To self-diagnose or not self-diagnose?
I’ll start by saying that I don’t have ADHD.
But I did go through a period where I thought I might have. This left me with two possibilities:
Decide that my knowledge of ADHD was sufficient to self-diagnose and begin to act accordingly.
Get a professional opinion.
Let me backtrack a little bit.
I started by trying to understand Dyslexia, which I am diagnosed with. Since there is an overlap between dyslexia and ADHD, I quickly learned that studying one usually involves getting to know the other in some way. The more I read about ADHD, the more I felt it described me. Speaking to friends with ADHD, I realised I could deeply relate.
I spoke about this with my doctor, who referred me to a clinical psychologist, and thanks to the health care in Austria and the relatively short waiting lists at the time, I got assessed without paying hundreds of euros privately.
The tests included things like listening to sounds and watching patterns on a grid at the same time; pressing a button when I saw or heard a change; doing some simple maths where I had to remember my answer from two questions ago to answer the current question (I bombed at this; and, most spectacularly, watching a horizontal line wobble up and down for half an hour and then pressing a button when its wobble became a bit bigger (this happened about 4-5 times in half an hour…!)
The results…
No ADHD. The psychologist said something like this:
“Look, you may well be chaotic. You may well have a broad attentional field that filters things out poorly. You may face challenges in your life because of it. It may significantly contribute to your creative endeavours. However, the likelihood that your neurophysiology fits the criteria for ADHD is extremely low. If I were to give you the diagnosis and you were to get on Ritalin, it’s doubtful it would help you and could even be harmful.”
My initial reaction — I was annoyed, to be honest. I wanted the relief of knowing that at least some of my problems could be explained by ADHD. After a few weeks of chewing on it, I found another psychologist and got a second opinion. She listened carefully to my reasons for seeking a second opinion and affirmed their validity. She ran a different battery of tests, and the results? The same. Clear ADHD-like tendencies, no ADHD diagnosis.
Where am I now with it?
Since getting this clarity, I have noticed, spending time with people who are actually diagnosed with ADHD, that, whilst the characteristics — strengths and weaknesses — are very similar, there are ways in which they take it that bit further… On top of this, I struggle with things that are generally no issue for them (like producing coherent text* without excessive trouble).
So, do I think it’s possible I have something like a sub-clinical version of ADHD? Certainly.
Do I find the non-pharmacological strategies recommended to people with ADHD helpful? Absolutely.
Can I relate to the challenges people with ADHD face? You bet.
Is it fun living in a semi-ambiguous grey zone? Not really.
Would I recommend self-diagnosis? No!
Now, don’t get me wrong. Misdiagnosis happens. Underdiagnosis happens. Getting access to the clinical infrastructure to get diagnosed is impossible for many people for many reasons. This is a serious problem.
If you read up on a particular neurodivergence and feel you relate to it, it’s possible that a diagnostician would see it the same way. Beyond this, I believe it is helpful to stay close to the facts — you relate to the label and may see some benefit in having the label, whether access to accommodations or by “localising” a root to things you struggle with that is specific and non-pervasive — fair enough. However, at that point, you have a suspicion of a condition. You don’t know if you have that condition or not.
If you want the label and have access to diagnostics, then I strongly encourage you to get an appointment in your calendar to see a qualified professional.
If you don’t have that access, for whatever reason, then it’s worth exploring the non-pharmacological, non-medical interventions (like exercising for your brain, getting better sleep, exploring basic methods of emotional self-regulation, seeing a neurodiversity coach, etc.) and see if they help. But if you run around saying you have XYZ when, in fact, you don’t, that comes with a whole set of problems.
Neurodiversity is about the whole spectrum of possibilities of the human brain. It is an inclusive term. You may be an outlier in some way without needing a diagnostic label — you might be particularly open-minded, empathetic, or even anxiety-prone and still be in a “normal range”, clinically speaking. Celebrate your differences. If you have a diagnostic label, wear it as openly or privately as you like. But if you don’t have a label, it’s probably best to leave that to the professionals.
*I just edited this post because I realised I didn’t include the word “text” in that sentence. Oh, the poetic irony!
