A Magical Diagnosis

Once upon a time, in a land not-so-far away (my living room), I sat on the sofa surrounded by food wrappers and crumbs, an open planner I forgot to write in, and three unfinished to-do lists — when it hit me: My friend might be right. This might be more than just “being a bit forgetful.”

Cue the dramatic Disney music.

It wasn’t a bird, it wasn’t a plane — it was ADHD, possibly, maybe, probably… and I was finally ready to face the enchanted forest of adult diagnosis.

🏰 Step 1: Realising This Isn’t Just a Quirky Side Quest

Sure, I’ve always been “a bit scattered.” Always late. Always overwhelmed. Always talkative. Always distracted. Always full of creative ideas at 2 a.m. (and forgetting half of them by morning). But when motherhood hit — and I suddenly had to manage my brain and a small human’s life — the mental load turned into a full-on Maleficent-style firestorm.

That’s when my friend suggested it might be more. So, I started researching ADHD in adults. The checklists? Too real. The memes? Painfully accurate. The mental health forums? Full of people who sounded exactly like me.

🧞 Step 2: Wishing Upon a GP Appointment

So I took a deep breath (and three calendar reminders), and finally booked a GP appointment. Honestly? That felt scarier than facing Ursula with no voice. I wasn’t sure what to say, how to explain what I’d been experiencing, or whether I’d be taken seriously.

Spoiler alert: You don’t need to have all the answers. Just your story.

I shared my challenges — growing up as the talkative one. The one who needs to focus more. The one who was easily distracted. And into adulthood; the forgetfulness, the executive dysfunction, the hyperfocus, the 50 tabs open in my brain at all times. I mentioned how parenting magnified it all, and how my partner and I (both probably ADHD, because of course we are) were navigating the chaos like Aladdin and Abu on a magic carpet with a dodgy SatNav.

🧚‍♀️ Step 3: The Waiting Game (aka, Tangled in Red Tape)

Getting an ADHD assessment isn’t as simple as “Bibbidi Bobbidi Boom — diagnosed!” There’s often a referral process, long waitlists (NHS friends, I see you), or the option of going private. Waiting can be frustrating — especially when your brain thrives on now and not nine to twelve months from now. Combining that with having to reassess after my original GP ‘forgot’ to send off my assessment papers.

But hang in there. You’re not imagining it. Your experiences are valid. And your mental health deserves a happy ending.

🍎 Step 4: Living in the In-Between

While I waited for everything and ADHD assessment entails, I did what any Disney-loving ADHD-er would do: I started 17 projects, forgot what I was doing mid-sentence, hyperfocused on reading every ADHD blog ever written, and cried when I saw a meme that perfectly described my brain.

The in-between can be tough — like being stuck in the Tower without knowing if you’re Rapunzel or just a very tired mum with sensory overload.

But it’s also where growth happens. Where self-awareness starts. Where compassion builds.

💫 Step 5: Finding Magic in the Mess

Whether you’re just starting your ADHD diagnosis journey or deep into the enchanted forest of referrals and paperwork, know this: you’re not broken. You’re wired differently — and there’s real power in understanding your brain.

You’re not lazy. Not flaky. Not a villain in your own story.

You’re magic.

And you deserve support, strategies, and people who get it — whether they’re fellow neurodivergents or just friends who bring snacks and never judge the state of your kitchen table.

Final Thoughts (Before I get distracted again – it’s happened 3 times writing this):

If you’re thinking about starting the ADHD diagnosis process, take the first step — no matter how small. Book the appointment. Write down your thoughts. Ask for support.

It’s not selfish. It’s not silly. It’s brave. And it’s the beginning of a journey toward understanding, self-kindness, and a life where your unique brain isn’t something to “fix,” but something to embrace.

Because even in a world of neurotypical glass slippers, your quirky, wonderful, wildly wired mind deserves to dance at the ball too.

Ready to begin your own quest? I see you, fellow adventurer. You’ve got this. And if you forget where you put your keys mid-journey? Same.

Xx