Happy Birthday to my ADHD: What my late diagnosis means as a Black woman

Words by Tola Coker.

"Tola is a capable student and, with more concentration, could achieve well in ICT."

– My year seven ICT teacher.

Now, I wasn't the worst student, but I guess I wasn't the best. While my teachers often called me 'a distraction', I'd say I was more of a part-time annoyance, and very good at it. But for some reason, no one seemed to suspect something more was going on – parents and teachers alike.

Like many, during the early days of the pandemic, I joined TikTok. This was simultaneously one of the worst but best decisions I have made in life. In just a few weeks, I had gone from astrology TikTok to mental health TikTok and then ADHD TikTok. At first, I was amused by some of the content I came across; "haha, I do that too", I thought, and kept scrolling. Still, soon enough, the content became a bit too niche and a bit too specific to just be funny quirks. And besides, how could I have ADHD when I'm a Virgo and Virgos are tidy and organised? (Yes, this was a real rationalisation that I used for months, please don't throw tomatoes at me).

A former college classmate had shared an 'ADHD-what people think it is vs what it really is' on their Instagram story. Scrutinising the post, I asked myself whether I should be concerned that I could relate to all the things it had pointed out. I answered no and took a nap. One thing about me is that I will simply pretend that something doesn't exist – and that's what I did for months. Anytime I saw anything ADHD-related on TikTok, I pressed 'not interested', the same applied to IG, and I had muted the word on Twitter.

Sometimes it's best to be in the land of denial and delusion – this is actually NOT one of those, but I did it anyway. I even refuse to read an article by one of my favourite journalists sharing her own experiences with a late diagnosis as a Black woman – sorry, Chanté, not my finest moment.

During this era of denial, my main thoughts were in the realm of “well, what if I'm just being dramatic or overreacting?”. Or, “you're just faking it to seem edgy and different, as if having blonde brows wasn't edgy enough. Besides, who would believe me if I didn't believe myself?”

The days turned into weeks passing by so slowly yet so quickly. All I could find myself doing was analysing every behaviour, every action. From not being able to stay in the kitchen while cooking or having to swing my legs while brushing my teeth. Things that I've always done started to feel different. It became exhausting, but it was all I did, and honestly, I don't think I've stopped.

At some point, I went looking for my school reports – shoutout to my dad for keeping them all these years – and I found them. I found them, and I started crying. Year in, year out, my teachers would say the same thing. "Toluwase could benefit from staying focused", "Tola has a lot of potential but should stop chatting and distracting others". I think I've come to dislike the word 'potential' so much because it made me feel like I was disappointing people.

When there's already a bias against black female students, the conclusion to my behaviour wasn't that there may be an alternate root cause, but only that I am expected to be loud and disruptive.

There was a running joke in secondary school that I didn't know how to whisper (I still don't). I always chalked it down to being a 'typical loud Nigerian'. #JustNigerianGirlyThings. Or being overly emotional, which I now know is Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria, after always being labelled a cry-baby.

When it comes to diagnosing ADHD in women? Good luck. But throw being Black into the mix? Thoughts and prayers, bestie.

And if I'm being honest, I found it hard to accept that I would technically be classified as disabled. It was and still is a tough pill to swallow, and I didn't want that. While I knew there was a reason why finishing assignments and articles was so tumultuous, I didn't want to accept it and instead labelled myself as 'lazy.'

A small part of me wanted to be wrong about the possibility of me having ADHD. But, in contrast, I so desperately wanted to be right.

During this time, I was introduced to ADHD Babes – a support group for Black women and non-binary people with ADHD and no official diagnosis was needed. I could share my experiences in this group without feeling ashamed or embarrassed. If you know me, then you know how much I like to say that 'shame is free', but that doesn't apply in this case. While it didn't magically erase the insecurities I had, it was a space that helped me validate and explore my feelings.

After waiting several months and some change, my assessment day came, and I had never wanted to throw up so badly. I would liken it to the stress levels I experienced while doing my GCSEs. Putting all my notes together felt like exam prep. I was never good at exams or revising but I guess that makes sense now. An hour later and it was official. I, Tola Folarin-Coker, was confirmed to have Combined-type ADHD.

I couldn't exactly describe the feeling, some parts relief and some parts sadness. It was weird. I remember texting my friend after and tweeting about it like a joke, but it was just a way to make it easier to digest.

There was some sort of comfort in knowing that the reason you left your college sketchbook on the train platform wasn't that you were irresponsible; you just lack object permanence.

The following months were the hardest. I had just started my master’s and was balancing work simultaneously; everything just became more difficult than I was used to. Because although I was able to get adjustments and uni, I felt bad for using that. I thought that I didn't deserve them. Breaking down in tears because I still expected myself to be able to function like a neurotypical person. Why was it easier for everyone else to get started on their assignments, yet I was incapable of putting together a single paragraph?

I thought, "how could I sell my soul to do an MA when I barely survived my undergrad?" Even college had the potential to turn me into a comic book villain. Yet, for some reason, I thought this time would be different, but I was most definitely wrong.

While I was grateful I had started medication, I felt I shouldn't need them as I had gotten this far without them. I still feel like a fraud, some days more than others.

The days where, by some miracle, I can write and send an email without getting distracted, make me feel like I was making it up. But then there are other days, where I get so overwhelmed by the to-do list with added interest that I freeze and stay in bed the whole day.

It'll soon be a year since my diagnosis, but I'm still working on the acceptance part of it. I still feel shame when talking about my medication, when I struggle to get things done, or needing to ask for extensions on uni assignments. But I think I have a slightly better grasp on things.

I'm not bitter anymore about a late diagnosis, but I'd like to blow a raspberry at my former school teachers. I also wonder how things would have turned out if I had found out sooner. Still, it's frustrating knowing that a huge part of why I got diagnosed so late is because ADHD is seen as something Black women just 'don't have'.

Oh well, happy one-year diagnosis anniversary to me.