It has been an hour and a half, and the page is still blank, the clock ticking. The little numbers in the corner of my screen mutate every time I blink. 9am. 10am. 10.30am.
I have read the first half of ten stories. The tabs on my browser keep getting smaller and smaller as another idea pops into my head, and I must Google it straight away before I forget. I’ve listened to five minutes of a podcast. I’ve read three emails. I have got up to grab a little snack. And when I open Instagram for a mindless little scroll, I think, ah yes, this is me. The target audience for all those ADHD memes.
An anatomy drawing of a person doing a plank: “How it feels like for ADHD people to listen to someone finish a sentence they understood within the first few seconds”.
“We all have the same 24 hours.” “Well I have ADHD so I only have two.”
Two Spider-Man figures pointing at each other: “Not getting anything done because I’m too overwhelmed”. “Being overwhelmed because I haven’t gotten anything done.”
Though I have never been diagnosed with ADHD (or autism, another strand of neurodivergent memes beloved by my Explore page), social media has convinced me that I have it. I’ve always thought of myself as an impulsive, overthinking space cadet who gets easily overwhelmed. I always viewed these as flaws in my personality, something I alone should remedy. But these internet jokes unexpectedly made me feel seen, part of a community of people with a shared experience. Something we could affectionately laugh about and accept.
Nearly every peer I speak to is “convinced” they have adult ADHD. Is it because of the deluge of online content? Or are we just becoming more aware of it? Are all of these #ADHD traits even related to ADHD? Or just part of the human condition? It becomes easy to laugh off the frenetic way I clean my house or how I just can’t stop procrastinating when I really need to get something done. There is a chance that we are over-pathologising very normal behaviours.
It is incredibly difficult to get diagnosed with ADHD in Scotland unless you have a bulging wallet. To be assessed through the NHS takes years (waiting time data is patchy at best). Waiting lists have become so demanding in some areas that they have ceased assessment services altogether. Earlier this year, Aberdeenshire HSCP and NHS Forth Valley both announced they were closing their Adult Autism Assessment teams (who were also responsible for ADHD Assessments). NHS Tayside stopped taking referrals for children unless they have a pre-existing mental health condition.
To be diagnosed privately can cost anywhere from £600 to £1600, depending on the type of assessment and whether it includes follow-up appointments. At ADHD Scotland in Glasgow, a pre-assessment session is £120 and an ADHD assessment is £850. If you are diagnosed privately, you could end up having to foot the bill for your own Ritalin.
Now, we must think of the children because they are the ones who are truly getting the short end of the stick here. Children languishing on a waiting list for diagnosis can cause untold distress for families. In childhood, a diagnosis means schools have a better understanding of the child’s needs. It is also the first step towards possible medication to help with symptoms (another seemingly endless waiting list), as The Herald reported this week. An ADHD diagnosis can also help parents better understand what their child is experiencing. Failing the mental health of children in this country is awful. This is not to point the finger. Money is tight, resources are few and far between, and demand for mental health treatment is soaring. I draw a line between children and adults when it comes to the conversation about neurodevelopmental disorders.
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For a long time, ADHD was considered a condition that only affected children. It’s only been in the post-Covid years that adult awareness has exploded. Part of the reason for the surge in awareness around ADHD is Gabor Maté. The Canadian ‘trauma expert’ popularised the idea that the condition is not genetic, but rather shaped by early emotional experiences and the environment in his bestselling book, Scattered Minds (1999). He has since become a kind of international wellness celebrity who claims that the toxic trappings of modern life are to blame for our sick bodies and minds. I personally like the neat little bow that he ties around health, but he has been accused of quackery on a few occasions.
He has claimed that ADHD diagnosis "doesn’t mean anything”, referring to the circular logic that symptoms (impulsivity, absent-mindedness, hyperactivity) lead to diagnosis and then diagnosis explains the symptoms. “It’s not an explanation, it’s a description,” he says. Perhaps you recognise him from diagnosing Prince Harry with ADHD in a 2023 live TV interview.
Everyone is different. Me? I’m with Maté on this one. I don’t need to be diagnosed with ADHD. I perhaps need to stop trying to do too much, putting so much pressure on myself to be perfect, and stop doomscrolling during every free moment that I have to avoid the terrifying prospect of being alone with my thoughts for five minutes. I would not want to take up a precious diagnosis waiting list spot simply because an algorithm made me laugh with an “ADHD people doing anything other than they should be doing” meme.
I think Maté is right about taking a holistic approach to better mind health: having self-compassion, developing a consistent routine, seeking connection with other people, and avoiding stress and overstimulation from your surroundings. I’ve noticed one recurring comorbidity with all the ADHD content that I am fed – farm content. As if the antidote to the stresses of city life and always-on culture that plagues us is to leave it all behind and #FarmLife. If so many adults are convinced that they have a neurological disorder these days, that says a lot more about our society than it does the individual.
Aldous Huxley put it best when he wrote that the real victims of mental illness are the ones who appear to be normal: “Their perfect adjustment to that abnormal society is a measure of their mental sickness.”
Marissa MacWhirter is a columnist and feature writer at The Herald, and the editor of The Glasgow Wrap. The newsletter is curated between 5-7am each morning, bringing the best of local news to your inbox each morning without ads, clickbait, or hyperbole. Oh, and it’s free. She can be found on X @marissaamayy1
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