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Thursday, December 18, 2025

I'm Not Lazy: Discovering My ADHD at 57 and Rethinking Productivity as Gen X

 

I'm Not Lazy: Discovering My ADHD at 57 and Rethinking Productivity as Gen X

"When I was a kid I was convinced that I was lazy."

That sentence sat on my shoulders for decades. Teachers, relatives, and other adults kept repeating the same lines: "Pay attention. Focus. You're not living up to your potential." I believed them. I built my entire self-image around the idea that I was somehow failing at being a person.

I did not know I had ADHD. I did not know that what looked like laziness on the outside was actually my brain trying very hard to function in a world that was not built for it.

This is the story of how I carried that label for most of my life, how I finally got diagnosed at 57, and how that changed the way I think about productivity, work, and my own worth. If you have ever felt lazy, broken, or "not enough," especially as a Gen Xer who grew up before anyone talked about adult ADHD, this is for you.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Psdk3XS_Qk

My Childhood Belief: I Must Be Lazy

From the outside, my childhood probably looked normal. Inside, it felt like a constant tug-of-war.

I heard the same comments over and over in school:

  • "Pay attention."
  • "Focus."
  • "You are not living up to your potential."

I was daydreaming in class, losing track of what the teacher was saying, missing instructions, forgetting homework. It was not because I did not care. It was because my brain drifted away without my permission.

What made it more confusing was that I knew I was smart. I could see it when I actually managed to lock in on something I cared about. I understood things quickly. I had ideas. I was curious. I also felt like I was working harder than other kids just to get by.

Yet my efforts always felt like one step forward, two steps back. I would try, mess up, feel ashamed, then be told again that I "wasn't trying." It was like running on a treadmill and still getting called lazy.

As I got older, I watched my peers move into careers, get promotions, and build stable lives. I was living paycheck to paycheck, bouncing in and out of jobs, wondering why I could not seem to catch up. My ego whispered, "You are as smart as they are, maybe smarter." My inner critic shouted back, "If that is true, then you must be lazy."

So I accepted the story everyone else had given me: I must be lazy, just like my teachers said.

Hidden Struggles: Trauma, Therapy, and the "Normal" Mask

School was not my only struggle.

I was also dealing with the fallout from childhood abuse by a relative. It was confusing, painful, and completely unspoken. In the early 1970s, kids were not encouraged to talk about abuse, and when they did, they often were not believed. So I stayed silent.

I did not tell anyone what had happened until I was 18.

By then, the damage was deep. I had been in therapy from a young age for depression and anxiety, but without the full story out in the open. When I looked at my difficulty with school, friendships, and feeling "off," I blamed everything on the abuse. I thought my psyche was permanently damaged.

I felt:

  • Like I would always be weird and disconnected.
  • Like everyone else had some secret manual for life.
  • Like I had missed something important and could never catch up.

To survive, I built a mask. I studied how people acted and copied them. I learned how to laugh at the right times, how to agree, how to look like I was fine. Inside, I did not feel fine at all.

My life motto became, "Act as if until you are."

  1. As a child, I stayed silent and tried to disappear.
  2. As a teen and young adult, I tried to act "normal" so I would not be bullied.
  3. As an adult, I carried that mask into work, friendships, and daily life.

On the outside, I looked functional. On the inside, I felt broken.

If you relate to that kind of inner split, you are not alone. Many trauma survivors and many people with ADHD learn to mask very early. It keeps you safe in some ways, but it also hides your real self, even from you.

If you are working through old pain, books like my own Facing Your Shadows can be a gentle support for that kind of inner work. But the biggest shift for me came later, when I realized that trauma was not the only thing shaping my brain.

Adult Life at the University: Fifteen Years of "Comfortable" Struggle

Fast forward in my story.

I eventually landed a job at a university and stayed there for 15 years. That was the longest I had ever kept a job. For me, that was a kind of record. It was also the most comfortable I had ever felt at work, or at least as comfortable as I was able to feel back then.

I knew the routines. I knew what was expected. I could pretend to be "on top of things" most days. My mask was well practiced by that point.

Then menopause hit.

Menopause Changed Everything

Hormonal changes have a way of shining a spotlight on things you have been able to hide. That was true for me.

All the little quirks I had tried to hide for years moved right to the front:

  • I was more easily overwhelmed.
  • My patience for nonsense dropped.
  • My ability to fake "okay" got weaker.

At the same time, the pandemic pushed many of us to work from home. For me, working from home felt like a miracle.

I did not have to:

  • Put on makeup.
  • Get dressed in work clothes.
  • Fight traffic.
  • Sit in a noisy office.

Without all those demands, I realized something important. I was much more productive at home. There were fewer people walking by, fewer surprise conversations, fewer office distractions. I could finally focus, at least more than before.

This was especially striking because I had been asking for remote work for years and was always told no. "You have to come into the office." It felt like my needs did not matter.

As time went on, I started to care less about fitting into that "professional" mold. I became more and more intolerant of having to learn complicated computer programs that did not make sense to me. I stopped wearing makeup to work. I dressed as casually as I thought I could without getting noticed and reprimanded.

I started to feel real anger. Anger that I had spent so many years being uncomfortable, squeezing myself into a tiny box just to make other people feel at ease. Anger that my authentic self was never invited into the room.

My attitude slid into what I can only call a black fog. I was tired of pretending. I just did not know what the alternative was yet.

The Turning Point: Discovering Adult ADHD in Women

The turning point came in a very simple way: an email from a coworker.

One day, a coworker sent me a link to an article about adult ADHD in women. I opened it, expecting something mildly interesting. Instead, I felt like the floor tilted.

I did not even know women could have ADHD. I truly thought it was something that happened to little boys who were bouncing off classroom walls, and that they "grew out of it" when they got older. That was the picture I had been given as a kid.

The article explained that women often show ADHD in different ways, and that they have much lower diagnosis rates than men. The list of symptoms stopped me cold.

It mentioned things like:

  • Daydreaming a lot.
  • Talking too much.
  • Interrupting others in conversation.
  • Hair twirling and fidgeting.

I was notorious for interrupting people. I had been scolded for it my whole life. I also daydreamed, talked too much when I was nervous, and yes, I twirled my hair constantly.

Reading that article felt like looking into a mirror.

I was reading about myself.

For the first time, something clicked that had never clicked before. What if I was not lazy, scattered, or rude? What if my brain was just wired differently?

I decided not to sit on that question. I made an appointment with a neuropsychologist and went through a full assessment.

The results came back: I had pronounced ADHD. I was also on the autism spectrum.

That moment is hard to describe. My relief was huge.

I was not lazy. I was not weird. I was not lesser than.

I was neurodivergent. My brain had a different operating system, and now I finally had a name for it.

Having a diagnosis did not fix everything, but it changed the story in my head. Instead of "What is wrong with me?" the question became "How does my brain work, and what do I need?"

That shift alone is powerful.

Life After Diagnosis: Laid Off but Stronger

You might think the story smooths out from here. It does not, at least not right away.

Later that same year, I was laid off from my long-time university position. That job I had held for 15 years was suddenly gone.

It was devastating. Financially, emotionally, and practically.

The difference was that this time, I had a new frame around the experience. Before my diagnosis, I would have taken the layoff as proof that I was a failure. I would have folded it into the old story about being lazy and broken.

After my diagnosis, I saw it in a different light. I was still hurt and scared, but I did not see myself as damaged goods.

I was more sure of my abilities. I knew that when I had the right environment, like working from home, I could be productive. I knew that my struggles had explanations, not moral flaws.

I started to see myself as a work in progress, not a lost cause.

I do not feel damaged anymore.

That does not mean every day is easy. ADHD and autism do not disappear. But I have a language for what I experience, some tools to work with, and much more compassion for my younger self who did not have any of that.

If you are going through job changes or setbacks, and you also suspect you might be neurodivergent, know that your worth is not tied to your employment status. It never was.

If You Think You Might Be Neurodivergent

If any part of this story sounds a little too familiar, you might be wondering about yourself.

Maybe you:

  • Have spent your life being called lazy, scattered, or "too much."
  • Feel like you work twice as hard as other people just to stay afloat.
  • Struggle with focus, time, or task initiation.
  • Have a loud inner critic who calls you names that other people once used on you.

My encouragement is simple: if you think you may be neurodivergent, seek a diagnosis if that is available to you.

Self-realization is a process, not a single moment. Getting assessed does not fix everything, but it can give you:

  • A clear explanation for patterns you have seen your entire life.
  • Words to describe your experience to friends, family, or coworkers.
  • A chance to approach productivity in ways that actually suit your brain.
  • Permission to be kinder to yourself.

You do not have to earn that kindness by being perfect or productive. You deserve it because you are human.

I believe we all deserve to be happy and healthy. I also believe you are an interesting person, even if no one around you sees it yet. You are worthwhile, no matter what any teacher, boss, or relative has told you.

Don't be afraid to learn more about yourself. Curiosity about who you are is not selfish. It is how you build a life that fits.

If you feel comfortable, share your own story and thoughts in the comments. Hearing from others can be deeply healing for people who spent decades thinking they were the only ones.

Resources for ADHD, Productivity, and Self-Understanding

If you are looking for tools, stories, or community around ADHD and neurodivergence, here are some places to start.

Helpful YouTube Channels

Books That Can Support Your ADHD Journey

If you like personal stories and reflective writing, you might also enjoy my books, including:

Tools That Can Help with Focus

Sometimes small physical tools can make a big difference when you are trying to work or relax.

I earn a small commission if you buy through these links, which helps support my work and content. There is no extra cost to you.

Conclusion: You Are Not Lazy, You Are Worthwhile

For most of my life, I wore the word "lazy" like a name tag I never asked for. It colored every report card, every job review, every inner monologue. Getting diagnosed with ADHD and autism at 57 did not erase the past, but it rewrote the story I tell myself about who I am.

If you see yourself in any part of this, let this be your reminder: you are not lazy. You are a human being with a brain that might work differently, and that difference has value.

You deserve to understand yourself, to ask questions, and to seek support. You deserve to feel happy, healthy, and interesting, because you are. Thank you for reading, and if you feel safe doing so, share your experience in the comments. Your story might be exactly what someone else needs to hear today.

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