Living and Understanding ADHD: A Journey Through the Maze—From Both Sides

Cary M Hamilton
Oct 16
12 min read

October is here, and with it comes ADHD Awareness Month. As someone who sits in a unique intersection—a licensed mental health counselor and child mental health specialist, registered play therapy supervisor, clinic owner, AND a mom to neurodivergent kids with ADHD and SPD married to a neurodivergent partner—I can tell you that ADHD awareness isn't just professional knowledge for me. It's a lived experience.

Here's the twist: I'm neurotypical.

For years, I thought I truly understood ADHD and SPD. I had the training, the certifications, the clinical hours. I helped countless families navigate diagnoses and treatment plans. I felt confident in my expertise. Then I became a mother to neurodivergent children and married someone whose brain works beautifully differently than mine.

Suddenly, all that professional knowledge? It was like having a detailed map of a country I'd never actually visited. Living with ADHD and SPD—experiencing it day in and day out with the people I love most—taught me what no textbook or training ever could.

This article is born from both my clinical expertise and the humbling, beautiful chaos of raising and loving people whose brains work differently from mine. I'm here to guide you through understanding ADHD, not from an ivory tower, but from the trenches—and to help you find the support your family needs.

Quick Facts About ADHD (That I Thought I Knew, But Really Learned at 3 AM)

ADHD stands for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. (And no, ADD isn't a separate thing anymore—it's all under the ADHD umbrella now.)
It's a neurodevelopmental disorder recognized by the American Psychological Association—meaning it's how the brain developed, not a character flaw or parenting failure. (I used to say this to families; now I remind myself of it constantly.)
ADHD can be diagnosed in children (6+) and adults. Many of my adult clients discover their ADHD only after their child's diagnosis. My spouse was one of them.
There are three types of ADHD, each with distinct symptom patterns that show up differently in different people.
Symptoms impact multiple life areas—home, school, work, relationships. If struggles are only in one setting, we need to look deeper.
ADHD often underlies anxiety, depression, oppositional behavior, and relationship challenges. I knew this clinically. Living it showed me how deeply interconnected everything truly is.
Executive functioning is the primary challenge—think memory, task completion, organization, motivation, emotion regulation, and impulse control.
Management requires a multi-pronged approach: diet, exercise, medication (when appropriate), therapy, and environmental supports.
ADHD brains mature 3-5 years later than neurotypical brains, especially in social-emotional development. Your 10-year-old may emotionally be closer to 7.
ADHD is lifelong. We don't "cure" it—we learn to work with it, support it, and sometimes even celebrate it.
ADHD runs in families. If your child has it, there's a strong chance a parent does too.
Girls with ADHD are massively under-diagnosed because their symptoms often look like anxiety, perfectionism, or "just being spacey." It was a struggle to get professionals to believe me about my own daughter.
ADHD is neurodivergence—a different, not deficient, way of experiencing the world.
SPD (Sensory Processing Disorder) frequently co-occurs with ADHD, adding another layer to the puzzle.

Beyond Behaviors: What I Thought I Understood

Here's what I need to confess: For years in my practice, I explained executive functioning challenges, sensory processing differences, and emotional regulation difficulties to parents. I used all the right clinical language. I offered evidence-based strategies. And I genuinely thought I got it.

Then I lived it.

I thought I understood what "difficulty with transitions" meant until I watched my child melt entirely down because we needed to leave the park five minutes earlier than expected—even though I'd given warnings.

I thought I knew what "sensory sensitivities" looked like until I spent an hour removing every tag from every piece of clothing in our house while my child sobbed from the discomfort.

I thought I grasped "time blindness" until my spouse, a brilliant, capable adult, genuinely couldn't comprehend how two hours had passed.

The clinical understanding was accurate. But it was incomplete.

ADHD isn't about choosing not to pay attention or deciding to be disorganized. It's about how the brain processes information, regulates itself, and manages executive functions—the mental skills we use to plan, focus, remember instructions, and juggle multiple tasks.

I could recite that definition in my sleep. But understanding it in my bones came from watching my family navigate a world not built for their brains.

Sometimes, the ADHD brain's intense hyperfocus on something interesting creates more problems than distractibility. I've watched my kids forget to eat because they're so absorbed in building something amazing. I've seen my spouse lose eight hours to a project while urgent tasks sat undone.

No child chooses poor behavior. They're doing the best they can with the brain they have.

I used to say this to parents to help them feel better. Now I say it to remind myself when I'm frustrated, tired, and my neurotypical brain is screaming, "Why can't you just REMEMBER?"

The Three Types of ADHD

Predominantly Inattentive ADHD (The "Quiet" Type)

This is most common in girls and often flies under the radar because it doesn't look like the stereotypical "bouncing off walls" ADHD.

Symptoms include:

Appearing forgetful or "spacey"
Losing things constantly (I've purchased SO many water bottles, retainers, jackets...)
Missing details, making careless mistakes
Difficulty following multi-step directions
Emotional sensitivity and intensity
Intense bouts of anxiety and perfectionism
Avoiding challenging tasks or learning new things
Daydreaming, lost in an imaginative land

In my practice, I'd explain this type to parents. In my home, I live with it daily. The forgotten homework, the lost library books, the "I wasn't listening" moments—they're not defiance. The brain genuinely didn't capture that information the way mine automatically does.

Predominantly Hyperactive/Impulsive ADHD (The "Classic" Type)

This is what most people picture with ADHD:

Constant movement—fidgeting, tapping, rocking
Difficulty staying seated
Running or climbing at inappropriate times
Talking excessively
Blurting out answers
Interrupting conversations
Acting without thinking through consequences
Always "on the go" like a motor is running

Combined Type ADHD

This involves significant symptoms from both categories. It's what most of my clients present with.

Important note: ADHD is lifelong. You don't "outgrow" it. The hyperactivity transforms into gaming marathons, extreme sports, job-hopping, or intense hobbies. I used to counsel parents about this. Now I see it in real-time as my spouse shifts between passionate interests with an intensity I still don't fully comprehend.

ADHD, Executive Functioning, and the Prefrontal Cortex

ADHD primarily affects the brain's executive functioning hub—the prefrontal cortex. This region is the last to fully mature (typically between ages 25-30 in neurotypical brains, and later in ADHD brains).

It controls:

Attention and focus
Organization and planning
Time management
Mental flexibility
Emotion regulation
Impulse control
Working memory

I could lecture on this for hours. But living with executive dysfunction taught me what it actually means day-to-day:

It means setting 15 alarms and still being late. It means starting tasks with full intention, only to find yourself two hours later having done something completely different. It means the emotional weight of "I forgot again" is accumulating into shame.

Here's the critical part: No two ADHD brains are identical. My two kids with ADHD have completely different strengths and struggles. One hyperfocuses on art for hours; the other can't sit through a 20-minute meal. One is socially intuitive but academically disorganized; the other is the opposite.

Clinically, I knew this. Personally, I was still surprised every day by how differently ADHD shows up in my own household.

The Gap Between Clinical Knowledge and Lived Experience

When I finally stopped trying to apply my professional training like a checklist and started truly observing, listening, and adapting to my family's actual needs, everything shifted.

I learned that:

Morning routines aren't about "just trying harder." We need visual schedules, body doubling, timers, and sometimes accepting that we're doing "good enough" rather than perfect.
"Just write it down" doesn't work when working memory struggles mean you forget to check what you wrote. We needed alarms, redundant reminders, and systems built for brains that don't naturally track this way.
Emotional dysregulation isn't manipulation. It's a genuine neurological challenge in regulating big feelings. My clinical training taught me this; my parenting tested it.
Sensory needs are REAL. The foods that make my kids gag, the sounds that feel painful, the textures that are unbearable—these aren't preferences. They're neurological realities.

As a neurotypical person, I have the privilege of a brain that works the way most environments expect. My family doesn't have that privilege. Understanding that gap—really understanding it—changed how I parent, partner, and practice.

Understanding Your (or Your Child's) ADHD Brain

When I finally understood how my family's ADHD brains worked—not theoretically, but practically—it was like someone turned on the lights. Suddenly, accommodations weren't "giving in"—they were providing the right tools for the job.

External supports like timers, visual schedules, fidget tools, and body breaks aren't crutches; they're brain-based necessities. I used to recommend these to families with professional confidence. Now I recommend them with hard-won wisdom from implementing them in my own home (and sometimes failing, adjusting, and trying again).

Our brains are incredibly plastic and adaptable. With the right support, people with ADHD develop amazing coping mechanisms and often channel their unique wiring into creative problem-solving, innovative thinking, and passionate pursuits. I've watched this transformation in my clients for years. Watching it in my own children and spouse is infinitely more profound.

The Ripple Effects: Daily Life with ADHD

ADHD impacts every domain: home, school, work, and relationships. Academic struggles, peer rejection, challenges in emotion regulation, workplace difficulties, and relationship conflicts—these are real and exhausting.

I thought I understood the exhaustion families experienced. Then I became one of those families. The constant advocacy at school, the emotional labor of preparing everyone for transitions, the relationship strain when one partner's brain works fundamentally differently—it's relentless.

Research shows that girls with ADHD face higher risks for mood disorders, anxiety, self-harm, and eating disorders. They also present with more anxiety, perfectionism, and mood swings, which often delays proper diagnosis and treatment. I've seen this clinically for years. Then I had to fight my colleagues for the diagnosis of my own daughter.

The Neurodivergent Need for Novelty

One thing I've learned in my clinic and at home: novelty is essential for ADHD brains. New and stimulating experiences activate the brain's reward centers, making it easier to focus and engage. ADHD brains are wired to seek dopamine, and novelty provides it.

I used to explain the dopamine-seeking behavior to parents as a clinical fact. Now I understand it as the reason my child can't do the same math worksheet twice but will spend hours building increasingly complex Lego creations, or why my spouse needs constant variation in work projects to stay engaged.

This is why your child can't remember homework but knows every detail of their favorite video game, or why your spouse starts a million projects but finishing them is torture. The brain craves that hit of "new."

By building novelty into learning, work, and daily life—rotating activities, incorporating movement, using games and challenges—we work with ADHD brains, not against them. This was a nice theory in my practice. It's a daily necessity in my home.

A Family Affair

ADHD has a strong genetic component. In my practice, I can't count how many times a parent has come in for their child's diagnosis and left with their own. I did have a heads-up of sorts, as my husband KNEW his ADHD existed.

In our house, we've learned to laugh (eventually) at the collective executive dysfunction when I'm the only neurotypical person trying to keep everyone on track- and it begins to fade. We've also learned to build systems that work for ALL of us—visual reminders, body doubling for tasks, shared calendars with excessive notifications, and lots of grace.

Being the neurotypical partner and parent sometimes feels lonely. I'm the default organizer, the reminder-giver, the keeper of schedules and deadlines. But I've also learned to appreciate the incredible creativity, spontaneity, and passionate engagement my family brings. They've taught me to be more flexible, to see problems from entirely new angles, and to question whether "the way things are supposed to be done" is actually the best way.

Breaking the Stigma

ADHD affects about 16% of children—roughly 1 in 6 kids. Yet stigma persists. Comments like "everyone's a little ADHD" or "they just need more discipline" are not only inaccurate but harmful.

I'm ashamed to admit that early in my career, before my personal ADHD education, I sometimes thought similar things. Not about my clients—I was too well-trained for that—but I didn't fully grasp the LIVED reality of it. I didn't understand the weight of swimming upstream every single day.

Life with ADHD often feels like swimming upstream constantly. But here's what I tell clients and remind myself: Life doesn't have to be this hard. With proper diagnosis, treatment, and support, things get so much better.

Many adults tell me they didn't realize life could be easier until they got help. They thought everyone struggled this much. Watching them access treatment and support, seeing the relief and self-compassion that followed is powerful.

The Social-Emotional Gap

Children with ADHD lag 3-5 years behind their peers in social-emotional maturity. This is critical to understand because we often discipline based on chronological age, not developmental age.

I taught this concept in workshops. Then I had to live it with my own kids.

Your 12-year-old having a meltdown? They might be functioning like a 9-year-old emotionally. That doesn't mean lower your expectations forever, but it means meeting them where they are RIGHT NOW and building skills from there.

As a neurotypical parent, this has been one of my biggest challenges. My brain expects age-appropriate behavior because that's what I'm wired to expect. Learning to constantly recalibrate, to remember that developmental age matters more than chronological age, to extend grace when my instinct is frustration—it's ongoing work.

This developmental gap contributes to shame, low self-esteem, peer rejection, and behavior issues. Understanding it changes how we respond. Living it changes everything.

The Co-Occurrence of SPD

Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) frequently accompanies ADHD. My kids experience both, which means we're managing not just attention and executive function challenges but also sensory sensitivities—tags in clothing, certain food textures, loud noises, bright lights, and the need for deep-pressure input.

I thought I understood sensory processing from my training in play therapy. I didn't. Not really.

Understanding the sensory piece has been game-changing for us. Sometimes what looks like defiance or a meltdown is actually sensory overload. As the neurotypical person in the house, I don't have these sensitivities, which means I have to constantly remember that my experience of an environment is fundamentally different from my family's experience.

The restaurant that feels fine to me might be overwhelming torture for my child. The clothing texture I don't notice might cause genuine physical discomfort. Learning to believe and validate these experiences—not just intellectually but in my gut reactions—has been crucial.

A Lifelong Journey, Not a Life Sentence

ADHD is lifelong, but it's manageable. Early intervention makes a profound difference in developing adaptive skills and preventing more severe mental health challenges later.

Best practice treatment includes:

Medication (when appropriate and desired)
Therapeutic interventions (play therapy for kids, CBT/DBT for teens and adults)
Parent training and support
School/workplace accommodations
Physical activity and movement breaks
Sensory supports
Environmental modifications

I live this both ways—providing this care in my clinic and implementing it at home. Some days are beautiful chaos. Other days are just chaos. But we're building a life that works for neurodivergent brains, not fighting against them.

What is the difference between my professional understanding and my lived understanding? Professionally, I could create treatment plans and explain strategies. Personally, I've learned that implementation is messy, progress isn't linear, and flexibility matters more than perfection.

What I Wish I'd Known Earlier (And What I Tell Families Now)

As a neurotypical person loving and raising neurodivergent people, here's what I've learned:

Your instincts might be wrong. What feels like the "right" approach based on how your brain works might not work for theirs. Stay curious. Keep adjusting.

You can't think your way into understanding neurodivergence. You have to observe, listen, and sometimes just sit with the discomfort of "this doesn't make sense to me, but I trust it's real for them."

Accommodation isn't weakness. It's smart adaptation. Glasses accommodate vision differences. Accommodations for ADHD and SPD are no different.

You'll make mistakes. I've lost my patience, said the wrong thing, expected too much, and had to apologize more times than I can count. Growth happens in the repair, not the perfection.

The clinical knowledge matters, but the relationship matters more. All my training is useful, but what my family needs most is me showing up with love, patience, and willingness to adapt.

Reaching Out for Support

If you suspect ADHD in yourself or your child, please reach out. Finding a mental health provider who specializes in ADHD—especially a play therapist for younger children—can be transformative.

Parenting neurodivergent kids is hard. Living as a neurodivergent adult is hard. Being the neurotypical partner or parent navigating this alongside them is also hard. But community, understanding, and the right support make all the difference.

In my practice, I now bring both professional expertise and personal humility. I share evidence-based strategies AND real-life stories of what actually worked (or didn't) in my own home. I can sit across from exhausted parents and say, "I know. I really know."

ADHD Awareness Month reminds us to embrace neurodiversity, challenge stigma, and support one another. ADHD isn't just about behaviors—it's about beautiful, complex brains that work differently. These brains deserve empathy, accommodation, and celebration.

You don't have to navigate this alone. Whether you're just beginning to suspect ADHD, in the thick of diagnosis, or years into managing it—whether you're neurodivergent yourself or loving someone who is—support exists.

As someone walking this path both professionally and personally, as someone who thought she understood but learned she had so much more to learn, I can tell you: understanding changes everything. And that understanding deepens every single day.

If you're looking for support for your neurodivergent child or yourself, consider reaching out to a mental health professional who specializes in ADHD and SPD. And if you're a neurotypical person loving neurodivergent people, know that your learning curve is steep, your journey is valid, and you don't have to have all the answers. Life can be easier.

You deserve that. They deserve that.