We feel it’s ‘late’ if we’re anything over, say, 18. I know people in their 80s only just cottoning on to their ADHD-ness, and others lamenting that they only stumbled across it at 24. What we have in common is the feeling that we should have known earlier. We were missed; a lost generation.
1. The “Right to Choose” Envy
Did you know that down South, people can use “Right to Choose” to be seen by the nearest services in months, rather than years, for a diagnosis? Here in Scotland, many doors to diagnosis are getting closed. NHS psychiatric services are swamped, short of the requisite qualified staff. Some of us have been tempted to “borrow” an auntie’s address in Berwick-upon-Tweed just to get a referral. Who could blame us?
2. The 13-Year Existential Crisis
In health boards like East Lothian or Tayside, some face a 10-year wait. We hear some Edinburgh folk are being told 14 years. In many areas, waiting lists have closed unless you’re in a psychiatric crisis. I’ll qualify for my state pension before I get that appointment (not even joking, pal).
3. The “Dinnae Mak a Fuss” Context
We grew up in a country where you’re traditionally meant to just get on with it. “Dinnae mak a fuss” was the mantra. Were we fidgety because of the sleet and the itchy woollen jumpers, or was it something else? And few of us would risk the threat of the tawse (a brutal leather belt used for classroom punishment until the 1980s) – so we suppressed our symptoms mighty hard. Emotions remain risky to display – especially for boys and men – and girls stayed under the radar.
4. The Private Assessment Dilemma
With NHS lists frozen, many folk feel forced to go private, leaving them a few thousand pounds short for food and bills. Then comes the “Shared Care” hurdle: will your GP accept a private diagnosis for medication? Many surgeries in Scotland will not, perhaps sceptical of dodgy diagnoses or wary of rising prescription costs. It leaves us feeling like criminals for even asking, and desperate to figure out where we go from here.
5. The Shock of the Rear-View Mirror
Once you realise it’s ADHD, your entire life story – from scary, chilly play-park experiences to every minging job and messed-up relationship – gets a new set of subtitles. There’s a grief about who we might have been if we’d realised it wasn’t our fault. As they say, it turns out you were a Ferrari with bicycle brakes.
6. Masking it Down the Pub
Scottish social life involves a lot of brutal banter, especially from our dearest friends. We’ve spent years either toning ourselves down to fit in, or being told we were “too much.” Even mentioning ADHD can open you to a shower of denials, clichés (“Aren’t we all a little..”, “Why d’you want a label?”, “It’s so over-diagnosed,” “Never had it in my day,” “It’s just an excuse..” etc) and general piss-taking.
7. The DIY Support Network
As the clinical pathways close, we’ve turned to building our own community. The Scottish ADHD Coalition has a map of peer groups, and Procrastination Station runs group courses year-round. Your people are waiting for you, ready for a coffee, a drink, or a walk, with plenty of laughs. The evaluations show this helps hugely, whether or not you’ve achieved the Holy Grail of diagnosis and meds.
We all need that community. Take the step; we’re ready to join you in the struggle. One day, we’re going to make Scotland a brilliant place to be an ADHDer. I suspect a lot of the folk who built the best things about this country were part of our tribe.
Carol Stobie,
Co-Director, Procrastination Station CIC
