I didn’t get my ADHD diagnosis until adulthood. But I always knew, deep down, that my brain worked a little differently. Not wrong, just harder, louder, and more intensely.
I thought everyone found bright lights overwhelming, or background noise impossible to tune out. I thought everyone had to read the same paragraph five times and still forget what it said. I assumed that everyone overthought even the smallest comment or glance, and that everyone felt pain and anxiety when spoken to in a disrespectful manner.
It turns out that not everyone experiences the world so intensely. Not everyone constantly misplaces items or struggles to remember where they put them. Not everyone can feel unaffected by caffeine and can drink a cup of coffee, like it’s herbal tea, before bed. Not everyone zones out when people are talking to them, speaks over top of them, or forgets what was said the moment it was spoken. Not everyone rehearses conversations in advance because they fear saying the wrong thing and falling apart when they do.
That’s sensory overload. That’s Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD).
It’s more than just getting distracted or being too sensitive. It’s the relentless flood of information and emotion, with our nervous systems struggling to hold it all. A negative news article can ruin our whole morning. A throwaway comment can echo for days. Even joy and love can feel too big, too fast, and too much.
For years, I assumed it was a flaw in me; that I was too forgetful, too dramatic, and too prone to depression and anxiety; that I just needed to try harder, push through, and be better.
But the more I learn, the more I realise this is common, especially among women. The model of ADHD we grew up with was built for boys in classrooms, not for girls who struggle inwardly and hold it together until breaking point. As a result, we often go unnoticed, misdiagnosed, or made to feel like a burden.
As Gabor Maté writes in Scattered Minds:
“The child’s brain and body are not defective. What is defective are the expectations of a society that believes the demands it places on young people are reasonable.”
I wasn’t broken. I was absorbing too much, too fast, with no name for it. So if you’ve ever felt like the world was just too loud, or like your brain takes the long way round, or like you cry too easily and recover too slowly, I want you to know you’re not alone. You are not weak. You are not failing.
You’re simply living with a nervous system that’s been trying to shout your name in a room that never quite knew how to listen. And there’s something powerful in finally hearing yourself.
Shanlivvy 