I Spent 39 Years Thinking I Was Lazy. I Was Wrong.
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I Spent 39 Years Thinking I Was Lazy. I Was Wrong.<br>A story of undiagnosed ADHD, masking, and realizing I was never lazy.
Enna Kane<br>Jun 09, 2026
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I spent years optimizing my life for a version of me that didn’t actually exist. I called it “laziness,” sprinkled in some guilt, and tried to fix it with willpower and shame. Spoiler: it didn’t work — it just made everything louder and harder.<br>A Quick Disclaimer
Let’s kick this story off with a quick disclaimer: the fact that nobody caught this in time, and that I didn’t get an early childhood diagnosis, isn’t on my parents or clueless doctors. I was born in ‘84 in Ukraine, behind the Iron Curtain. In the time and place where I grew up, awareness around ADHD and autism was literally zero — both in the medical field and the general public.<br>Being “different” or having specific quirks was downright dangerous. “Weird” kids were absolute magnets for bullies. So, anyone who could mask the hell out of their symptoms. And I did exactly that from day one of elementary school.<br>My Masking Era
Honestly, the Academy owes me an Oscar for “Best Actress” for the sheer level of my masking :) Through school, college, and university, nobody suspected a thing. I was just a little quirky, gifted, but a bit “lazy”; slightly not enough and slightly too much. But always within acceptable limits. Plus, people could always copy my homework, which made them turn a blind eye to my little eccentricities.<br>Yeah, I got good grades. But at what cost? Before I even hit college at 15, I already had sleep and eating disorders, gray hairs, and undiagnosed anxiety.<br>But looking around, I saw people who actually seemed to enjoy life, like they didn’t have the same heavy baggage I did. It was as if everyone else got secretly handed a resilient body that doesn’t burn out by 9 AM, along with a “Life Instruction Manual” for every situation. I honestly thought everyone was just heroically raw-dogging existence, and that secretly crying over the hum of fluorescent lights was a universal human experience.<br>I was desperate. I constantly felt like an alien dropped onto the wrong planet, putting in 200% effort just to pass as a normal Earthling. And I hated myself for “not trying hard enough” when nothing seemed to work. I couldn’t focus on boring subjects, I couldn’t become a “morning runner,” I couldn’t get organized or leave the house on time, and I definitely couldn’t stay emotionally stable. So, I pressed the pedal to the metal, pushing myself even harder to finally get it right. To finally stop being so broken.<br>Doomscrolling My Way to the Truth
Long story short: that’s exactly how I lived until I was 38. By then, I’d been in therapy for a few years (honestly, probably the only reason I’m still kicking). I was eating my feelings with everything greasy and sweet, or salty and crunchy; beating myself up for achieving absolutely nothing in life; temporarily escaping this planet by binge-reading fantasy novels; and completely losing my sleep, my husband, and my desire to interact with humans whatsoever.<br>Right around this time, I started doomscrolling on Instagram for hours (hello, my sweet prince — cheap dopamine). The algorithm started aggressively serving up Reels about ADHD. Some were people sharing their raw, real experiences. Others were just grifters churning out stupid videos with a serious face, wearing glasses (that, holy guacamole, didn’t even have lenses in them), claiming that literally everything is ADHD. But hey, “you’re in luck, because today only, you can buy my course on ‘How to cure ADHD by doing yoga and breathing through your uterus’ for just $9.99!”<br>But I started paying attention. The ADHD traits they talked about sounded suspiciously like my own personal “glitches.” And ADHD would perfectly explain so much of the weird, painful crap in my life. But since I didn’t relate to every single symptom 100% (gotta love that toxic perfectionism), my inner critic reared its ugly head and whined, “Stop diagnosing yourself with trendy conditions to excuse your laziness and worthlessness. Go work on yourself.”<br>I listened to that little jerk for almost a year, convinced I was just making excuses and needed to try harder.<br>The Lightbulb Moment
I’m 39 now. I’m still in therapy (and, shocker, still alive!). And I’m still doomscrolling Instagram (yes, still a hostage to my dopamine-starved brain).<br>One day, I randomly stumbled across a video of a guy talking about his weird childhood quirks that turned out to be ADHD. Sadly, I don’t remember who the creator was or what other symptoms he listed. I only remember two. But they are permanently burned into my brain.<br>The guy in the video was walking and kicking a cane-style umbrella with every step. Step-kick, step-kick. He also had to step on a very specific pattern of paving stones while walking, making sure he never stepped on the cracks.<br>I remember clapping my hand...