As a neurodiversity consultant, and someone who has ADHD herself, I’ve seen firsthand the complex landscape of ADHD. My family is neurodivergent, too, which makes this conversation personal. ADHD has often been viewed as a disorder needing correction—but it’s time to challenge that idea. ADHD is not a disorder; it’s a difference, and while support is essential, it should empower rather than pathologise. ADHD is a difference, not a disorder. And while support is crucial, that support should focus on helping ADHD individuals thrive in a world that’s largely designed for a single, narrow definition of “normal.”
A Historical Definition That Needs Updating
ADHD was classified as a disorder in a time when behaviours diverging from social norms were often seen as flaws. Take school settings, for example: ADHD traits, like a child’s tendency to blurt out thoughts without raising their hand, or needing frequent movement breaks, clash with a classroom’s expectation for students to sit still and follow rules silently. Instead of seeing these behaviours as natural expressions of the ADHD brain’s wiring, they’re often interpreted as disruptive or inattentive.
For decades, terms like “deficit” and “disorder” framed ADHD as a list of symptoms that need to be “fixed.” However, what we label as symptoms—impulsivity, hyperactivity, and a quick shift from task to task—are qualities that could be beneficial in settings that reward innovation and adaptability. A child who has been reprimanded for fidgeting in class may grow up to find that very same energy fuels their success in a creative career. But because of rigid societal norms, that child might spend years feeling inadequate rather than recognising the potential strengths of their unique wiring.
ADHD Is Not a Disorder — It’s a Neurological Difference
ADHD isn’t about broken brain functions; it’s about a different way of processing and reacting to the world. People with ADHD often thrive on stimulation, which means they may excel in high-energy situations. I know several ADHD adults who gravitate toward fast-paced environments like emergency medicine or creative arts, where quick thinking and adaptability are strengths rather than liabilities.
ADHD brains, however, have difficulty adjusting to prolonged tasks that require consistent attention and may struggle with environments that lack variety. Imagine an ADHD adult working in a typical 9-to-5 office, faced with a daily routine of repetitive tasks. They may feel mentally drained—not because they’re lazy or distracted but because their brain is wired to respond to novelty. By viewing ADHD as a neurological difference, we can create environments that respect and support this diversity in processing rather than forcing individuals to conform to expectations that are misaligned with their natural tendencies.
Why Saying “ADHD Is a Disorder” Causes Harm
The label of “disorder” implies that ADHD is a deficit, leading many individuals with ADHD to feel inadequate or “less than.” I’ve seen this in clients who have exceptional creative abilities but suffer from low self-esteem due to years of feeling “not good enough.” One young artist I worked with, for instance, struggled to complete traditional assignments in school. The label “disorder” led teachers to focus on her limitations instead of her artistic talents. The constant message she received was that she needed to “try harder” to be “normal,” which only eroded her self-worth.
When we label ADHD as a disorder, it turns natural ways of thinking into something that must be corrected. This approach overlooks the fact that ADHD brains are not lesser but simply different. Recognising these unique strengths allows people with ADHD to feel validated rather than inferior. My own journey through the ups and downs of managing ADHD has taught me that “disorder” is a term that doesn’t fit the lived experience of ADHD—it fails to capture the creative insights, the passion, and the resilience that often come with this unique wiring.
Support Remains Essential, Even Without the Disorder Label
Redefining ADHD as a difference doesn’t mean we ignore the real challenges people face. Take my teenage daughter, who finds the conventional school day exhausting. Her school environment, with its rigid schedule, prolonged focus requirements, and lack of physical activity, isn’t structured for the ADHD mind. Yet the support she needs shouldn’t be aimed at “fixing” her; instead, it should focus on finding tools that allow her to engage with learning in a way that suits her. Her teachers could incorporate movement breaks, allow her to use fidget tools, and embrace alternative learning strategies.
I often hear concerns that without the “disorder” label, people with ADHD may lose access to important accommodations. But this need not be the case. By focusing on support tailored to ADHD’s unique challenges—like providing flexible workspaces or structuring classrooms to include varied activities—we can still offer essential help. Emphasising support over correction allows ADHD individuals to flourish in ways that respect their neurodiversity rather than trying to make them fit into rigid structures.
Challenging Society’s Definition of “Normal”
So much of the ADHD struggle isn’t just about managing symptoms; it’s about meeting societal standards that narrowly define what’s acceptable. Take the standard workday, for instance. Society values sustained focus, predictability, and productivity measured by hours on the project. For many ADHD adults, myself included, this model can feel stifling. In my own career, I found that stepping into roles with more flexible hours and project-based work allowed me to capitalise on my creative bursts and hyper-focus rather than force myself to meet an arbitrary schedule.
Yet this “normal” is a societal construct, not an absolute truth. People with ADHD naturally process information and experiences differently. Instead of excluding them for not fitting in, we should be broadening our definitions of productivity and success to include a range of cognitive approaches.
Embracing ADHD’s Unique Contributions
The world benefits from cognitive diversity, including ADHD. Many renowned creators, entrepreneurs, and scientists—think of figures like Richard Branson or Michael Phelps—display ADHD traits. These individuals excel in areas that value quick thinking, resilience, and creative problem-solving. But for every high-profile ADHD success story, there are countless others who struggle in silence, feeling misunderstood and undervalued.
I see this often in clients who have spent years being told that they need to “slow down” or “stick to one thing at a time.” One young adult I worked with recently, who had a passion for storytelling, was repeatedly advised to pursue more “practical” career paths due to concerns over his impulsivity. Yet when he followed his passion, he thrived, finding that his quick, associative thinking was an asset in film production. ADHD individuals contribute to society in remarkable ways, but only if we make space for them to thrive on their own terms.
Addressing Counterpoints: Why the Disorder Debate Matters
Of course, the debate around labelling ADHD as a disorder brings up important points. Many families rely on this label to secure insurance coverage, medication, therapy, and access to educational accommodations. A mother I know once shared her concerns about losing the “disorder” label, fearing her child would miss out on the specialised support he needs to stay engaged in school. This is a valid concern. But redefining ADHD should not mean stripping away resources; it should mean evolving our systems to support neurodivergent needs without relying solely on a medicalised framework.
We can build a model of support that recognises ADHD as part of the neurodiversity spectrum while still ensuring access to the necessary resources. Redefining ADHD in a more inclusive way is about expanding our understanding to embrace all minds and find ways to celebrate each person’s contributions, regardless of how their brain is wired.
Conclusion: A New Perspective on ADHD
Rethinking ADHD as a difference instead of a disorder represents a cultural shift, one that calls for a more inclusive understanding of what it means to be human. People with ADHD, like my family members and clients, bring invaluable perspectives and strengths. But these individuals deserve acceptance and support based on their unique qualities—not an outdated label that narrowly defines them.
ADHD is not a disorder to be “fixed”—it’s a difference to be understood, valued, and supported. If we shift the focus to recognising and celebrating the diversity of ADHD, we can move toward a society that values everyone’s unique potential and allows them to flourish in ways that best suit their natural talents.