Grief and liberation- Dealing with a late ADHD diagnosis
There's a specific moment I remember from third grade.
Mrs. Empson kept me after school one evening. I hadn't turned in homework for half the school year. Not because I couldn't do it — I finished all 20+ assignments in a couple of hours that night. She drove me home afterward, bewildered.
Nobody asked why a bright kid who could complete months of work in one sitting wasn't turning anything in. It was rural Nebraska in the 90s. I was quiet. I wasn't disruptive. I wasn't a "problem."
I just... forgot. Or got distracted. Or thought I'd already done it when I'd only done it in my head.
That's the story of my life, it turns out. Except I didn't know that until I was 39 years old.
The "Successful" Years
Fast forward three decades. I had crushed it, at least on paper:
Master's degree in Organizational Management
Bachelor’s degree in Environmental Resource Management
A comfortable career of 14 years and a promotion I'd pursued for five years (public face of the agency, the dream job)
Five years sober alongside my husband
A new home we'd been able to keep updating over the years
Luna, the best dog in the world
I should have been celebrating. Instead, I felt like I was watching my life from outside my body. Going through motions. Hitting marks. Feeling absolutely nothing.
Colleagues praised my work. Clients sent thank-you notes. My performance reviews were stellar. The accolades were pouring in…
And I felt like I was invisible.
The Diagnosis That Changed Everything
I found a psychiatrist in Rock Springs (miracle #1 in rural Wyoming). She told me I had a chemical imbalance that needed addressing before therapy would even work.
I was skeptical. Opposed to medication, honestly. But I was desperate.
Within ONE HOUR of taking my first dose, my soul snapped back into my body. I could feel again. Hope. Actual hope for the first time in years.
Six weeks later: ADHD diagnosis.
At 39 years old, I learned that the chaos I'd been managing my entire life wasn't a character flaw. It was neurodivergence that nobody caught because I was:
Female
Quiet
"Successful"
Resourceful enough to build workarounds
Raised in an environment chaotic enough to mask the symptoms
My brother described child-me as "fast, small, and wild." My family remembered my intense curiosity, my inability to sit still, my hyperfocus on nature. All the signs were there. Hidden in plain sight.
The Grief and the Liberation
I went through stages:
Disbelief: Do I really have ADHD? Or am I losing my mind?
Anger: How did nobody catch this? What could my life have been if I'd known at 9? At 19? At 29?
Grief: Mourning all the years I felt that something was “different” about me, but never had evidence to prove it.
Liberation: Oh. OH. This is why. I'm not broken. My brain just works differently.
I devoured everything I could about ADHD — because of course I did. The more I learned, the more I saw myself. The more I realized how many women are walking around undiagnosed, feeling unseen and desperate for connection.
What I'm Building Now
For the first time in my life, I'm choosing me.
I'm building Up to Earth Life Coaching for women like me:
Late-diagnosed or suspecting ADHD/neurodivergence
Accomplished but exhausted
Successful on paper, miserable in reality
Seeking validation outside themselves because they can't accept it internally
Ready to stop performing and start living
Nature taught me everything I needed to know about healing. Ecosystems are messy, interconnected, non-linear. So is recovery. So is self-discovery. So is learning to live in a brain that works differently.
You're not broken. You're not too much. You're not failing.
You're just finally ready to come home to yourself and start pouring the energy you’ve been putting into others, into YOU.
That's where I'll meet you.