What is it like to have ADHD?

Sashika Kamaladasa
Nov 6 · 5 min read

This is part one of a three part series on ‘Invisible disabilities and politics’, based on my experiences as an adult with ADHD in Colombo, Sri Lanka. Click here to go back to the series overview.

What is ADHD?

Attention-deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) is “a behavioural condition that makes focusing on everyday requests and routines challenging,” (APA). ADHD symptoms are of two kinds — inattention and hyperactivity — manifesting either in combination (ADHD-C) or separately (ADHD-PI and ADHD-PH). Inattention is marked by disorganization, distractibility or inability to maintain focus and forgetfulness while hyperactivity is marked by compulsions to fidget, move and play (when it’s expected to remain still or seated), continuous and impulsive speech, and difficulty remaining quiet while performing tasks.

ADHD is a misnomer: people with ADHD don’t have shorter attention spans, rather their attention regulation is impaired, which means their attention is highly inconsistent. This could be attributed to an inability to follow rules, instructions or procedures when the consequence is distant and fuzzy. In other words, people with ADHD could be well aware of what needs to be done, but they just can’t get themselves to do it. In order to be diagnosed according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5), these symptoms have to be present from childhood, cannot be situational and cannot be explained by other physical or psychological conditions. This is to rule out cases of hyperactivity and dysregulation of attention, which could be explained by other different and unrelated conditions.

ADHD is referred to as an invisible disability — not because it gives you supernatural powers (I wish) but — for being primarily neurological in nature. Most other mental illnesses, chronic pain, fatigue and difficulties with sleep too are not readily observable (i.e. they do not present discernible anatomical features) — hence, invisible.

What labels mean

I was diagnosed with the inattentive sub-type a couple of months ago — at the age of 27. Receiving the diagnosis brought mixed emotions in me. On one hand, there is a label to identify challenges I faced growing up and along with it possible solutions. On the other hand, there is a label to remind myself that I am indeed “broken”. Labels can be useful when communicating one’s experiences, needs and preferences — they can also be limiting and condescending whenever it’s used to reduce humans to a list of defects. For instance, ADHD being identified gives me access to psychiatric medication, which helps with focus and concentration, by addressing the neurochemical basis of the disorder. It could also raises a warning sign — “he is incapable/unstable”. There have been some days when close family members have asked “did you forget your medicine?” for the slightest change in pace.

Capacities of and challenges faced by those with ADHD, will not be the same across the board: firstly, ADHD is an umbrella term (which means there are multiple ways ADHD can manifest); secondly, our lives are shaped by much more than our illnesses (for the better or worse). So, reducing a person’s psychology to a mental health diagnosis is as absurd as reducing one’s biology to their cold.

Early childhood

I know reading life stories can be boring, especially if it doesn’t follow the conventional trope of a hero’s journey; so, feel free to skip this part.

Growing up with inattention and bouts of impulsivity was no fun. For parents and teachers, I was the messy and disorganized child. The number of times I left stationery supplies, lunch boxes and water bottles in the van or the classroom are countless. Once in grade four, after leaving behind two umbrellas in a mere month, I was forced to wear a polythene bag to cover my head from the rain.

My report card was very confused — it would fluctuate between average to poor grades throughout secondary school. I picked up some subjects without much difficulty — but those that required attention to detail, I made countless careless errors. Surprisingly, I was able to pass my GCE O/L’s and A/L’s then, all while undiagnosed and untreated. What I couldn’t catch up due to a dysregulation of memory and attention processes, I relied on intrinsic motivation and constant external stimulation. For instance, where my memory failed, I would use vivid imaginative narratives to study subjects like biology, and educational YouTube channels helped especially to power through when I felt bored.

I would have started a gazillion hobbies, sports and projects, most of which I gave up in a couple of months. Sometimes these were combined with costly equipment and gear, which my impulsive brain was quick to latch on to. A few of these projects I enjoyed, and fewer more, even managed to continue despite the ADHD in me saying meh. Up until now, albeit inconsistent, I have not given up on my passion for music and art.

Young adulthood

Adolescence is a stage in one’s life when culturally one is expected to prepare for adulthood — be ambitious but also realistic about one’s future. I was impatient to get on with it. Right after the first attempt at GCE A/L’s, I enrolled in a private university in Colombo to study psychology. The decision was motivated by my wanting to figure out what on earth life is and reading about the prospects of psychology being a pretty versatile field, for those forever undecided like myself.

As I moved from one semester to a next, I was mad at myself for not outgrowing the distractability and disorganization. Then one day I came across this explanation about ADHD. All I remember was that it was a really odd revelation — most of the regular unpleasant experiences I’ve been having fell in line with the symptom descriptions like pieces in a puzzle. I was shocked how a long list of my thoughts and behaviors were explained so well with one label — it was almost as if I had gone to a fortune teller.

Some lecturers of psychology were very skeptical of psychiatry and purely bio-medical explanations for mental illnesses (the politics between the professions of psychology and psychiatry could be another article in itself). It was around the same time that I started tuning into woke, semi-woke and broke (i.e. reactionary) commentaries about capitalism and industrial society. Self-diagnosis, at this point I thought, is something the baddies do. So, instead of being upfront about my suspicion, I consulted a psychiatrist and listed down my concerns. First, the doctor diagnosed me with depression and in a later session, I tried being upfront and mentioned ADHD. He was cautious yet trusted my judgment and prescribed Ritalin (a standard stimulant prescribed for ADHD). The pill didn’t have any effect on me. It was disappointing — have I been lying to myself, my family and this doctor? I did not know what to expect from the medicine or the doctor’s approach to finding the right medicine. And I wasn’t sure how the doctor would take it if I told him how it felt and if I had asked him to explain his approach. The process was too overwhelming and I just gave up.

All this made me question whether I had ADHD after all, or whether I was just confused or misled or just trying to find a scapegoat for my lack of virtue.


In the next article, let’s consider the different explanations for ADHD and what it means for an invisible disability like ADHD to be considered a socio-political construct — through the lens of history.

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