For most of my life, I felt different—but not in a special or celebrated way. I felt like I didn’t quite fit. I was often overwhelmed, emotional, distracted, and constantly told I was “too much” or “too sensitive.” I struggled with focus, impulsivity, and low self-worth. And for a long time, I blamed myself for all of it.
It wasn’t until I was in my 30s that I finally received an ADHD diagnosis. By then, I’d already lived through years of confusion, burnout, and internalised shame. But that moment; the clarity of finally understanding why I am the way I am, was life-changing.
The Impact of Being Undiagnosed
Growing up with undiagnosed ADHD caused deep and lasting effects in nearly every area of my life. I very often felt at odds with my family—there were tensions with my parents and sister that I couldn’t quite explain at the time, but now I understand they were at least partly due to my emotional intensity, forgetfulness, and executive function difficulties.
College was another uphill climb. I managed to pass my course, but only because my incredibly patient and supportive tutor would sit with me to help me finish tasks. I now know this kind of support is called “body doubling”—a widely used strategy among people with ADHD where simply having someone nearby helps us focus and complete tasks.
Employment was a cycle of impulsivity and burnout. I’d enthusiastically apply for jobs and do well in interviews—then once I started, the boredom would set in, my anxiety would spike, and I’d leave. This pattern repeated itself for years, leaving me feeling like I couldn’t hold anything down.
Relationships were difficult, too. I struggled with emotional regulation, rejection sensitivity, and intense fear of abandonment. My self-esteem was incredibly low, and I felt like I just couldn’t “do life” the way other people did.
All of this was further complicated by my at-the-time undiagnosed chronic condition, Adenomyosis. I was navigating a body in pain and a brain I didn’t understand—and I was expected to do it all without support or clarity. It’s no wonder everything felt so hard.
A Misdiagnosis That Didn’t Quite Fit
Before my ADHD diagnosis, I was originally told I had Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). Some aspects of that diagnosis did make sense as there’s a lot of overlap between BPD and ADHD, including impulsivity, emotional dysregulation, interpersonal challenges, rejection sensitivity, low self-esteem, and disordered eating (for me, this looked like emotional overeating).
But something didn’t sit right. When I attended a BPD group therapy session, I sat quietly listening to the therapist explain the typical patterns and behaviours associated with the diagnosis. As others shared their stories, I felt increasingly disconnected. I just couldn’t relate. It felt like everyone else was speaking a different language. After that session, I had a one-to-one with the therapist, and she agreed that the diagnosis didn’t seem to fit.
That moment was confusing—but also validating. It confirmed what I already felt in my gut: that I wasn’t being seen clearly. And it pushed me to keep asking questions, to keep seeking the real answers.
Finding Understanding, and Reclaiming My Power
When I finally received my ADHD diagnosis, something inside me shifted. It didn’t undo the struggles or the years of confusion, but it gave me a sense of clarity I’d never had before. I finally understood that I wasn’t broken or lazy, I was navigating life with a brain that simply works differently. That realisation alone lifted a weight I hadn’t even known I was carrying.
As I learned more about ADHD, I started to meet myself with compassion instead of criticism. I began to understand the why behind so many of my behaviours and with that understanding came the ability to be kinder to myself. I used to see chaos, inconsistency, and emotional intensity as signs that something was wrong with me. But now, I see creativity, adaptability, and depth.
Hyperfocus is a perfect example. Yes, it can be unpredictable and hard to manage, but when I’m locked into something I love, like designing my website or planning a new project I can become completely absorbed, working with incredible stamina and attention to detail. What used to feel like an “all or nothing” trait now feels like a kind of magic.
I’ve also come to see my emotional sensitivity and deep empathy as strengths. While it can be draining, especially in emotionally charged environments, it allows me to truly connect with others. I’m a good listener, and I care deeply; about people, about ideas, about creating things that make others feel seen and supported. That matters.
I’ve noticed I’m naturally intuitive and perceptive, often picking up on details others might overlook whether it’s someone’s mood, a shift in energy, or a need that hasn’t been voiced. That kind of quiet awareness helps me connect deeply with my kids and those around me. It’s not loud or flashy, but it’s powerful.
And then there’s the energy. I used to think of my restlessness and hyperactivity as annoying or disruptive, but now; especially as a mum to young boys, I see how much of a gift it can be. I have the energy to keep up, play and jump from task to task with them. That’s felt even more true since losing a significant amount of weight, which has helped me channel that energy in a healthier, more sustainable way.
More than anything, what this journey has taught me is that understanding ourselves, truly seeing and honouring how our brains and bodies work, is one of the kindest things we can do. It’s a radical form of self-care. For years I tried to mould myself into what I thought I “should” be, constantly pushing against how I naturally worked. But now, instead of fighting my needs, I’m learning to listen to them. I’ve swapped perfectionism for permission. I’ve let go of shame and made room for softness.
Self-care, for me, looks like creating routines that support the way my mind works, giving myself grace on the hard days, and celebrating my quirks instead of hiding them. It looks like treating myself with the same warmth and patience I’d offer a friend. Because once we stop judging ourselves for being different and start embracing that difference as a source of power, everything starts to change.
The Magic of Embracing What Makes You Different
ADHD still brings challenges. But now, I meet myself with more kindness. I recognise that my “too much-ness” is also my superpower. My creativity, intensity, and sensitivity are the very things that make me who I am—and they’ve shaped everything I’ve built at The Witch’s Hearth.
At The Witch’s Hearth, I want to build a space that welcomes those who feel different and those ready to step into their own power. You don’t have to shrink yourself to fit in. Your magic is needed, your voice matters, and your story is worth sharing.
Living authentically means accepting all parts of ourselves, especially the ones that society often misunderstands or dismisses. When we stop hiding, we invite others to do the same—and that’s how communities rooted in real connection and support grow.
Your difference is your strength. It fuels your creativity, your resilience, and your unique perspective on the world. When you honour that, you open the door to endless possibilities—both in how you live your life and how you impact those around you.
So, if you’ve ever felt like you don’t fit, or that your quirks and challenges make you less than enough, I want you to know this: you are exactly as you’re meant to be. Your story, your magic, and your presence are gifts the world needs right now.
You are not too much. You are just right, exactly as you are.
