By Amelia Woodward, Communications and Engagement Officer 

“Amelia is a pleasure to have in class, but she gets distracted easily due to talking.”
“Amelia is a pleasure to have in class, but she needs to apply herself more.”
“Amelia is a pleasure to have in class, but she needs to be more consistent with completing homework on time.” 

Every school report I received said something along these lines. The sentiment was always the same: bright, but inconsistent. Capable, but distracted. 

It wasn’t until college that things started to click. A teacher casually asked me something, assuming I already had a diagnosis of Dyslexia and ADHD. That offhand comment planted a seed. I hadn’t seriously considered that there might be a deeper reason behind my struggles. 

The thought lingered in the back of my mind for a long time. Then, during a very typical late night at university, frantically trying to finish an assignment due in less than two hours, I slammed a book shut in frustration. After venting to my friend Caitlyn, who had been diagnosed with ADHD years earlier, she gently suggested I speak to the University’s Student Support team. 

The advisors were great. They carried out a Dyslexia assessment, which did lead to some helpful support, but Caitlyn kept nudging me to consider ADHD as well. She saw signs I’d brushed off - my high energy, my erratic time management, my ability to hyperfocus on things I loved, and my inability to concentrate on things I didn’t. 

As I did more research and had more conversations, it was like watching a picture slowly appear. The dots of behaviours, habits, and lifelong patterns began to connect. What I had always assumed were personal flaws or quirks started to look more like symptoms. 

Almost ten years later, and ironically, thanks to my own procrastination, I’m still waiting for an official ADHD assessment. In that time, what I now believe are symptoms of ADHD have cost me sleep, academic opportunities, and more money than I’d like to admit, having accidentally reordered items I already owned, bought supplies for half-finished DIY projects, and forgotten to cancel subscriptions I never used. 

I’ve also adapted. I’ve learned to work with my brain rather than against it. I keep meticulous daily to-do lists, rely on structured filing systems, and have built a routine-oriented lifestyle that helps me stay grounded. 

And there are upsides, too. 

My passion for DIY and problem-solving means I’ve picked up a surprising range of practical skills - I can usually fix things around the house myself. I’ve also channelled my hyperfocus into learning. I’m constantly seeking out new knowledge, signing up for training courses and qualifications. It’s made me the ideal pub quiz teammate - name a topic, and I probably have a fun fact ready. 

When I get interested in something, I go all in. Four years ago, I stumbled across an article about Ice Hockey and got curious. I went to one game and was instantly hooked. Now I volunteer behind the scenes and as an off-ice official for my local team. That unexpected passion has given me a ton of transferable skills and a community I didn’t know I needed. 

Stories like mine aren’t rare, they’re just often unseen. The more workplaces recognise and accommodate different ways of thinking and working, the more people like me can thrive, not just cope.  

For me, an official ADHD diagnosis would be more than a label. It would be a validation of everything I’ve experienced, a chance to understand myself more fully and finally get the right support. After all these years of questions, it would bring long-overdue answers.