Reframing Adult ADHD—A Personal Journey

We call it ADHD. But does it really matter what we call it? Labels are convenient placeholders, yet they often fail to capture the fullness of an experience. I’ve sometimes joked about calling it “George” just to highlight how arbitrary names can be. Society terms it a “condition,” a “disorder,” a deviation from the norm. But what if we reframed that perspective altogether?

The Diagnosis and Its Aftermath

I lived 42 years before I learned that I was neurodivergent; that my relentless struggle to fit into a world not built for me had a name: Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Hearing that label, “disorder,” stopped me in my tracks. Was I “less than”? For so long I had contorted myself, as if I were a square peg forced into round holes, never considering that maybe I needed to find more square holes instead.

At the time of my diagnosis, I had a family, a career in marketing, a home, and all the trappings of success. Yet suddenly, I felt lacking. I wondered: If I accomplished all this while “deficient,” what could I have done if I’d known sooner? This question defined my initial response—three years marked by mourning and regret.

A Period of Mourning

After the formal diagnosis, my mind spiralled. All I could see were missed opportunities. Instead of celebrating my achievements, I fixated on how much more I might have accomplished had I understood my divergent brain wiring from the start. I mourned the person I thought I should have been. The label “deficit” weighed heavily. It felt official: I was lacking, incomplete.

Medication provided a degree of relief—helping me better align my behaviors with neurotypical expectations—but at first, I used it only to appear “normal.” I saw medication not as a tool for self-understanding but to erase my differences. In retrospect, I realize I was still trying to fit that round hole, still trying to be someone I wasn’t.

Shifting the Narrative

A turning point came when I read?Delivered from Distraction?by Dr. Ned Hallowell. This book became my “ADHD Bible,” a guide that showed me there wasn’t just one way to succeed in this world. I could reframe the narrative: ADHD didn’t have to be an oppressive label. It could simply describe my unique way of processing the world.

With this shift in perspective, I recognized that what I needed wasn’t to “fix” myself but to understand myself. Rather than force conformity, I could adapt and build a life that celebrated my differences. Gradually, I stopped trying to mold myself into a shape that wasn’t mine and began looking for places and people that valued the shape I naturally held.

A New Path

In time, I realized I no longer wanted to return to traditional marketing roles. One day, after a coffee meeting that offered a potential path back into my old career, I came home and told my wife that I wanted to take a leap of faith. I wanted to jump off a cliff into something unknown—no parachute, no defined landing—and I asked if she would hold my hand and jump with me. She did.

I enrolled in training at the ADD Coach Academy. I immersed myself in learning about ADHD, not just for personal understanding but as a new calling. Then, in 2014, I opened my coaching practice. I started small—locally, humbly, passing out posters, talking to pharmacists, trying to get referrals from doctors’ offices. Over time, my practice grew organically, fueled by new insights, generous partnerships, and, eventually, a steady stream of clients from around the world.

Lessons from a Decade of Coaching

After working with hundreds of clients and accumulating thousands of coaching hours, I’ve learned a few universal truths:

1. People Are People:

No matter their income, profession, or background, all humans wrestle with insecurities and doubts. Whether you are a doctor, artist, electrician, or business executive, the internal struggles are remarkably similar. The difference for those with ADHD is often one of intensity: highs are higher, lows are lower, and emotional valleys can be both deeper and wider.

2. ADHD Is Not a Deficit:

ADHD isn’t a failed version of normal. It’s not a flawed template. It’s simply a different way of functioning. The world is largely built by and for neurotypical minds, so those who are neurodivergent are often framed as “less than.” But in the right context, these differences can be profound strengths. The goal isn’t to become someone else—it’s to understand yourself deeply enough to chart your own path.

3. Tailoring Environments for Neurodivergent Minds:

Whether it’s a child in school or an adult in the workplace, success often comes down to environment and approach. Traditional systems value certain skills—memorization, repetition, standardized testing—above others. Yet neurodivergent individuals may excel in areas these systems overlook. When we guide rather than force, nurture rather than shape, we discover hidden talents and unique contributions. We must learn to ask: “What are they good at?” rather than “Why can’t they fit in?”

Medication and Self-Understanding

Medication can be an invaluable tool, but it’s just that—a tool. Taken to become “normal,” medication can feel like erasure. Used as part of a broader strategy of self-discovery, it can help individuals with ADHD develop routines and strategies that honor their values and enhance their natural strengths. The balance lies in conforming just enough to navigate the world without compromising your authenticity.

Reframing and Moving Forward

Reframing takes time. It’s not about a quick fix or a few Q&A sessions. It’s a fundamental transformation of self-perception—a realignment of identity. For me, it required years to shift from mourning what I wasn’t to celebrating what I am.

Today, I know that ADHD is not a disorder at all. It’s a different lens through which I experience life. This lens brings certain challenges, but it also offers creativity, depth, resilience, and passion. The key is recognizing that the world needs more square holes, not fewer square pegs.

Conclusion

Whatever we call it—ADHD, neurodivergence, or simply human variation—it’s part of the natural spectrum of how minds work. We must move beyond labels as markers of defect and learn to see them as descriptions of difference.

By embracing this perspective, we allow individuals with ADHD to step into their power. We open the door to richer lives and more diverse contributions. It’s not about fitting into a mold that doesn’t suit us; it’s about creating new spaces where we can thrive.

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Brett Thornhill?was diagnosed with ADHD at 42, prompting him to leave a nearly 20-year marketing career to embark on a journey of self-discovery. This led to the creation of what he termed “Brett 2.0,” where he finally started embracing his true self. Motivated by his experiences, Brett became a Professional ADHD Coach, completing advanced training with the ADD Coach Academy. In the ten years since he launched his coaching career, he has been privileged to work with hundreds of clients with a vast array of cultural and professional backgrounds across six continents.

For more information on Brett’s services, visit: BrettThornhill.com