The quiet grief of late ADHD diagnosis

It often starts with something small. A throwaway line in a podcast, a meme on social media, a moment with your child that feels too familiar. And then it hits: What if this is me? What if this has always been me?

That realisation can bring relief, yes. Things start making sense in a way they never quite did before. But alongside the understanding, something heavier often shows up: grief. Not loud, dramatic grief - but a quiet, stubborn sadness for all the things that might’ve been different if you’d only known sooner. This is the part people don’t always talk about.

The grief no one warned you about

The grief of a missed ADHD diagnosis isn’t about losing a person. It’s about losing time. Opportunities. Trust in yourself. And because it’s so hard to explain - to others, even to yourself - it often goes unnamed.

It’s the “what if” grief.

• What if I’d had the right support in school?
• What if I hadn’t spent so long thinking I was lazy, selfish, forgetful, a bit useless?

It’s not just sadness, either. It’s anger. Anger at the teachers who wrote you off. The friends who called you flaky. The systems that weren’t built for brains like yours. And maybe, if we’re honest, a bit of anger at yourself - for not seeing it sooner, for internalising all those messages, for trying so hard and still feeling like you were falling short.

People often move through something that looks a lot like the classic stages of grief: denial, anger, sadness, bargaining, some kind of acceptance. But it’s not linear. Most of us bounce between stages for a while.

In therapy, I’ve sat with people grieving:

• The teenage years they spent punished for being "too much".
• The courses dropped because everything got overwhelming.
• The relationships that couldn’t be held together through emotional chaos.
• The years lost to burnout and shame and thinking it was all their fault.

Sometimes, the most painful thing is realising that no one - including you - ever really knew who you were underneath all the coping.

Why so many ADHD diagnoses are missed - especially in adults

ADHD still carries a lot of myths. For many, the image is still of hyperactive young boys bouncing off classroom walls. But ADHD often looks very different in adults - particularly in women and non-binary people.

Common signs of ADHD in adults can include:

• chronic overwhelm and anxiety
• people-pleasing and perfectionism
• zoning out and daydreaming
• losing things or forgetting appointments
• emotional dysregulation
• feeling constantly behind or disorganised

Diagnostic criteria were originally developed based on research in boys. As a result, many girls, women, and gender-diverse individuals were left out of the picture. Symptoms like distractibility or emotional sensitivity were often written off as hormonal, anxious, or lazy.

And if you were “doing well enough” - if you were masking or just scraping by - no one looked closer.

Getting a diagnosis is still a challenge

In the UK, it’s still hard to get a proper assessment. GPs are overwhelmed. Waiting lists stretch on for years. Private assessments cost more than most people can afford. Meanwhile, the damage keeps building - missed opportunities, burnout, depression, anxiety.

Research backs this up. A 2012 study by Thapar and colleagues found that undiagnosed ADHD increases the risk of mental health problems across the board. Not because there’s something wrong with ADHD itself, but because living in a world that doesn’t understand you takes its toll.

Therapy after diagnosis (or while you’re still waiting)

Coming to therapy after a diagnosis - or even while you’re still figuring it out - can stir up all kinds of things. There’s hope, of course. But there’s also hurt. For some, it’s the first time they’ve allowed themselves to stop blaming themselves for everything.

And there’s fear, too. People with ADHD have often had poor experiences in therapy before. They’ve been misunderstood, told to try harder, or had their struggles dismissed. They’ve masked even in therapy, afraid of being seen as difficult or disorganised.

ADHD-informed therapy makes a huge difference. It doesn’t mean letting everything slide. It just means knowing the difference between avoidance and executive dysfunction. Between resistance and nervous system shutdown. It’s about working with someone who can hold space for the mess and help make sense of it.

Sometimes, therapy is about practical support - routines, boundaries, and how to rest without guilt. And sometimes, it’s just about sitting with the sadness. Let it be there, not rushing to fix it.

Learning to be kinder to yourself

One of the hardest parts, honestly, is unlearning the self-blame. Most of us with late-diagnosed ADHD are used to pushing ourselves constantly. We’ve been told we’re not trying hard enough since childhood, and somewhere along the way, we started believing it.

Letting go of that story can be scary. If I stop pushing, who will I be? Will everything fall apart?

But self-compassion doesn’t mean giving up. It means recognising how hard you’ve worked already, how many things you’ve carried without realising it. It’s not a quick fix. It’s something you practise, moment by moment. Like choosing to forgive yourself for running late instead of spiralling into shame. Or taking a break when your brain’s fried, not because you’ve “earned it,” but because you need it.

It’s small, but it’s powerful. And it adds up.

Don’t rush past the grief

After diagnosis, there’s often a rush to find answers. The right meds. The perfect planner. The new routine. And sure, those things help. But if you skip over the grief, you miss something important.

Grief is valid. It’s not self-indulgent. It’s not a waste of time. It’s just part of processing a life that might have looked very different if you'd been seen and supported earlier.

And that grief doesn’t mean you can’t move forward. You can. But moving forward doesn’t always mean powering on. Sometimes, it means pausing, resting, and remembering. Making peace with all the versions of you who were doing their best without a map.

If this is you…

Maybe you’ve just had a diagnosis. Maybe you’re still wondering if ADHD fits. Maybe you’re somewhere in between.

Wherever you are, it’s OK to feel what you feel. It’s OK to be sad, or angry, or tired, or relieved. You are not broken. You are not behind. You deserved to be seen sooner - but you can be seen now.

Therapy can be a space for that. For being witnessed without judgement. For grieving what was lost - and for finding a way forward that actually works for you.