When the Mask Cracks: My Journey to an ADHD Diagnosis at 40 and the Peace That Followed

When the Mask Cracks: My Journey to an ADHD Diagnosis at 40 and the Peace That Followed

For most of my life, I was convinced I was just “a lot.”
Too sensitive. Too emotional. Too much.

I cried easily — so often, in fact, that one person joked I needed windshield wipers for my glasses. People told me I talked too much. That I needed to toughen up. That I was reading too much into things. But from a young age, my brain was always on high alert — analyzing, overthinking, anticipating people’s moods and reactions. I couldn’t help it. Reading a room became second nature, and it was exhausting.

Even though I didn’t have the words for it back then, I was hyper-attuned to emotional dynamics. I could sense when someone was pulling away, even subtly. I felt every shift in energy, every look, every change in tone. And if I thought I had disappointed someone or said something wrong, it would eat at me for days. Rejection sensitivity was my constant, unwanted companion.

But I was good at making friends. Empathy came easily — maybe too easily — and I became the go-to person for comfort, advice, and deep talks. This became my lifeline, and eventually, my calling: I became a therapist. Helping others felt natural — it was one area of life where my intense emotional radar actually fit.

Still, under all of that was an uneasiness I couldn’t quite name.

School was okay. I was never top of the class, but I figured out how to get by without doing too much. If I liked the subject, I could do well. If I didn’t? Forget it. My brain just refused. I wasn’t lazy, but I often felt like I was faking competence. My teachers and peers assumed I was fine — chatty, maybe too much at times — but certainly not someone who might need support. After all, I was functioning, right?

When Masking Meets Motherhood

It wasn’t until I became a mother that everything began to unravel.

The mental load of motherhood was staggering. Keeping the house clean, managing schedules, nurturing kids, showing up in my career, being present in friendships, and tending to my marriage — it all felt impossible. I was constantly overwhelmed, and the usual systems I’d relied on — masking, pushing through, trying harder — stopped working.

I’d walk into a room and forget why I was there. I’d start five tasks and finish none. I’d overanalyze every social interaction. I couldn’t rest. I couldn’t slow down. My mind was like a browser with 47 tabs open — all the time. I never felt present in the moment. And this led to me feeling more disconnected to myself and others than I had ever felt.

Here’s how masking began to fall apart for me in motherhood:

• I couldn’t hide my overwhelm anymore. My kids needed my real presence, and I was constantly distracted, short-tempered, or checked out.

• Keeping up appearances felt impossible. I’d forget appointments, lose track of forms, zone out in conversations with others and feel like I was failing in every area.

• My rejection sensitivity exploded. If I perceived that I wasn’t included or wasn’t invited to something it sent me into a spiral for days.

• I found myself overstimulated by noise, clutter, and chaos. I couldn’t even think clearly enough to figure out how to ask for help.

• I was always doing something, but never felt accomplished. I was busy — frantic even — but deeply disconnected from my own life.

I hated it. I hated how I felt as a mom, as a wife. I didn’t know how to fall apart. I didn’t know how to rest. I didn’t know how to slow down enough to connect. And the shame that came with that was crushing.

The Moment It Hit Me

Then, something shifted. I was reading an article about women with ADHD — particularly those diagnosed later in life — and I felt like I had been punched in the gut.
There I was.
In every word.
In every example.

The emotional reactivity.
The mental clutter.
The rejection sensitivity.
The need for stimulation.
The constant feeling that I was missing something.
The burnout from over-functioning and under-recognizing my own limits.

It was me. All of it.

There was a name for this. I wasn’t just defective or bad at life or too sensitive or too emotional. I had ADHD. And I had been living with it my entire life, undiagnosed and unrecognized.

That moment changed everything.

Rebuilding From That Point Forward

I started therapy again — this time with someone who understood ADHD in women. I began putting real systems in place, not just productivity hacks, but ways of living that actually worked for my brain.

I learned how to honor my need for structure without rigidity.
I created routines that didn’t feel like punishment.
I built in rest — true, restorative rest — and stopped feeling guilty for needing it.
I learned to name my needs, to ask for help, to set boundaries with both time and energy.
I found peace in understanding myself, instead of constantly trying to fix myself.

AND I began the process of healing from living my life without an understanding of what was actually going on. I began to unravel old stories of who I was and show my younger self love and forgiveness. I can’t even tell you how much that has brought to my life.

The difference? I’m no longer surviving — I’m living. I’m not spiraling in shame every time I forget something or fall behind. I have tools, support, and compassion for myself. And most of all, I know I’m not alone or defective — I’m wired differently, and that’s okay. It’s still difficult sometimes to do everything I need to do and to slow down enough to stay present, but I am MUCH kinder to myself now. My shame and need to be “like everyone else” have been much quieter. It’s not always easy and I know it’s life work, but just showing up for myself in this work and having compassion for myself have healed so much for me.

I am now 47 and have gained so much over the past 7 years. I have put work into understanding how to help other women who get diagnosed with ADHD later in life. I intimately understand how complex untangling all of this is. And I love helping others find their words for their experiences.

A Message to Other Moms

If you’ve ever felt like you’re sprinting through life and never catching up…
If you’ve ever wondered why you’re so tired from holding it all together…
If you’ve ever felt like everyone else got the instruction manual for adulthood and you missed it…

You are not alone.
And you don’t have to keep doing it this way.

Therapy has really helped — both personally and professionally. It gave me the words I didn’t have for 40 years. It gave me the freedom to show up for myself in ways I never knew I needed. And it gave me the tools to show up for my family with presence, compassion, and peace.

If you’re a mom who’s been wondering what’s really going on beneath the surface — if you’re tired of the chaos and want clarity — I invite you to take the brave step of getting support. Whether it’s therapy, coaching, or connecting with a professional who understands the nuances of ADHD in women, it’s never too late.

I see you. I am you.
And I promise: there is so much hope on the other side of understanding.