On My Experience of ADHD - An honest reflection

By: Yasmin Bou Karim, Founder of Bossa Health

Neurodiversity Week feels like the appropriate time to share more of my experience with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). I often speak about my experience with Borderline Personality Disorder, but less about ADHD, even though both have been part of my life for as long as I can remember.

Funnily enough, people who understand ADHD, beyond the stereotypes, have often told me that it is immediately obvious when they meet me. I am a chaotic person. I have a lot of energy and I am often impulsive. It is not that hard to spot. And I really like that. These are some of the best parts of my personality, in my opinion.

At the same time, being chaotic, constantly running late, and jumping between things without ever finishing them can create a lot of stress. It can also strain relationships if people do not fully understand the context behind it. So, as an adult who is now very aware of how ADHD impacts my life, I am trying to improve how I live with it. I want to make choices that reduce stress, build systems that support me, and recognise that even the parts of myself that shape my personality can still benefit from structure.

The reason I have not spoken about ADHD as much is layered. Borderline Personality Disorder still feels underrepresented in everyday conversation, so I have naturally gravitated towards that. The impact it has had on my life has also been greater, so it is something I have felt more compelled to talk about. In many ways, speaking about it has helped me process and accept my past experiences.

At the same time, there are many misconceptions about ADHD, and engaging in those conversations can feel exhausting. In my experience, people often feel entitled to speak on it without truly understanding it, because it is seen as a more mainstream topic. In reality, the mainstream conversation is often superficial and dismissive. Phrases like "everyone has ADHD" come up far too often. These conversations require a lot of unpicking and explaining, and at times it has felt easier to stay quiet. But ADHD has been present in my life for a long time.

From a young age, I knew I was different from my siblings and the other children around me. I could see it in how I behaved, how I processed things, and how I responded. There were patterns that did not quite align with those around me.

In school, I had a classmate with dyslexia and ADHD, and we were often paired together so I could support him. In many ways, that experience helped me recognise parts of myself that were linked to ADHD. But I did not have the understanding or maturity to ask for help. Instead, I compared myself to him and convinced myself that my struggles were not "as bad as his". In hindsight, what a terrible way of looking at things!

So, rather than addressing what was going on, I learned to adapt. I developed coping mechanisms. But if I am honest, they were not always about improving things. They were more about accepting them. Acceptance is important. It is often the first step. But on its own, it is not enough. 

Things changed when I began preparing for medical school (those plans eventually changed). Applying for extra time in my admission exams meant I had to formally prove that I had ADHD, which led me to seek a diagnosis in my early twenties. The assessment process was intense. Multiple sessions, hours of testing, screen based tasks, and detailed evaluations. It was overwhelming. I can now laugh at the fact that my report noted how much I complained about the length of the process, but at the time it was exhausting.

When I received the diagnosis, it felt like a relief. It confirmed that I had not imagined any of it. I was offered medication and took it for a few months, but then chose to stop. I am not against medication, but at that point in my life I had convinced myself that I had managed this far without it. Looking back, that mindset was not healthy at all; it came from minimising my own needs simply because it was easier than addressing these ongoing challenges.

When I later moved to the UK and returned to study, I started to realise that I did need more support. I did not have the tools to properly manage my ADHD. But accessing care in the UK brought its own challenges. I waited nine months to see a psychiatrist, only to be told within the first five minutes that I did not need an assessment because it was obvious I had ADHD. That was disappointing. I was not only looking for a diagnosis, but also for guidance and support. That was not what I received.

I was prescribed medication, but shortly after, my Borderline Personality Disorder symptoms worsened. I was advised to stop and return once I was stabilised on my other treatment. Trying to access support again became a long and frustrating process. I waited another year, chasing regularly, only to find out that my local commissioning group did not have the funding to cover my consultation. A full year passed without any clear communication.

At that point, I went back to telling myself it was fine. However, more recently, something shifted. Through professional meetings and events, I realised that I was still struggling internally in ways I had been overlooking. So, over the past several months, I have started to approach my ADHD with the same level of intention and care that I have given to my Borderline Personality Disorder. Not just accepting it, but actively working to understand it and support myself better. 

This is still a work in progress. I am learning what actually supports me and unlearning what I have relied on just to get by. That includes being more honest about where I struggle and more intentional about how I respond to it. I will share more about the practical side of this over time, but for now, this felt like an important place to start.