Across India and other parts of the world, a growing number of adults are discovering that traits they once believed were personality flaws or laziness are actually symptoms of ADHD. For decades, Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder was thought to be a childhood condition, primarily identified in children who could not sit still in classrooms. But psychiatrists and psychologists now say that ADHD has always existed in adults; it simply went unrecognised. Many people, especially women, presented with inattention, impulsivity, and emotional sensitivity rather than obvious hyperactivity, leading to misdiagnosis or no diagnosis at all. The pandemic played a significant role in raising awareness. As people spent more time online, they encountered social media content describing experiences that mirrored their own struggles. This gave them the vocabulary to seek professional help. However, increased awareness has created a dual challenge: underdiagnosis among those who genuinely need support, and casual over-identification by others who use ADHD as a punchline. In India, stigma around psychiatric medication and strict regulation of stimulant drugs mean that many adults remain under-medicated rather than misusing prescriptions. Experts emphasise that ADHD is not just about difficulty focusing; it deeply affects emotional regulation, energy levels, and sensitivity to criticism. Adults diagnosed later in life often experience a mixture of relief and grief—relief that their struggles finally make sense, and grief for the years they spent blaming themselves. The shift from viewing ADHD as a deficit to recognising it as a form of neurodiversity is slowly gaining ground. Workplaces and families are beginning to understand that neurodivergent individuals bring creativity, problem-solving skills, and unique perspectives. Yet progress remains uneven, especially in India, where behavioural differences are often moralised rather than medicalised. Clinicians hope that growing recognition will lead to better training for doctors, insurance coverage for assessments, and public awareness campaigns that reduce stigma and increase access to proper diagnosis and treatment.
The Moment Everything Made Sense
Ashwami, a 37-year-old chef from Goa, spent years in therapy feeling well-versed in mental health language, yet something always felt out of reach. During the pandemic, a life coach noticed her difficulty sitting still even during reflection sessions. The coach asked if anyone had ever suggested ADHD testing. Ashwami replied no, assuming ADHD was only for children who could not pay attention in school. Within weeks, an online assessment revealed high scores on every ADHD marker. She felt immediate relief. For the first time, her struggles made sense, and she could approach herself with kindness. Similarly, Vandhana Ashok, a 35-year-old content creator from Chennai, thrived in structured teaching environments but felt completely lost after becoming a freelancer. She describes herself as time-blind, often late despite believing she understood time correctly. She always completed tasks last-minute, relying on luck and adrenaline. It was only after her sister was diagnosed that Vandhana realised she might have ADHD too. The assessment brought odd relief. Knowing there was a neurological reason for her struggles with everyday organisation lifted years of shame. People had questioned how she could live in disorganised spaces, but in her mind, it made sense. Understanding it was neurological, not a moral failing, changed everything.
Why Diagnoses Were Missed for Decades
Dr Deeksha Kalra, a psychiatrist based in Delhi, explains that ADHD in adults has always existed but is only now being recognised. It is not occurring more frequently; it is simply being identified more often. For decades, ADHD was nearly synonymous with hyperactivity. Teachers and parents were taught to look for children who could not sit still. However, many children, especially girls, presented with inattention, impulsivity, and emotional dysregulation rather than physical restlessness. These cases were often dismissed as laziness or daydreaming. Dr Itisha Nagar, a psychologist based in Delhi, adds that the rise in adult ADHD diagnoses is strongly linked to online communities. During the pandemic, people began reading about neurodivergence and hearing others describe experiences that mirrored their own. This gave them vocabulary to seek help. But awareness has also brought confusion. Dr Kalra points out a dual problem: underdiagnosis among those who need help, and over-identification by those who casually attribute forgetfulness to ADHD. This casualness dilutes what people with ADHD truly go through. At the same time, others who could benefit from assessment are discouraged by stigma. In India, even antidepressants carry shame, and stimulant medication for ADHD is tightly regulated, meaning people are often under-medicated rather than misusing drugs.
Emotional Intensity Beyond Attention Problems
ADHD shapes emotion as much as attention. Dr Nagar explains that the deeper issue is regulation of energy, mood, and emotion. Ashwami describes her energy as never steady; she can be very high or completely drained. She feels emotions too intensely, with even small rejections feeling like heartbreak. Vandhana remembers being told she was too emotional as a child. She would cry over small things and was told she was overreacting. Now she understands it is neurological. These patterns—emotional dysregulation, sensitivity to criticism, bouts of hyperfocus followed by burnout—are common among adults diagnosed later in life. Dr Nagar emphasises that the ADHD brain does not lack attention; it lacks regulation of attention. That is why hyperfocus is as much a symptom as distraction. In Bellingham, Washington, Mike Ortiz realised this at 30. A digital marketing professional, he was always late and overwhelmed, feeling like he constantly let people down. A doctor's question during a routine visit led to an ADHD assessment. The diagnosis brought validation. He was not broken; his brain simply worked differently. Mike channelled that difference into entrepreneurship, launching Canvas Monsters, a small business turning digital art into custom home decor. He stopped fighting his brain and started using it.
The Grief and Relief of Late Diagnosis
Adults who learn about ADHD in their thirties or forties often speak of grief for their younger selves. Ashwami reflects that it is like looking back and seeing how hard you tried, spending years thinking you were lazy or unreliable when you were just wired differently. Dr Nagar hears this frequently. People cry in her office, not because of the diagnosis itself, but because of the realisation that their struggles were never moral failings; they were neurological patterns. Vandhana agrees, saying it is freeing but also sad. She wonders what might have been different if someone had told her sooner. Perhaps she would have been kinder to herself. Sourav Banerjee, a 42-year-old advertising executive in Kolkata, recently diagnosed, says people still think ADHD means you are careless or spoiled. When he told colleagues, someone said everyone has concentration problems these days. They did not see how years of missed deadlines or lost files were not because he did not care, but because his brain works differently. The late diagnosis, while transformative, carries emotional costs. Yet it also offers a pathway to self-compassion and understanding that many never had before.
Managing ADHD and Shifting Perspectives
For many adults, management involves more than medication. Therapy helps rewire habits, and Cognitive Behavioural Therapy and coaching can address time blindness, task initiation, and emotional regulation. The goal is to work with your brain, not against it, Dr Nagar explains. Ashwami has learnt to plan differently. She keeps visual reminders, moves her body when she needs to reset, and gives herself permission to take breaks. She has stopped trying to be a morning person. Vandhana structures her day around her energy, not the clock. Some days she is hyper-productive, others she is not, and that is okay. For couples like the Ortizes, communication is key. They had to learn a new language. If Mike is overwhelmed, Andria does not take it personally. They talk about what is happening in his head, which has made their marriage stronger. The growing awareness of adult ADHD reflects a larger shift in how societies view neurodiversity. The conversation has moved from deficit to difference, from disorder to divergence. Some companies are introducing neurodiversity training or flexible policies recognising varying attention patterns. Yet progress remains uneven. Corporate India still prizes uniform productivity, often labelling neurodivergent employees as inconsistent. Clinicians believe inclusion begins with language and hope that growing recognition will spur policy changes, better training for doctors, insurance coverage for assessments, and public awareness campaigns.
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