For a long time, I kept my diagnosis to myself.
Not because I was ashamed—far from it. But because I wasn’t sure how it would be received. Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is still widely misunderstood, particularly in leadership roles, and I’ve spent my career working hard to prove myself as capable, focused, and reliable.
And yet, one of the most revealing moments of my professional life came when reading a performance review that echoed the school reports of my childhood:
“Lacks consistency.”
“Doesn’t listen.”
“Lack of follow-through.”
These weren’t just observations. They were judgements, and they cut deep.
Not because they were entirely baseless, but because they only told one side of the story.
Honestly, I AM listening
The assumption that I don’t listen is particularly painful. In reality, I often listen more carefully and more intuitively than most people I know. I pick up emotional cues, subtle shifts in tone, unspoken tensions. But I listen in a way that doesn’t always conform to conventional norms. I may not appear still or maintain eye contact. I may interrupt—often because I’m so engaged I don’t want the thought to slip. None of this means I’m not listening. In fact, my brain is working overtime to keep track, stay focused, and connect ideas in real time.
The same goes for consistency. ADHD means I can hyperfocus for hours and produce work of the highest quality and yet struggle with basic daily routines that others manage without effort. It’s not a lack of care. It’s the reality of a brain wired for novelty, urgency, and meaning, and not repetition or short-term reward.
And follow-through? I carry ideas and intentions profoundly. I care. I plan. But ADHD is often a war between vision and execution. Unless I have the right systems and supports, even the most important tasks can become overwhelming.
What hurt wasn’t just the feedback, it was the sense that my effort was invisible. That the energy it takes to keep up, to mask, to perform—to just “function” in a world not built for your brain—goes unnoticed.
That’s when I knew: if I didn’t tell the full story, no one else would.
Invisible challenges
I’ve spent over 25 years in education, and 15 years in school leadership across UK State Schools and two of the top international schools in Europe. That experience has taught me to spot potential, unlock talent, and build strong, values-led teams.
Behind the achievements was a different reality. Because ADHD isn’t just about distraction or creativity. It comes with real challenges, often invisible to others.
Rates of divorce, financial instability, burnout, and mental health difficulties are significantly higher in adults with ADHD. I’ve lived my fair share of that: relationship struggles , impulsive decisions, moments of overwhelming exhaustion masked by high performance.
ADHD clarified my challenges, yes, but it also illuminated my strengths: intuitive insight, rapid pattern recognition, hyperfocus, creative problem-solving, and emotional depth. These aren’t just side benefits. They are the very traits that have shaped me as a leader.
The conversations I now have, with teachers, parents, school leaders, CEOs of MATs and ADHD charities, and medical professionals, make one thing clear: I am not alone.
It’s estimated that 5–7% of the population has ADHD. That’s at least one or two children in every classroom—and many more adults working in those schools. Yet less than 25% of UK teachers receive any formal training in ADHD during their initial teacher education.
ADHD clarified my challenges, yes, but it also illuminated my strengths: intuitive insight, rapid pattern recognition, hyperfocus, creative problem-solving, and emotional depth
We need to equip all educators, leaders, and HR teams with the understanding to support both learners and colleagues. Not as an add-on, but as essential to inclusion.
Advocacy must move beyond echo chambers. Real change happens when we shift the middle—those who are open to understanding, if we meet them with clarity and respect.
Research shows that values-based framing, empathy, and consistency are more effective at changing opinion than confrontation or outrage. And in policy terms, change scales when professionals feel trusted and involved.
Finland’s education reforms show us what’s possible: a collaborative, equity-driven model built on teacher autonomy and collective purpose—not punitive measures. That approach transformed a struggling system into one of the most respected in the world.
We need the same mindset in ADHD advocacy. That means strategic, inclusive conversations that connect ADHD to what matters most: wellbeing, attendance, attainment, staff retention, and inclusion.
A fragile balance
I’ve done my best to navigate this. I’ve shared what I felt able to, when it felt safe to do so. And while I’ve been met with some encouraging signs, it’s still early days.
There are moments when honesty feels possible, where being myself doesn’t seem to come at the cost of being seen as professional. But that balance can be fragile. It’s not always easy to tell whether lived experience is being genuinely understood or simply tolerated.
That’s why I continue to share what I do.
If any of this resonates, whether you’re a teacher, leader, policymaker, parent, or medical professional, I’m always happy to offer support, clarity, or guidance grounded in both lived experience and decades of professional insight.
We’re not just advocating for understanding. We’re helping shape the future of inclusive education…together.
