There was a time I used to walk around like I had the golden ticket. “Yeah, I’ve got ADHD,” I’d say, like I’d just come back from battle with a purple heart. Took the meds. Talked the talk. Wore the diagnosis like a limited-edition designer label. ADHD was my edgy little twist — my excuse, my performance enhancer, my conversation starter.
And I wasn’t alone. In the Chemsex scene, it felt like everyone had ADHD. We’d all be sitting around at 3am, pupils like dinner plates, talking over each other about trauma, dopamine, and what meds we were prescribed. Everyone’s brain was broken. Everyone was special. Funny how that worked.
But now? I’m absolutely done with it.
I’m sick to death of seeing ADHD paraded around like it’s a glittery personality type instead of what it actually is — a neurodevelopmental disorder that makes basic functioning a war zone for some people.
Especially in the workplace. Especially on LinkedIn — that digital graveyard of sincerity where people now post humblebrags like:
“My ADHD means I’m a visionary!”
“Thanks to my ADHD, I disrupt traditional workflows!”
“ADHD makes me a better leader because I think outside the neurotypical box!”
Jesus wept.
Listen, if your ADHD has gifted you with superhuman creativity and productivity, I’m thrilled for you. Truly. But let’s not act like forgetting your passwords, interrupting every Zoom call, and needing seven productivity apps just to send an email is some kind of tactical advantage. You’re not Tony Stark. You’re just disorganized.
Here’s a radical idea: instead of posting about how your inability to focus is a blessing in disguise, maybe read a book. Go to therapy. Try managing your symptoms like a grown adult.
Because here’s the part no one puts in the LinkedIn post: ADHD can wreck your relationships, tank your job, and leave you crying on your kitchen floor at 2am because you haven’t paid your council tax in six months and now there’s a summons. There’s no dopamine hit in that, is there?
I’m not saying ADHD isn’t real — of course it is. I’m saying we’ve entered a bizarre era where the disorder is being marketed better than most skincare brands. If your idea of self-awareness is slapping a label on your forehead and demanding applause, I’m going to need you to log off for a minute.
There’s nothing sexy about executive dysfunction. There’s nothing glamorous about stimulant dependency. There’s nothing empowering about burning out every three weeks and calling it “part of the process.”
You want to be honest about your ADHD? Great. Start by learning to manage it. Stop branding it. You’re not broken, you’re not brilliant, you’re just a person — like the rest of us — trying to get through the day without losing the plot.
And if that’s not worth a LinkedIn post, I don’t know what is.
