ADHD, language and the things we don’t always mean to say

Following her ADHD diagnosis at 45, communications professional Kate Williams reflects on the language of neurodivergence and how small changes can help colleagues feel understood.

By Kate Williams

Four months ago, I was diagnosed with ADHD at the age of 45.

To kick off ADHD Awareness Month, I'm reflecting on the importance of language and how it has affected me since my diagnosis.

Like many other women around my age, I found that changes in hormone levels made me feel like I was losing my mind. I often googled, ‘Do I have dementia?’ But it was when I started researching ADHD for a young family member that I recognised some of the traits in myself. I prefer the word traits to symptoms. I began looking into late diagnosis in adults.

I used to be known as ‘the super organised friend’, with comparisons to Monica Geller in the American sitcom Friends. I never understood, as I despise cleaning, but I clearly gave that impression. Then, along came my forties. I was juggling a house, a family, a full-time job and perimenopause. Life became unmanageable. I was miserable and burnt out. This is not an uncommon story.

As someone who works in communications, I spend my working life thinking about the words we use and how they are received. Since my diagnosis, I've become much more conscious of how language can make people feel included, misunderstood or dismissed.

We have always had neurodivergent colleagues, but did they feel able to share it with us? At a time when more neurodivergent people are seeking answers and waiting years for an NHS diagnosis, what can we all do to help? A small step could be to think about the words we use and the impact they can have.

This is by no means a list of ‘what not to say’. These views are my reflections on things that have been said to me as a newly diagnosed person with ADHD. Other neurodivergent people may not blink an eye at some of the phrases in this list. We all have different preferences. There is no judgement here, and no blame apportioned. We are all learning.

‘ADHD is a superpower’

I know what people mean when they say this. They’re usually trying to highlight the strengths that can come with ADHD.

ADHD can come with strengths, and neurodivergent colleagues can bring a great deal to a communications team. We may have empathy, creativity and big-picture thinking. We can hyperfocus so intensely on a piece of work that we wouldn’t notice an earthquake.

However, there is a dark side too, and some days are bloody hard. For many people diagnosed later in life, there may also be a history of being misunderstood, misdiagnosed, or having to fight to advocate for themselves. So, while it’s lovely to be thought of as superhuman, it can be considered dismissive.

‘Does my child have ADHD?’

A newly diagnosed adult has a lot on their plate. I am still very much adjusting, even though I suspected it for some time (my husband claims he knew even longer). I think I am more neurodivergent since my diagnosis, and I think that’s because I’m dropping the mask. I am learning about why I react to things in a certain way. I am grieving for the things that could have gone very differently in my life if I had known I had ADHD (while also being grateful for all that I have), and I am re-learning how to do my job and live my life in a way that doesn’t lead to burnout.

I am more than happy to meet for a coffee and talk about neurodivergence with anyone, but perhaps do some research online first. There are ADHD books available in libraries, audiobooks and podcasts, and hundreds of people with ADHD raising awareness across social media.

As communications professionals, we carefully consider our audience and the right channels. In this case, late-night WhatsApp messages are not appropriate for ‘thinking out loud’. There is a distinction between being interested and supportive and expecting a newly diagnosed person to educate you. It’s very complex, very raw, and can be triggering.

‘I am a bit ADHD’

ADHD is not an adjective. Joking that you are a bit ADHD because you are always running late, for example, lacks tact and awareness. If you think about it, would you say ‘I’m a bit asthmatic’ because you get out of breath walking uphill?

I know it is usually intended as a throwaway comment rather than anything malicious. The issue isn’t simply that the grammar is wrong, but it’s that ADHD is being reduced to a collection of mildly irritating personality traits, such as lateness or forgetfulness.

‘We are all on the spectrum’

This one comes up a lot. Sometimes people don’t know how to talk about neurodivergence, so this is the first thing that springs to mind.

Anyone can have traits associated with ADHD or other forms of neurodivergence, including some that appear in diagnostic criteria. But that doesn’t mean they are necessarily neurodivergent. Saying everyone is living the neurodivergent experience is simply untrue.

‘Neurospicy’

Neurospicy is harmless, in my opinion, but much like Marmite, people have very different views on it. I understand the playful intention. But don't assume a playful term is automatically welcome just because you mean it affectionately. I suggest not using it to describe someone, or their child, unless they use it themselves.

As communicators, we know that words matter. Perhaps one of the simplest things we can do for our neurodivergent colleagues is to choose them with a little more care.