newsletters, community engagement, and its groundbreaking magazine. To support ADDitude’s mission, please consider subscribing. Your readership and support help make our content and outreach possible. Thank you.

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Some time ago, I came down for breakfast and discovered a curious stack of bottles in the kitchen. It was a resolute stack. It knew it wanted to be there. I knew I didn’t want it to be there. One was a vitamin bottle, another an allergy pill bottle, and a third a prescription pill bottle. The three of them were stacked on top of one another in the middle of my otherwise pristine and shiny counter.

It drove me bananas.

Why was it there? I knew it was thanks to my husband, but why was he doing this? It was different than the way he usually left his things. This was intentional, and that bugged me even more. I thought, “He’s standing there stacking this thing for the niftiness of it, probably admiring it for some physics or mathematical property and walking away without a care for how the house looks.”

Grrrr.

I unstacked the bottles and put them back in their little nook.

The next day, the stack returned.

This seesaw continued — him stacking, me unstacking.

I should mention that my husband and I both have ADHD. He’s brilliant, unruffled, and messy. I’m creative, a worrier, and organized. We make a great team.

[Read: “The 3 Vital Keys to Our Happy ADHD Marriage”]

But the combination sometimes presents its challenges, as with the enigma of the tower of bottles in the kitchen. What’s more, even after our diagnoses (mine came well after his), I still spent so many years in the dark about ADHD and how we each manage it. That all started to change for me when I decided to become an ADHD coach.

An Annoying Habit? Or Creative Problem-Solving at Work?

In the midst of our stacking and unstacking, I happened to be in coaching training and learning about “externalizing” as a strategy for managing ADHD issues with memory and forgetfulness. Externalizing has many forms — paper and digital planners, buzzers, alarms, vibrating watches, timers, visual cueing — you name it, it’s out there.

I marveled at these tools and admired those with ADHD who sought out these strategies, experimented with them, and incorporated them into their lives.

So there I was, admiring folks who used cues, while at the same time, over in my kitchen, getting peeved about The Stack, and unstacking it.

[Read: “My Keys Were in the Fridge!” ADHD Stories of Wildly Misplaced Items]

Until one day it hit me.

Wait a second. Is this—? Could it be—?

I went downstairs when I heard my husband making dinner.

“Honey,” I asked with curiosity for once, “why do you stack those pill bottles? I never really asked you.” He shrugged with a simple matter-of-factness.

“It’s a way to remember to take my pills. I’d been forgetting. If they are stacked, it tells me I haven’t taken them yet.”

I closed my eyes. It was stunning to see how easy it was for me to assume and not delve further. Truthfully, it never occurred to me there might be anything else to understand about my husband’s bottle stacking. Yet there I was, blind to something so remarkable.

Talk about humbling. Talk about how celebratory I suddenly felt, too, about living with ADHD.

ADHD Brains Are Solution-Oriented

There’s a creative current that runs through our ADHD self-management systems that we sometimes don’t see or acknowledge in ourselves. We come to the table with self-knowledge already in place, knowing through trial and error what has worked and what hasn’t, that we don’t often give ourselves credit for.

In the kitchen that day, when my husband revealed his own self-care solution, I was so proud of him. And I realized there is much yet for me to learn — about him, myself, and others with ADHD.

I’m so ready.

So if you see a tower of stacked vitamin and prescription bottles in the middle of my kitchen counter right now, please know that it is not due to madness or some passive aggressive stunt. It’s due to brilliant self-awareness.

Creative Problem-Solving and ADHD: Next Steps

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CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
Since 1998, ADDitude has worked to provide ADHD education and guidance through webinars, newsletters, community engagement, and its groundbreaking magazine. To support ADDitude’s mission, please consider subscribing. Your readership and support help make our content and outreach possible. Thank you.

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Peopling is hard. Peopling with strangers is harder. When you’re neurodivergent, every social situation can feel like a slow-moving catastrophe of missed cues and faux pas. As my husband and I stepped into the hotel for the Horror Writers Association’s annual StokerCon gathering, disaster seemed to loom. I faced three days of intense peopling. Surely, I would screw it up somehow.

We walked into a sea of black-clothed people in nametags. I immediately noticed my Twitter buddy Andrew Sullivan, an accomplished author recognizable by his tats. “Hi!” I said, touching his arm — then realizing he was rushing by with a group of other people. I swallowed a wince: Social faux pas number one accomplished, and I hadn’t even reached the registration table.

But Andrew gave me a genuine smile. “Hey, Eliza!” he said. “Good to see you! I’ll catch up in a bit.” He disappeared into the crowd. I blinked a few times. He hadn’t ignored me. My impulsive greeting wasn’t brushed off as strange. That was different. My husband and I found the conference’s check-in. I was the writer. He’d come along for moral support — I wasn’t walking the social gauntlet alone.

I shouldn’t have worried, though I didn’t know it at the time.

Finding My Neurodivergent Safe Space

I’d started writing Southern Gothic horror about a year earlier; while I’d interacted with plenty of other writers on Twitter, I didn’t know about the horror community’s strong commitment to supporting its marginalized members — including the neurodiverse ones. So often, we’re lost in the shuffle. While people may say they “support neurodiversity” — and most do — they’re unwilling to do the hard work of understanding us.

We have trouble with eye contact. We overshare. We burn out and need a break; we miss social cues, then miss more while we’re trying to cover our embarrassment. To people who don’t understand, we can read as rude, condescending, or worse. It’s excruciating for us and alienating for others.

[Free Download: 8 Ways to Get Better at Small Talk]

The head of the Horror Writers Association, John Edward Lawson, understands this all too well. “As a person with CPTSD, severe depression, and ADHD, who is also a parent of someone on the autism spectrum, I am intimately familiar with the challenges faced when navigating a society engineered against your needs,” he says. “My belief as a leader is that you don’t boost your community by raising the ceiling, you do so by raising the floor; people who are forgotten, left out, or dismissed will contribute in groundbreaking ways when able to participate.”

I’d walked into the ultimate neurodivergent safe space.

This started to dawn on me when my cadre of Twitter buddies recognized me from across the bookroom — and shouted my name.

I hadn’t expected shouting, which is usually my first impulse and usually ends with a side-eye and a dismissal of over-enthusiasm.

“Can I give you a hug?” I asked after wending my way over. One more time, I stopped myself from wincing: Certainly, I’d said the wrong thing again. No one hugs people they just met.

“Um, I hope you give us a hug!” one of them replied.

I’d found my not-scary scary people.

[Self-Test: Could You Have Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria?]

Where the ‘Weird Kids’ Are

One woman had fire-engine-red hair, long on one side and buzzed on the other. One wore a fanny pack and carried emoji signs he threatened to deploy in place of facial expression. Some had wild tats, and some had none. They were lawyers and accountants, grocery-store clerks, and parents. Some were super-extra, and some were quiet. When I confessed that I was scared I’d be the weird kid, they cracked up. “No, you’re not the weird kid,” they all told me. “I’m the weird kid.” One swore that he spent his childhood wearing a cape. Another said he used to carry a dictionary around for reading — and personal protection.

“Personal protection?” I asked.

He told us about clocking his childhood tormentor with Merriam-Webster, and I might’ve fallen a little bit in love. Someone else might have called it “over-sharing,” but we were all “over-sharing.” No one cared. When a woman spent half an hour explaining her unabashed love for seaQuest, it wasn’t odd. Her passion was beautiful; we appreciated her energy and excitement with the same enthusiasm she handed us. Of course, we wanted her to tell us. Of course, it wasn’t weird. Did she like it? Only that mattered. The “cool” kids had stopped making our rules, and we were free.

But StokerCon went farther than simply tolerating our social quirks. The HWA planned carefully to accommodate its neurodiverse members. Though we had panels all day, people were vocal about becoming burnt out with too much peopling; they took breaks, and no one felt ashamed about it. StokerCon, as Lawson notes, included, “expanded virtual events and asynchronous workshops, a variety of event spaces such as the quiet rooms,” and diversity grants were awarded through the Horror Scholarships program. Lawson didn’t just plan on an institutional level, either. When I brought him a book to sign and realized, cringingly, that it was a signed edition, he laughed with me.

I wasn’t alone in feeling included. Cynthia Pelayo, who won a Bram Stoker Award that weekend for her poetry collection Crime Scene (Raw Dog Screaming Press), says, “I haven’t been as vocal about myself being neurodiverse, but I think it’s important to state that and to highlight that people like us exist who fall outside of the neurotypical range. All humans deserve respect, kindness, patience, and understanding, and as a neurodiverse person, respect, kindness, understanding, and patience from the writing community has been instrumental in my success.”

That writing community’s support goes further than StokerCon, too. Jennifer Barnes runs Raw Dog Screaming Press, which scooped two Bram Stoker Awards in 2022, one in 2021, and three in 2020. “I suspect there has always been a large contingent of neurodiverse writers and, as a press, we’ve always tried to be aware of that, especially in social situations,” she says. “So when we take pitches, we don’t worry about eye contact or how the pitch is given, and we understand that conferences can be overwhelming. This also extends to all author communication.”

I spent a lot of time talking to people that weekend. I also spent a lot of time simply being myself, and that was a kind of exhausting I’d never experienced in a large-group setting. “It’ll be hard to remember to act normal,” I told my husband as we drove away from StokerCon. 

He threw me a look. “We were acting normal,” he said.

I smiled because he was right, and it was wonderful.

Socially Awkward Next Steps

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CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
Since 1998, ADDitude has worked to provide ADHD education and guidance through webinars, newsletters, community engagement, and its groundbreaking magazine. To support ADDitude’s mission, please consider subscribing. Your readership and support help make our content and outreach possible. Thank you.

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A student came to me feeling angry and frustrated. “I can’t help it!” she cried, “My brain is awful.” These words pierced my heart. She felt like her ADHD was a problem. And she isn’t alone. I’ve heard far too many neurodivergent kids say similar things about themselves.

The path to learning and embracing who you are isn’t always smoothly paved, especially when a learning difference, condition, or disability is involved. When your child or student feels down or discouraged, here are some things they need to hear about their perfect neurodivergent selves:

1. Your brain is amazing! If your brain is to blame for this one thing that happened (or sometimes many things that happened) that you didn’t like, your brain is also to blame for the other millions of things about you that you do like, and that are part of you.

[Get This Free Download: How to Teach Self-Advocacy Skills to Children with ADHD]

Your condition is only one part of you. A big part? Absolutely. But still just one. I’m not asking you to separate yourself from your condition but to see yourself as a whole. Think about the things that are going (or went) well for you, like the beautiful art project that you made, the really cool LEGO display you designed and built, or that funny joke you told that left your friends and teachers laughing from their bellies. Your brain does those things because all parts of it are amazing.

2. You are not alone. Being different can feel isolating, especially when you have an invisible disability or difference. You might think you’re the only one with your experiences, and that no one else gets it because they don’t have to work through life in the same way you do. Your dad doesn’t get it because he knows everything. Your best friend doesn’t get it because she always gets good grades. Though your experiences are uniquely yours, everyone knows what it’s like to feel sad, angry, annoyed, or confused. You’re not as alone as you think you are. Maybe your dad or best friend actually get it more than you think they do. Maybe ADHD or another form of neurodivergence is an untold (or yet-to-be-discovered) part of their story, or maybe they had something happen to them that you can relate to.

3. Hard and Capable are frenemies. Whenever Hard makes an appearance, bring out Capable, who always asks Hard, “What do you want?”

Sometimes Hard likes to distract us from figuring out why it even made an appearance. Hard may appear, for example, when you’re reading a paragraph and lose your place for the third time. If you’re only focused on Hard’s presence, then you won’t be able to bring out Capable, who will help you notice that you’re losing your place because someone else is rummaging through their desk and distracting you from your reading. Capable knows that we can do hard things by adjusting, like moving to a different spot in the room to read or putting on some headphones to drown out sounds. With Capable’s help, you’ll be able to figure out what you need to do to say to Hard, “Thank you, now you can go.”

[Read: Shake Loose of Your Limiting Beliefs — a Guide for Teens with ADHD]

4. Learn from it and keep going. Maybe dyscalculia makes it difficult to concentrate in math class (and all the numbers look like Jell-O). It’s possible that hyperactivity made you jump on your chair, then another chair, until you fell. In all these situations, you may be able to trace challenges back to your condition, but you can also reflect on the experience to learn how to do things differently next time. (Remember, a reason is not an excuse.) You deserve to learn math and get extra help if you need it. You deserve to advocate for yourself and say, “I need a break” when your body feels like it really, really needs to move.

5. It’s not your fault that the world was built around neurotypical individuals. However, it is your responsibility to decide what to do about it. You deserve to be the best version of yourself, so let’s figure out how your world can be easier for you to navigate to reach your goals and aspirations.

Words of Encouragement for Neurodivergent Teens: Next Steps

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CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
Since 1998, ADDitude has worked to provide ADHD education and guidance through webinars, newsletters, community engagement, and its groundbreaking magazine. To support ADDitude’s mission, please consider subscribing. Your readership and support help make our content and outreach possible. Thank you.

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A nagging, life-long question resurfaced as I began exploring career options again: Where do I fit? And how and where am I meant to find a role that leads to a life I can be proud of?

I recently researched employer branding to better understand employer and corporate perspectives. However, it also gave me valuable insights into why the quest for the perfect job seems so elusive for people with ADHD.

Employer branding is essentially a corporation’s dating profile: It makes the company as appealing as possible for the talent it wants to attract and hire. It works like a magnet in traditional haystack recruiting, effectively pulling the needle to the recruiter, saving them time and resources searching through the rest of the hay to find it. This streamlines their hiring process as strong candidates who are also a good cultural fit are already interested and engaged with the brand. It’s the business version of a low-cut top and great hair, promoting an appealing image of the company and its culture, or “personality,” and what your work life could be like if you join them.

Chasing Another Dream Job with ADHD

Employer branding is both catnip and kryptonite for people with ADHD.

We can’t help but chase the dream job and career. We are eager to buy into the company’s brand image and idealize belonging there; to be happy in our work, with a good wage and benefits package to do something we love in a place where we feel wanted, respected, understood, and financially and socially secure. It doesn’t matter if we’ve never heard of the company or if the industry’s tanking; we view our jobs as a new adventure packed with potential, and we’re excited to make a difference. Once we’re in, we’re all in — until it starts to go wrong.

One minute, we’re super happy to finally find a ‘work home,’ and the next, we’re left feeling like something’s a bit off. People with ADHD are genuine, loyal, hard-working, open, adaptable, (far too) honest, and often socially dependent yet oblivious creatives who think differently from our non-ADHD peers. We’re genuine gold dust but with a slight catch. We make mistakes that look careless but aren’t, do things a peculiar way, and miss details (like the boring bits of the job description!). Sometimes we miss deadlines and details others deem obvious and communicate in a funny way, especially when we feel overwhelmed and don’t realize it.

[Free Download: 8 Dream Jobs For Adults with ADHD]

We make these little ADHD mistakes early on, and then we overthink every single one of them because we really care about doing good work and take great pride in it. The shame is a big blow, and we care so much that sometimes it can drive us mad. We lose sleep, and our ADHD symptoms spike, especially over unavoidable critical feedback, which we don’t always know how to react to or process in the moment. So, we do our best to adapt, or we overcompensate.

Ultimately, we get hurt — a lot — during our careers, especially when our ADHD mistakes add up. We have a higher rate of getting fired than people without ADHD. Sometimes, we’re just the wrong fit for a job, but our brains, which are primed on strong emotions like pain, rejection, and joy, blame ourselves for the mismatch. This forces us into a constant internal feedback loop fraught with negative thinking.

Debunking Employer Branding

Like most images of pretty people on social media and dating profiles, employer branding doesn’t tell the whole truth. It’s the image that the corporation genuinely aspires to and wants us to see in an attempt to build a relationship that creates loyalty and excitement even before the first interview.

The truth is that large organizations are run by a mixture of people with different attitudes, agendas, backgrounds, and images of what makes a respectable professional or a creative. Trying to meet that ambiguity can make us feel like we’re a bogart from Harry Potter, whirling and morphing every time we receive feedback until we finally turn into a balloon, whiz around the room, and retreat to the safety of our dark little cupboard. It’s exhausting, as is the unrealistic pressure we put on ourselves to be ‘perfect’.

[Free Download: How to Figure Out Your Career Calling]

So, when we encounter this seductive employer branding, with its beautiful blonde hair and gorgeous smile, we must understand that it’s as genuine as any other social media post or dating profile. But it’s also written by a good person genuinely trying to give us what they think we want too.

Of course, after the toil of job hunting, it’s natural to feel enamored by a new position. But just as we need to manage our expectations in any new relationship, we need to take a step back during the first few months, stay neutral, remember ourselves, acclimate to the job, and understand that the people we work with and for are only human. They, too, have flaws.

But don’t give up hope.

There’s a real person behind every job advertisement who is probably confused about what they want, just like you. Ultimately, they only want what’s best for their team, to hire someone they can rely on and work with, who makes a better future for them and the company. Someone they can be proud of. We have to trust that they see us for who we are, and until then, we have no choice but to get up and try again until we find that perfect fit.

Good luck.

Navigating Employer Branding: Next Steps

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CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
Since 1998, ADDitude has worked to provide ADHD education and guidance through webinars, newsletters, community engagement, and its groundbreaking magazine. To support ADDitude’s mission, please consider subscribing. Your readership and support help make our content and outreach possible. Thank you.

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The space between can be rough for our kids.

Whether it’s the space between brushing teeth and putting on socks, or the space between the end of the school day and the start of swimming lessons, even a seemingly small transition point can have a big impact on our kids with ADHD. But with a bit of patience, planning, and practice, your child’s toughest transitions can eventually become second nature. Try these strategies to help your child seamlessly move through difficult “between spaces.”

1. Look for Patterns

Your child’s transition difficulties likely follow a pattern. Try writing down all the transition hot spots during your child’s day and think about what happens immediately before and after the transitions. Is your child moving from a quiet environment to a loud one with lots of people, or is it the opposite? Is the activity your child is transitioning to a boring one? Is the transition too slow, or too fast? You can also try to write down the transitions that come easily to your child to give you some clues. Maybe transitions are easier for your child when the environment is quieter, when they have a full belly, or if they can read a book on drive there.

Examining transitions in this way will help you notice patterns and think of strategies that uniquely fit the situation and are appealing for your child, like putting on their favorite song as they transition through their morning routine.

2. Visual Schedules are Your Child’s Friend

Visual reminders of the many activities and sequences your child follows throughout the day can help them mentally prepare for changes and avoid surprises. Make your child’s visual schedule as detailed as needed. For example, your child may benefit from an interactive visual schedule for their nighttime routine where each step in the routine has an associated picture card. That way, your child can physically move a picture card once the related task is completed.

But schedules don’t always have to contain images and Velcro tabs to help your child. Writing out (rather than solely verbally telling) your child the chores you expect them to complete may help with the transitions between homework, laundry, and doing the dishes. Likewise, another simple visual schedule could be writing out the tasks within an especially aversive homework assignment. Some children may thrive if their visual schedules are balanced with challenging and less challenging tasks, with breaks after especially frustrating tasks, or with a preferred activity at the end of the routine. Either way, your child will be able to see that a break or a fun reward is coming up soon.

[Free Download: Sample Schedules for Reliable Family Routines]

3. The Gift of Choice

Despite our best efforts, some things are simply out of our control, like if the school bus arrives late, or if it’s raining and your child can’t wear their favorite sandals. But even in these moments, there are always little glimmers of flexibility and choice to be found. Especially if your child’s transition difficulties are rooted in anxiety, choices, no matter how small, can provide them with a sense of control during stressful situations. If the bus is running late, you can ask your child, “Do you want to wait for the bus inside or outside?” If they can’t wear their favorite sandals, ask, “Do you want to wear tennis shoes or boots?”

Even when things are going according to plan, consider introducing flexibility and choice throughout your child’s daily transitions to break down barriers and resistance. For example, most likely the steps in your child’s bedtime routine are non-negotiable (e.g., putting on pajamas, brushing teeth, combing hair), but maybe you can let your child choose the order in which they’ll complete each step. If chores and homework are on your child’s to-do list, say, “Your choices are to do your flashcards or put away the dishes. Which one do you want to do first?”

4. Practice Frontloading

Frontloading refers to the conversations and activities that occur before an event with the intent to support a successful transition. Frontloading is another way to prepare your child for changes ahead, especially if those changes are big. For example, if your child is transferring schools, frontloading may include touring the new school in person and meeting key staff members before the official start of classes. Even better, your child can record the experience and rewatch videos of their tour. If your child feels anxious and overwhelmed at the thought of making new friends, talk through some coping tools they can independently use, like deep breathing and counting to ten. You can also talk through the best and worst possible outcomes of the upcoming activity and the likelihood of those outcomes occurring. For example, maybe your child forgot their spelling workbook, but a fellow classmate can share theirs – and now your child has made a new friend.

Frontloading can also look like having your child think through what they’ll encounter while making a transition. If your child is going to music lessons, have them visualize everything from getting ready for lessons to the noise levels of the studio and how they might react to the new environment. Maybe there are little strategies your child can think of that would make steps of these transitions easier. If getting ready for music lessons overwhelms your child, perhaps you try setting an alarm to remind your child to put their instrument by the front door, or the child makes a visual checklist and puts it near the door so your child can easily see if they have everything they need for class.

[Read: “How Can I Teach My Child to Smoothly Transition Activities?”]

5. Highlight Your Child’s Successes

There are so many transitions, including transitions within a single event (think about how Friday family night might include dinner, dessert, and multiple board games), happening all day and every day. With that in mind, think about all the transitions your child successfully completes each day, even if those switches appear minor. Remember these successes and take the time to praise your child for moving through them. Reminding your child of their success with all kinds of transitions is likely to keep them motivated when dealing with the tough ones.

ADHD and Transitions: Next Steps

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CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
Since 1998, ADDitude has worked to provide ADHD education and guidance through webinars, newsletters, community engagement, and its groundbreaking magazine. To support ADDitude’s mission, please consider subscribing. Your readership and support help make our content and outreach possible. Thank you.

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A phone call from my mother changed everything.

We had always been close, but our relationship was rocky – lots of anger, frustration, and assumptions on both sides.

After a quick hello, she told me how she had read an article about older adults with ADHD. My irritation at being interrupted fizzled as my mom read the list of symptoms to me: lateness and “time blindness;” difficulty with organization; big feelings; difficulty planning and executing tasks; hyperfocus…

I froze, and my mind whirled. Of course she has ADHD — and how had I, her therapist daughter, missed it? I was stunned, and then overwhelming guilt washed over me. All these things that had felt so personal from my mom over the years, and often so inconsiderate – and that I had been so reactive to – were almost all symptoms of ADHD!

Branches of the Same Tree?

“Mom,” I said, “This absolutely sounds like you. Can you talk to your doctor? I need to think about this more.” She agreed, then spent some time reassuring me that, while she might have ADHD, I don’t. After all, I’d finished grad school, I had a great job, an impossibly busy family schedule, and a small private practice. There was no way I had ADHD, and I agreed — at first.

I went home and thought about it more. A lot more. I was already familiar with ADHD due to my work, and I’d wondered for years if my daughter might have it. Her busyness, distractibility, disorganization, and grades were all potential signs. But I never showed any signs of ADHD, right?

[Symptom Test: Could You Have Adult ADHD?]

After a week or so of reflecting on my life, my thoughts had shifted. I was a bright and sensitive child, disappearing for hours into imaginary worlds. I also picked up and dropped hobbies on the regular. My room was a mess, my desk at school the same. I did so well academically that it didn’t matter that I rushed through my work and then zoned out.

Then I hit high school, and it became impossible to manage the complexity of social relationships and a varying schedule while staying on top of my tasks. In university, I regularly had urges to leave class mid-lecture, and I sometimes acted on that urge, wandering the halls until that disquieting feeling that kept me from sitting still went away. Background noises and interruptions irritated me, but I thought that was just me being an impatient, overly sensitive jerk.

All in the Family

 That fall after my mother’s phone call, my daughter was diagnosed with ADHD and started on medication. To say it changed her life is an understatement. She said the noise in her had brain stopped, and that she was now able to focus on school and her extracurriculars. She medaled in both of her sports that year, her report cards were completely different, and her friendships blossomed. All of the tools she had learned in therapy finally clicked, and I watched her put them into practice every day.

I was diagnosed with ADHD and started medication a few months later, which also changed my life. I couldn’t believe it at first. I had been using mindfulness, dialectical behavior therapy skills, lists, planners, and other tools and systems for years, and now I understood why I was often so exhausted. While I still use these tools, medication settled something inside that has allowed me to flourish.

[Read: “Let Me Tell You How ADHD Runs in My Family”]

But the biggest change ADHD brought was in my relationship with my mom and daughter. Knowing that my mom struggles with time because of ADHD — that it’s not because she doesn’t care — allows me to stay grounded when it happens. I recognize that interruptions aren’t personal, and I let others know when I need uninterrupted time. Most profoundly, our diagnoses have given us a lens into understanding each other’s idiosyncrasies and that something might be ‘an ADHD thing.’ For my daughter, it’s negative thoughts. For me, it’s irritation. And for my mom, it’s needing to say or act on each thought, lest she forget it right away.

For my mom and me, in particular, our present diagnoses offer a lens into our past challenges. We’re able to forgive each other and know that we weren’t just doing life wrong. That it wasn’t because we didn’t love each other – it was just undiagnosed ADHD getting in the way.

Managing ADHD Across Generations

If you’re part of an intergenerational ADHD family, here are a few tips from us – three generations of women with ADHD. I hope some of them are helpful for your and your family, too.

• Learn as much as you can about ADHD. Whether you watch webinars, read books, or listen to podcasts, find reputable sources of information and soak them up. Explore what tools fit for you and put them in action.
• Keep in mind that what works for you might not work for other family members with ADHD. We all have our individual personalities and temperaments, and ADHD might express itself differently even within your nuclear family.
• Practice self-compassion. We all struggle, and those of us with ADHD are bombarded with negative messages that often become our internal self-talk. Self-compassion can slow things down, allow us to be kinder to ourselves, and set an example for our children.

ADHD Family: Next Steps

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By Leslye Folmar-Harris, Ed. M.

Folmar-Harris, an accomplished teacher, clearly exhibited signs of ADHD since childhood, but was only diagnosed in adulthood — an unfortunate reality for many women of color. In this blog post, she grapples with the possible causes behind her late diagnosis, from internalized stigma to cultural attitudes.

“I was also unwilling to consider that I could have ADHD because, let’s face it, you can’t be Black in America and have something else wrong with you,” she writes. “I already have so many obstacles to vault because of my race. What would happen, then, if I did have ADHD? Would others think I’m not qualified for my career or anything else anymore?”

The writer acknowledges that it’s easy to fall into the trap of wondering “what could have been” had the diagnosis come earlier. But she’s given herself a second chance: “You can either get stuck on what you could have been,” she writes, “or you can focus on how much you’ve accomplished in spite of it all.”

Read “I Could Have Been Myself for So Much Longer.”

Related Reads and Resources

Boredom is our nemesis.

Like kryptonite for ADHD brains, boredom is worse than intolerable — it’s downright painful. Low dopamine levels, however, mean that ADHD brains frequently find themselves in a state of boredom — a major problem when it comes to starting and persisting on life’s daily tasks and long-term goals. Boredom, simply put, fuels procrastination and thwarts motivation. It doesn’t help that, in our current digital age, it is far too easy to seek relief from mind-numbing boredom with equally mind-numbing entertainment.

Boredom has a better antidote: Play.

Further defined, play is intrinsically motivated, creative action that brings joy. From recreational games to artistic expression, play comes in many forms that all share one thing in common: They spark feelings of delight and happiness. The laughter, fun, and excitement of play boosts dopamine, releases feel-good hormones, and helps us – yes, even those with ADHD — positively reframe uncomfortable emotions like boredom.

Find your inner CHILD to put more play in your day and stave off boredom with these tips.

[Read: 9 Shortcuts to Happiness]

1. Curiosity is your guide

Be curious about people, places, and the world around you. Notice that person ahead of you in line and take a guess at what interests them. Cue in to the song playing in the restaurant bathroom and dance along. Wonder about the design of the conference room at your workplace and how it helps facilitate meetings (or not!). Through curiosity, you’ll open yourself up to all the playful moments that exist in every corner of life.

2. Hoard it for yourself

When you engage in play, do so for the pure joy of doing something fun for yourself. Hoard those moments so they remain magical and special to you – your fun little secrets. Avoid rushing to capture and share every one of these moments via social media. Doing so can turn what is supposed to be joyful into a plea for external validation. If you must share, journal it out.

3. Imitate children

Kids know how to play and be in the moment. Notice the fun the children in your life are having and join in! Sing along if your child is singing a song. Tell corny jokes. Giggle! Think about what you played as a child and brainstorm ways to do something similar today. Liked LEGOs? Get a new set or get creative with other ways of constructing. Loved to be outdoors? Find hiking trails, rock climbing spots, parks, or ponds that would feed your need for nature.

4. Laugh

If you’re not laughing, you’re not playing (or being playful)! A sense of humor can help you loosen up and see things – even that task you’re putting off because of boredom – from a different angle. Think of what makes you laugh and try to squeeze those moments into your day. If you enjoy being around people, spend time with friends chuckling about the week’s mishaps. For the more intellectually entertained, check out some wordplay puzzles or strategy games that make you snicker. Enjoy lighthearted fun? Then play with your spontaneity and improvise your way through a date night while giggling about your experience. Want to be whimsical? Try out something new and unusual and laugh about the memories you are creating.

[Read: How to Find Humor in Everyday with ADHD]

5. Develop games

In the words of Mary Poppins: “In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun and snap — the job’s a game!” So, heed her advice and turn your boring jobs and tasks into games. Can you finish washing the dishes before your favorite song ends? Can you write all of your daily work emails without using the word “but”? As you sit at the doctor’s office, can you alphabetically pick out objects around you until you reach the last letter? Games are everywhere—you just need to task yourself to find them.

How to Not Be Bored: Next Steps

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CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
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I talk too much.

For as long as I can remember, the urge to express and connect has been a constant one, for better or worse. On the plus side, I find my gift of gab makes me incredibly transparent. People don’t often have to wonder what I’m thinking, and I’ve never been accused of being duplicitous or inauthentic.

Being hyperverbal has other benefits, too. From the moment my kids were born, I talked to them incessantly, seizing every opportunity to impart my personal musings on various topics of interest — photosynthesis and the water cycle; the earth and space; the genius of the Coen Brothers; the history of feminism; the Civil Rights movement; the Trail of Tears; Frodo and the Ring, and the merits of Beck as an artist — in exhaustive detail. They could both speak in complete sentences before age one, and now that they’re big kids, we all overcommunicate.

More often, though, my excessive talking gets me into trouble. Like most people with ADHD, I struggle with emotional regulation and impulse control, which, for me, frequently manifests in unfiltered verbal output. This can make me seem friendly and approachable (I am), but it can also be off-putting and make conversations terribly awkward. I tend to overshare personal information or express fleeting thoughts and emotions without considering how they might be perceived. Because I care tremendously about other people’s feelings (empath, here), I experience deep regret following many social interactions, especially when I realize I’ve been insensitive to another person’s perspective, or when I’ve said something that I don’t truly mean.

Once, at the end of a key long-term relationship in my young life, a former romantic partner told me I had “no tact at all,” and although it was a bit of an overstatement, I had to admit that he wasn’t entirely wrong. The advent of social media made this personal shortcoming even more problematic; I had an immediate public forum for my impulsive speech and, despite the occasional frantic deleting of regretful posts on my part, there are some who have severed their connections with me as a result. This kind of reaction from others — real or perceived, digital or in person — exacerbated another defining ADHD trait for me: rejection sensitive dysphoria.

Hyperverbal to Hyperactive: Linking Excessive Talking to ADHD

I started therapy, at last, when I realized my untreated ADHD was kind of ruining my life. My thoughtful and astute therapist introduced me to the idea that hyperactivity can be mental as well as physical, and he told me that I had been misdiagnosed with inattentive ADHD as a young adult. He noted that, in fact, I experience the hyperactive component of ADHD in the form of overwhelmingly chaotic thought and speech.

[Symptom Test: Could You Have Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria?]

After a few sessions, my therapist told me I have “the most glaringly obvious case of combined ADHD” he has ever seen, and suggested that I channel some of my hyperactivity into daily exercise.

Exercise and Therapy: Outlets for Chaotic Chatter

As a former high school athlete and lifelong lover of most sports and the outdoors, I didn’t think myself a complete stranger to regular exercise. But between poor time management (thanks again, ADHD), the demands of parenting, pandemic stress, plain old anxiety, and a colorful variety of unhealthy coping mechanisms, I had unknowingly slipped into some sedentary habits. I didn’t realize how much I was missing a physical outlet. As I began to rediscover the peace and mental clarity that exercise had to offer, I also learned just how much it improved my ADHD symptoms.

After some laps in the pool, a bike ride along a greenway, a few strength training sets, or even a simple power walk around the neighborhood, I find that my working memory and executive functioning are better. I also have a greater capacity for emotional regulation and impulse control, both of which allow me to navigate social situations and other challenges more effectively.

In addition to routine exercise, therapy itself has been extremely effective in curbing my impulsive speech. My therapist is a caring, compassionate, unbiased professional who provides a safe environment in which I can dump out my racing thoughts, examine them, piece together the fragments, store those of sense and value, and leave the rest behind. Through cognitive behavioral therapy, I realized that the negative behaviors I had developed over time were an absolute drain on the finite amount of energy I possess for interaction and self-regulation.

[Read: “Oversharing Is My Default Mode. So Is the RSD-Induced Shame I Feel Afterward.”]

From practicing mindfulness and spending time in nature to writing and even getting eight hours of sleep at night, I have found a way to replenish the energy that daily life — work, household chores, investing in my kids, listening to my spouse, transitioning between tasks, problem-solving, decision-making, and yes, filtering my thoughts during social interactions — requires of me. When I find myself feeling low-energy, I try to fall back on one of the strategies that have been helping to charge my batteries.

There are still moments when I feel overwhelmed, overstimulated, or socially anxious. I sometimes feel as if I might spontaneously combust if I don’t say something to break the tension. I would be lying if I said I never wonder to myself why I’m still talking as I babble semi-coherently about some inane thing or other. I would also be lying if I said I didn’t go home after a social event just to overanalyze every unchecked word I uttered to someone. Still, I’m learning to manage my impulses more regularly, one conversation at a time.

Talking too Much and ADHD: Next Steps

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CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
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Popular media and big-box commercials paint the back-to-school season as an exciting time, full of fresh starts and fresh school supplies. But for parents of kids with learning and thinking differences, like ADHD and dyslexia, the reality is more challenging.

Understood.org’s Back-to-School Stress Study, conducted online by The Harris Poll, revealed that parents of neurodivergent children feel a lot of stress about the back-to-school season. In fact, 94% of these parents said they feel anxious or stressed at summer’s end. Many also said they feel unprepared or scared.

The study found that parents of kids with learning and thinking differences are more likely to feel lonely than are parents without neurodivergent children.

[Free Resource: The Ultimate Back-to-School Toolkit]

The stigma around ADHD often leaves parents feeling isolated and unsupported. Sometimes other people just don’t get it. They may misinterpret a bright and capable child who is struggling as “bratty” or unwilling to “put in the work.” Until more people understand learning and thinking differences, parents of these kids will face an exhausting and often solitary battle.

The transition back to school is often very different and much harder than it is for other parents who don’t face the same challenges. But there are steps parents can take to reduce the stress, feel less isolated, and make starting the new school year a bit easier.

Here are five things that neurodivergent families can do at the start of each new school year.

1. Create Clear Expectations

Because kids with ADHD and learning differences process information differently than their neurotypical peers, new situations may overwhelm them. To help, create simple daily schedules. Talk about their new classes and teachers. If your child is attending a new school, schedule a few visits beforehand. Familiarity helps simplify routines for a child whose brain has trouble filtering through new information.

2. Practice Self-Regulation

For children with ADHD, new situations can trigger anxiety. Talk about calming techniques like deep breathing, exercise, or connecting with a friend. Learning how to manage physical reactions to stress can help kids deal with new situations.

[Sign Up for ADDitude’s Free Back-to-School Master Class]

3. Communicate with Teachers

A child with ADHD needs their teacher to be an ally. Share insights about your child’s strengths and challenges within the first few weeks of school. Discuss whether you’ll text, call, or email — and how often. This way, you can advocate for your child and suggest strategies before issues arise.

4. Rehearse Self-Advocacy Skills

Children find it easier to navigate high-stress situations when they know how to regulate their bodies and have permission to do so. Rehearse how your child can ask their teacher for a break. If your child can’t do that verbally, create a card they can share with the teacher to self-advocate.

5. Find a Community

It’s crucial for parents to join a community where they can connect with other parents and experts who understand what they’re going through. Understood.org’s Wunder app offers parents access to credible resources and experts. And they can connect with parents like them in a judgment-free space.

It’s OK — and normal — to be worried about a new school year. But taking these steps and finding a supportive community can help you start the year feeling more confident and energized.

Back-to-School Tips: Next Steps

Andrew Kahn, Psy.D., is Associate Director, Behavior Change and Expertise at Understood.

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CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
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Are you exhausted after socializing with friends? Do you feel like hiding away from the world at the end of each workday? Well, you’re not alone.

Before I was diagnosed with ADHD, I considered myself an introvert who absolutely needed regular breaks after any kind of social interaction. I’d take naps after work, exhausted from my teaching job (I reasoned that I had chosen the wrong career), as I needed to recover before making dinner and tending to family responsibilities.

But as I learned more about how neurodivergent individuals experience the world, I realized that socializing (at any level) and its effects on us extend well beyond simple notions of introversion and extroversion. It’s a lot more nuanced and complicated than that.

For many of us, our days are a meticulous balancing act. We try to manage our symptoms — which literally affect how we socialize — on top of emotional dysregulation and sensory differences, all while masking that we have anything going on with us. Is it any wonder that interacting with the outside world in any capacity leaves us feeling drained and irritable?

Navigating social exhaustion is a two-fold process. It is equally about prevention and about having the right tools to bounce back when it does happen. If you’re like me, I offer you these five strategies to help you avoid and recover from social exhaustion.

1. Pay close attention to your body.

I’ve learned to recognize the subtle signals my body sends — from slight irritability and the beginnings of fatigue — to indicate that my social exhaustion levels are rising. Before I was diagnosed, I’d ignore these signs and push through, which would only lead to social burnout. Now, I try to check in with myself throughout the day, especially when I’m socializing more than usual.

[Read: ADHD Fatigue Is a Real (Exhausting) Thing]

2. Select the communication method that works best for you.

Face-to-face conversation is often pushed as the ideal way to communicate, but I don’t think I’d be alone in saying that many of us prefer a method of communicating that is, should I say, less in-your-face.

Face-to-face communication fatigues me because I’m working hard to listen to the person’s words while analyzing their body language, navigating uncomfortable eye contact, and masking to avoid judgment and meet expectations I think others have of me.

While I don’t mind face-to-face talk in small doses, I much prefer non-verbal avenues to keep in touch with friends, such as messenger apps, text messages, and e-mail. I find it alleviates a lot of the aforementioned expectations that quickly lead to social exhaustion.

On that note…

3. Connect with like-minded people.

Have you ever felt an instant connection with someone of the same neurotype as you? Having like-minded friends who like to socialize and connect in the same way I do feels like a lifeline. After all, it’s not like I don’t appreciate connecting with others. It’s just that I, like many other neurodivergent individuals, need to connect in different ways and doses than most neurotypical people do.

[Read: “My Best Friend Doesn’t ‘Tolerate’ My ADHD. She Values It.”]

I have a handful of friends with whom I can have conversations made up entirely of memes and videos, no words needed. It allows us to maintain a healthy connection on our own terms.

4. Set boundaries.

Yes, setting boundaries is hard. Socializing can sometimes feel obligatory, as we want to avoid potentially hurting others’ feelings if we reject their invites and attempts at connecting.

I would often say yes to things that I knew would exhaust me. That was until someone put it to me this way: When you say yes to something, you are ultimately saying no to something else. It absolutely changed how I decided what I would commit to. If you say yes to attending yet another work happy hour or to staying late to volunteer when you’ve already had a long day, it might mean that you’re saying no to time with your kids, to energy you could’ve used for a hobby you love, or to the down time you know you need to persevere through the rest of the week.

5. Schedule recovery time.

When I know I’ve hit my socializing limit, I schedule a day free from virtually all human interaction. I call it a reboot day. I put my phone away and shut off everything that signals social obligation. I also surround myself with my favorite snacks, my pets, and a good book or a new movie. It’s the reset I need to keep me going; your reset may look different from mine.

In all, there are so many ways to bounce back after social exhaustion. Often, it’s simply a case of trial and error to find out what works for you.

Social Exhaustion and ADHD: Next Steps

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CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
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The first time I remember feeling different from others was in primary school. I was about 6 years old, and the local firefighters had just wrapped up their visit to our school (a highly anticipated event). We were to spend the remainder of the day drawing and coloring. The day couldn’t get any better!

I gazed at my teacher for instructions, but as the words left her mouth, they floated into a pink twisty cloud before they evaporated into thin air, as they always seemed to do.

I asked, “Miss, can we draw anything?”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “And make it as big and colorful as you want.”

So off I went. I was determined to use every crayon we had. As I drew, a thought entered my head: Why weren’t my classmates using all the colors like I was? I mean, that’s what the teacher had told us. It was an unequivocal, clear instruction. They’re silly. They didn’t listen. I sniggered to myself, so proud of my listening skills as I continued to draw.

When I finished, I confidently marched up to the teacher to show her my drawing. The reaction on her face wasn’t what I was expecting. “Oh, that’s very nice, but why have you drawn a set of balloons?” she asked.

[Read: What I Wish My Son’s Teachers Knew About Him and ADHD]

All of a sudden, my stomach curled inwards. I felt heat rising from my neck, up through my cheeks, almost in perfect time to the rising chorus of laughs throughout the room.

“Oh no, she drew some balloons!” a student said. As I dared myself to gaze around the class, I noticed, to my horror, drawing after drawing of fire engines. Of course, some kids had only managed to draw a couple of wheels or the beginnings of a fireman, but there was no doubt that each and every kid in that class had followed what the teacher had asked them to do. Except me.

And so began my introduction to feeling like the one who never quite got it.

Understanding the Neurodivergent Brain

My life has been peppered with times when my brain didn’t process information in the same way that my peers’ brains had. In those moments, I was often brought back to the acute vulnerability I felt as a child.

But since becoming a learning differences specialist, I have been fortunate to learn a lot more about brain differences. I understand that we all process and learn differently — we are not robots designed to perfectly compute every piece of information we receive in the same manner. I also understand that differences in cognitive processing can affect areas like attention, memory, focus, and problem-solving, and impact so many areas of life, especially for neurodivergent individuals.

[Read: How Teachers Can Initiate and Promote Inclusive Education]

I know and appreciate the fact that intelligence is multifaceted and complex, and that we all exhibit unique strengths across different domains of intelligence. That intelligence can’t be reduced to a single type. Some people may excel in logical reasoning, while others may have exceptional artistic or interpersonal skills. Traditional tools that measure intelligence, such as IQ tests, only capture a limited aspect of human intelligence and may not reflect an individual’s full range of abilities.

With all we know about the brain, and with a greater understanding and acceptance of differences in functioning, I look at words like ‘stupid,’ ‘lazy,’ and ‘slow’— words that should have never had a place in our vocabulary to start — with such disdain and confusion. With such diversity in brain processing and functioning, how could these terms have ever applied?

Embracing Neurodiversity

Today, I am much more self-assured and comfortable about exposing my ‘vulnerabilities.’ If I am simply not getting what’s going on in a meeting, I raise my hand and say that I don’t understand, or I ask if the talking point can be explained in a more visual way. If that’s not possible, I explain that I will take some time to process the information and will follow up (missing word here) if I still have questions.

Being open about the way my brain processes the world, I’ve noticed, encourages others to reveal their own differences. It creates a different dynamic in the room, where the energy is open and honest. It’s a dynamic I strive for all children — especially neurodivergent youth —to experience. With one in five people being neurodivergent, children need ample opportunity to witness and embrace the rich diversity of human brain function. That’s how they can develop the confidence to accept and embrace their own brains, differences and all, without shame.

Neurodivergent Brains: Next Steps

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CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF ADDITUDE
Since 1998, ADDitude has worked to provide ADHD education and guidance through webinars, newsletters, community engagement, and its groundbreaking magazine. To support ADDitude’s mission, please consider subscribing. Your readership and support help make our content and outreach possible. Thank you.

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