How do Fvck do I explain ADHD and Autism?

I'll put my Kindergarten Teacher Hat for this

For the longest time, I thought I was just messy, moody, and “too much.”

Then I started working with toddlers…
And realized: I was never too much.
I was just unsupported.

Let me tell you a story.

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The moment he sits down, something in him needs to move again.

The Boy Who Couldn’t Sit Still

There’s a three-year-old in our Kita who dances while eating.

Full-body wiggle, limbs flapping, sound effects between bites.

His whole nervous system is in motion.

The moment he sits down, something in him needs to move again—he stims with his spoon, bounces his knees, blurts out “Banana!” for no reason.

I used to think, "Wow, so much energy."
Now I think, "I remember when they told me to sit still… and I couldn’t."

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So… What Is ADHD?

ADHD (Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder) isn’t just about being distracted or hyper. It’s a neurological difference—your brain is wired for interest and stimulation, not routine and structure.

Here’s what it can look like:

• Struggling to focus… unless it's something super interesting (hello, hyperfocus).

• Forgetting basic stuff but remembering random trivia from 1997.

• Restlessness, fidgeting, blurting things out.

• Emotional intensity that feels like a rollercoaster.

If that sounds familiar, you’re not alone.
It did for me too.

But ADHD wasn’t the full picture.

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When the noise gets too much, she shuts down.

The Girl Who Played Alone in the Corner

Then there’s another child.

She lines up cups and speaks in whispers.

She hears everything—the buzz of the fridge, the flicker of the lights, the rustle of paper across the room. When the noise gets too much, she shuts down.

Too many people? She finds the quietest corner and plays alone.

One day, another child hugs her—and she flinches.
Not because she doesn’t like hugs.
Because touch can feel like too much.

That was me too.
But no one saw it. They just said I was “shy.”
Or “dramatic.”

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Enter: Autism (ASD) — And the Overlap

Autism is also a neurodevelopmental condition, but it shows up differently:

• Sensory sensitivities (sound, texture, light, etc.)

• Social communication differences (processing tone, decoding unspoken rules)

• Deep, focused interests

• A need for sameness or rituals that feel grounding

Now imagine this:

Your brain wants novelty (ADHD) and predictability (Autism) at the same time.
You crave connection but miss social cues.
You feel everything — but don’t always know how to explain it.

That’s AuDHD — when ADHD and Autism coexist in the same brain.

It’s not just double-diagnosis.
It’s a tug-of-war inside your nervous system.

One side says “Talk now or you’ll forget.”
The other says “Wait, I need to rehearse this conversation five times.”
One side craves stimulation.
The other says, “Too loud, too fast, too much.”

It’s not a disorder.
It’s just a different way of being in the world.
One that often went unnoticed—especially if you were a “smart kid,” a high masker, or good at mimicking your way through school and life.

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I see kids who are exactly who I used to be—before I learned to mask, mimic, and shut down.

Why My Kita Kids Are Helping Me Heal

Because when I see them:

• Covering their ears during music time

• Melting down after too many transitions

• Shouting “STOP!” when someone hugs them without asking

—I don’t see bad behavior.

I see unmet needs.
I see sensitive nervous systems trying to stay safe.
I see kids who are exactly who I used to be—before I learned to mask, mimic, and shut down.

And I wonder:
What if someone had seen me this way?
Not as difficult. Not dramatic.
But as neurodivergent.

As a child who needed space, movement, silence, clarity—not punishment.

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If your childhood feels like a blur of confusion and self-blame—this is for you.

For My Fellow Late-Diagnosed Adults

If you’ve ever wondered why life felt like too much…

If you were told you were “too sensitive,” “too lazy,” or “too intense”…

If your childhood feels like a blur of confusion and self-blame—

This is for you.

You’re not broken.
You never were.

You were likely neurodivergent in a world that didn’t have the words—or the patience—to see it.

And now that you’re here, understanding yourself as an adult?
You get to give yourself what you always needed:

Language.
Compassion.
Permission to unmask.

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P.S. Let’s Keep Talking

If this cracked something open for you, I’d love for you to:

• Subscribe for more stories that connect the dots backward.

• Leave a comment — I read every one.

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You’re not too much.
You’re not alone.
You’re just… neurodivergent.

Like the dancing boy with the banana and the girl lining up her cups.
Like me.
Like maybe… you. 💛

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