When was the moment you realised you might have ADHD?
For many women, the realisation doesn’t come in childhood. It often comes decades later, and it’s rarely a single lightbulb moment. More often, it’s a slow dawning, a breadcrumb trail of signs and clues that eventually become too loud to ignore.
Historically, ADHD has been significantly under-recognised in women and girls. The diagnostic criteria developed in the 1980s and formalised in the DSM-III and later the DSM-IV (1994) were based almost entirely on research with young white boys who displayed external, hyperactive traits. Girls, who were more likely to internalise their symptoms, mask them, or present as inattentive rather than disruptive, simply didn’t fit the mould. And so, they were often overlooked, misdiagnosed, or dismissed altogether.
It wasn’t until the late 1990s and early 2000s that researchers and clinicians began to seriously question these gender disparities. One of the first to raise awareness was Dr. Patricia Quinn, a developmental paediatrician who wrote extensively about how ADHD presents in girls. Alongside her, Dr. Kathleen Nadeau, a clinical psychologist, highlighted the emotional and social struggles girls face with undiagnosed ADHD. Together, their work began to shift the conversation, though it would take years before that awareness filtered into mainstream clinical practice.
Even today, the system is still catching up. The DSM-5, published in 2013, made small but important changes, acknowledging that ADHD can persist into adulthood and present differently across genders. But the criteria still remain skewed toward childhood behaviours and observable disruption, meaning many adult women continue to be missed.
In recent years, especially since 2020, during and after the Covid lockdowns, there’s been a noticeable surge in women recognising ADHD in themselves. Social media, podcasts, personal essays and online communities have played a huge role in this. Women were home more, reflecting on their lives, parenting their children, struggling with executive function under pressure, and many found themselves asking: Could this be me, too?
I often hear from women who noticed ADHD traits in their children first. They were researching how best to support their child and, in the process, began to see the same struggles in themselves, distractibility, emotional overwhelm, difficulty organising, chronic guilt, and burnout. For others, it was a social media post, a podcast, or a book that hit too close to home.
For many, it’s not just a personal epiphany, it’s a deeply emotional reckoning. The mix of relief, grief, and anger is common: relief to finally have a name for their lifelong struggles, grief for all the years spent thinking they were lazy, careless, or simply "not good enough", and anger at the system that failed to recognise them sooner.
We still have work to do. The diagnostic process in the UK and elsewhere remains inconsistent, waiting lists are long, and many healthcare professionals still lack training in how ADHD presents in adult women. The criteria still don't fully reflect the lived experiences of women across different life stages, particularly perimenopause and menopause, where ADHD symptoms often intensify.
This is why awareness matters.
The more we talk about this, the more likely it is that women will get heard, validated, and supported. We need clinicians to be curious, not dismissive. We need research that includes women. And we need diagnostic tools that evolve beyond outdated stereotypes.
So I’m wondering, when was the moment you started wondering if you might have ADHD?
You’re not alone in asking that question. And if you’ve only just started to explore this possibility, that’s OK. It’s never too late to begin understanding yourself with more clarity and compassion.