For the first 53 years of my life, I did not know I had ADHD.

I’ve had my struggles with mental health since an early age, but, being born in the mid-60s I was one of many kids who never got checked out. Nobody out in the real world knew about autism, nobody knew about ADHD, nobody (let’s be honest) gave two fucks about the mental health issues of us Gen-X kids. I was just odd, a trouble-maker, destined to amount to nothing, saddled with authority issues, impulsive, rude and a bit of a day-dreamer. Your original underachiever. How terribly original of me.

It never occurred to me to question why I was the way I was, until much later in life because, in all seriousness, I just thought I was a bit of an arsehole. Worse still I had come to terms with my arseholeness and just accepted it because I figured nothing was ever likely to change. Turned out that low self-esteem is another classic trait of the adult ADHD sufferer. And when I did get officially diagnosed with ADHD and prescribed with medication to help me cope better with its shitty symptoms, my life changed.