The penny didn’t drop that I had ADHD until the 22nd – and final – year of my career.
I was 42, in 2023. And once that knowledge landed, realisations and juicy epiphanies came crashing into my reality, dropping like baselines.
Mysteries made sense.
I MADE SENSE.
Some of these awakenings were affirming AF.
And some were deeply upsetting.
I’m not one to dwell on the past, but suddenly there was a new chapter of life called WHAT IF. Which is a special kind of torture. Thankfully, my coaching brain stepped in and I’ve been able to keep offering myself compassion during this bizarre reckoning.
Rewind to school
I had no idea I was neurodivergent at school. I very much fit the stereotype of a boy with ADHD – never sat still, class clown, daydreaming or secretly eating when the teacher wasn’t looking.
“If only Jessica would focus more” featured in my school reports every year.
Girls and ADHD simply was not a thing in the 90s.
Fast forward to the corporate world
When I entered the corporate world – thankfully the creative end of it – the fear kicked in. I would not have lasted ten seconds in a so-called grown-up sector like finance or insurance.
Comparison paralysed me. Honestly, it’s a miracle I survived 22 years of it.
At 22, I was cutting movie trailers. Ironically, I didn’t even watch films. I blagged the job (obviously) and the imposter syndrome was LOUD. I had no idea what I was doing, so I did what so many of us do – I put on a tight-fitting mask.
I learned to digest shame like a slow-burning carbohydrate. There was always more on offer.
Shame that others were better than me.
Shame that my ideas were sh*t.
Shame that other people earned more, did more, did being human better than me.
Being bullied by my first London boss didn’t help either.
This isn’t a woe-is-me story though. In fact, when I speak publicly, that monster boss gets a big thank you. His relentless bullying became a key ingredient in my empowerment story.
The final chapter of corporate life
I still didn’t know I had ADHD when I was promoted to Head of Department near the end of my corporate career. I suspected dyslexia and dyscalculia (the irony of trying to spell those words never escapes me), especially during budgeting and forecasting meetings.
The mask was ON TIGHT.
I was brilliant at many parts of my job. But numbers? I’d have had a better chance landing a lead role in a Hollywood blockbuster than making a spreadsheet add up.
2020 – the accidental clue
I didn’t know I had ADHD when I started my own business as a side hustle in 2020. And hilariously, I didn’t realise while creating Debitch Your Brain® that I was building a kick-ass tool for neurodivergent brains – or anyone with a busy, creative mind.
(For context: Debitch Your Brain® is about transforming your relationship with the inner voices that run your life – the ego, the inner critics, the Cast of Bitches – so you stop living how you think you SHOULD and start living how you actually want.)
The moment everything clicked
The penny finally dropped while I was walking in Brighton listening to a Mel Robbins podcast about her late ADHD diagnosis.
I stopped dead in my tracks and had a full Dolly Zoom moment. You know that Jaws shot where Brody spots the shark and reality warps around him? That. Minus the shark.
After a few seconds, I laughed. Full belly laugh. Tears streaming. Passers-by probably thought, “Another Brighton weirdo.”
I realised what I’d created with Debitch Your Brain® was the exact tool I needed during my years of pretending.
Thanks Mel Robbins. Huge mentor in my life. She doesn’t know it. Yet.
Diagnosis and shame
So then what? I went down the diagnosis route. Not because I doubted myself, but because one of the bitches piped up loudly:
“Your friends will think you’re being dramatic.”
After a lifetime of being labelled dramatic, I believed I needed a psychiatrist’s permission slip to tell the truth.
And look – I am dramatic. I feel emotions at level 11. But I didn’t know this was neurological. Sensory processing. Nervous system intensity. I thought I was well, you know, A LOT.
There was a reason I’d dramatically exited bars and clubs in my 20s because the music was too much.
I wasn’t TOO MUCH.
I was experiencing the world intensely.
The shame could finally go.
Shame, ADHD and not belonging
Here’s the thing about ADHD and shame – it hits harder. We overthink everything, spiral, then freeze. And we don’t realise it’s shame doing the driving. It just feels real. Normal. Inevitable.
If you’re reading this and thinking, “I don’t belong either” – you’re not alone. So many women carry this belief and unknowingly build lives that confirm it.
Once I saw how my not-belonging story was running the show, I could finally change it. And release a whole load of teen-era shame too (that’s another story).
The end of one story, the start of another
I received my formal combined ADHD diagnosis just before Christmas 2024.
When the psychiatrist said, “I’m sorry to tell you that you have ADHD,” I thought – sorry? You’ve just handed me radical self-acceptance.
I love myself hard now.
I’m proud of everything I survived and alchemised.
And the best part? I get to help other women learn to not believe every thought they think. The feedback from my clients is heart-wrenching, hilarious, and deeply affirming.
What’s next?
What’s next for this late-diagnosed woman with ADHD?
I’m taking Deb!tching to the stage.
B!tch On The Mic hits Brighton Fringe in May 2026. Expect laughter, truth bombs, and the kind of catharsis you didn’t know you needed.
Come. I promise you’ll think – and piss yourself laughing.
So I have one question for you – what would be possible for you, when you debitch your brain?
