Hear Me Out: Getting diagnosed with ADHD as an adult left me feeling angry and betrayed

SINGAPORE – When I received my diagnosis for attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) earlier in 2025, I was relieved at first – and then very, very angry.

Relief came because I finally had an explanation for the challenges that have defined my daily existence.

That constant feeling of being in a rush and never feeling settled. Struggling to sit for long periods of time. Taking half an hour to leave the house because I often forget or misplace something important multiple times over.

Burning the midnight oil perpetually and having dark rings beneath my eyes, because most of my productivity happens in the quiet hours between 1 and 3am the night before a deadline.

After this relief, anger soon followed. Why had it taken so long to find this out?

As my psychiatrist pointed out, the signs were “extremely obvious”. And yet, he added, my neurodivergence likely went undiagnosed because awareness and attitudes towards ADHD remain in their infancy in Singapore.

Am I a ‘bad student’?

With the benefit of hindsight, my “delinquent” school experiences now appear in a different light.

My Secondary 3 report card lists my conduct as “poor”, with my grades ranging between F9s and D7s and an L1R5 grade of 52, partly because of poor attendance and truancy.

At the age of 14, I often cut class by taking the MRT well beyond my school’s stop because I so dreaded being in school.

I remember my form teacher telling me my truancy was a “disgrace” to my parents’ hard work. Conversations with the school counsellor focused on the stress I was inflicting on my family instead of how my neurodivergence might be shaping my experience of school.

A child psychiatrist I saw diagnosed me with depression and prescribed antidepressants, missing the underlying reasons entirely.

What led to this ambiguity was likely how for much of my primary and early secondary schooling, I was considered a “good student” because I read voraciously – under the table – despite not paying attention in class.

By the end of Secondary 3, I had stopped attending school altogether. I transitioned into homeschooling, which meant an expensive series of one-on-one tutors, before taking my O levels as a private candidate. Having to leave school as a teen was scarring. It meant entering uncharted territory, leaving my friends behind and losing 10kg over the course of a year.

My relationship with schooling later recovered when I took to hands-on learning in polytechnic and later scored straight As in university. However, this experience left me with a deep and lingering distrust of mental health professionals for years, which partly explains why I sought help for my ADHD symptoms only at the age of 29.

What makes ADHD particularly painful in Singapore is not just the executive dysfunction and attention challenges that define the condition. It is also the shame and indifference directed at those whose learning styles and ways of working do not conform to the majority.

As an adult, I am often told that I do not seem neurodivergent because I am “so productive”. This is despite, how under the surface, I wish I could sit still and work steadfastly in an organised way with intrinsic motivation “like a normal person”.

When diagnosed later in life

Studies worldwide estimate the prevalence of ADHD is around 5 to 8 per cent of the population.

As a journalist, I often encounter people with similar stories to mine – troubled educational histories or burnout-prone professional lives, followed by a life-changing diagnosis.

When interviewing school dropouts for an article on

why they left the formal education system

, four of the five people I profiled found out they had ADHD only after they left school.

Mr Dominic Nadaison, a 32-year-old personal trainer, was told from an early age that he is “smart, but doesn’t apply himself” – a common refrain for the neurodivergent.

He dropped out at Secondary 3 because of truancy and disciplinary issues.

In his late 20s, he was diagnosed with ADHD. “You have all this pent-up energy. And all these things you want to do. It masks itself as depression and not wanting to do anything at all,” he says.

This new self-understanding led to a rewarding career change where he no longer works in a stuffy office environment and has more autonomy over his time.

Mr Joel Law dropped out seven times from junior colleges, polytechnics and the Millennia Institute before he went to university. Now a 27-year-old law student at Monash University in Melbourne, he says his ADHD diagnosis at 20 came with a mixture of relief, grief and anger as he had been labelled a “bad student” for years due to his executive dysfunction.

“I felt grief because I had so much lost potential and lost moments to be my very best self in my younger years,” he says. “And anger at everyone who used to punish me for behaviour that was quite clearly ADHD.”

For some, recognition comes even later.

Ms Moonlake Lee, who founded the non-profit Unlocking ADHD social service agency, was diagnosed at 50 after reaching a “point of desperation” – caught between her parenting and caregiving responsibilities, and struggling to organise herself to meet them.

Her diagnosis followed a year after her then 15-year-old daughter’s, after researching the condition. She says: “It took me some time to process the diagnosis. The incredulity from people around me felt a little invalidating at first.”

In her view, the real issue lies in a general lack of awareness of the full spectrum of the condition. “Without understanding the full picture, it’s easy for society to label individuals with ADHD as lazy, unmotivated or unintelligent,” she says.

Some individuals may appear to manage well on the surface, even though internally, they may be struggling with chronic burnout. Others with fewer support systems may display more obvious challenges.

Singapore’s fixation on malingering

In Singapore, the complicated relationship with mental health means that one’s self-image is deeply intertwined with one’s productivity, because of both academic pressure and poor work-life balance.

Singapore is one of the few countries in the world where most companies expect workers to show a medical certificate to prove they are actually ill, reflecting a deep-seated suspicion of malingering.

The prevalence of ADHD as a buzzword online does not help, making the condition simultaneously ubiquitous and trivialised. That the word has entered the everyday lexicon is a double-edged sword: More are aware of it, but many don’t take it seriously.

What results is a dismissive attitude towards neurodivergence and other mental health struggles.

For instance, in the Telegram group Paiseh Questions, where Singapore users answer anonymous polls based on crowdsourced questions, half of over 2,000 users responded “Yes” to the question: “Do you consider people who constantly mention mental health issues pick-me?”

Being a “pick me” is a derogatory term for a person seen as behaving in a contemptible way for attention and approval.

Despite these attitudes, my own encounters with others like me have made a real difference.

Speaking to other dropouts removed my reluctance to do the work to better understand myself.

Being conscious of how my brain works differently has meant working more actively and effectively on ways to mitigate deficits and harness strengths. Medication helps, but so too does decluttering, using lists and seeking understanding for my learning differences.

If my experiences shared here resonate with you, consider exploring resources like the Unlocking ADHD community or consulting a mental health professional about your concerns. No matter how late in life, taking this step might provide the missing piece for why you experience the world differently.