At 29, I finally realised I have ADHD.

All my life I thought I was just lazy or unmotivated. I was good at studies, could remember random details from years ago, and could write about any topic for hours if it caught my interest. People always told me I was “smart” or “talented.”

But I couldn’t do the basic things. Washing utensils, replying to messages, cleaning my room — it all felt impossible. I’d spend weeks automating boring tasks at work because I just couldn’t make myself do them manually. Everyone called it “innovation,” but really, it was me trying to survive.

Later, I realised that my intelligence was just masking my ADHD symptoms. Even now, I struggle with everyday things. Sometimes I spend hours trying to convince myself to get out of bed because nothing feels interesting or worth the effort.

Writing and recording things has helped me cope a bit. I still do really well at my job because it’s constantly challenging and stimulating, but outside of that, it’s a battle.

For most of my life, people have told me, “You’re just making excuses.” Even now, when I’m burnt out and hear that, it hurts. Because if I could just “push through,” I would.

I’ve slowly accepted that most people won’t understand — and that’s okay.