‘My diagnosis made me a high-flyer’
As adult cases soar, Sandra Scott says discovering she had the condition in her 40s only spurred her on to greater business success
I was no stranger to ADHD when I first realised the condition might, in fact, affect me. I was in my early 40s and working at a school for children with social, emotional and mental health needs, almost all of whom were on medication for their behavioural symptoms. In the middle of a Spanish lesson, a pupil said something that made me laugh. We were dancing around the classroom when he looked at me and said: “Mrs Scott, you’re just like us – you’ve got ADHD, too.”
Incredulous, I returned his look and said, “No I haven’t”, then let the thought lie. Soon after, the headteacher gave me a book to read about girls with ADHD to help me understand the problems I was facing with one pupil. I couldn’t believe what I was reading: with the turn of every page, I thought: “That’s me…”
So began the long road to being diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) as an adult, aged 44.
This week, the number of prescriptions for ADHD medication was reported to have doubled over the past decade. Like the 204,000 British adults who are now believed to suffer from the condition, I had spent my life feeling different.
Decades of misbehaviour, forgetfulness and unending energy finally made sense when the doctor told me I have ADHD, hypermobility and dyscalculia (the numerical equivalent of dyslexia). After the initial shock, I felt empowered. No more would I castigate myself for tidying too vigorously or missing an appointment. I could accept myself for who I was: different, but for a reason.
ADHD has made me a talented and driven person, but also landed me in a fair amount of trouble. As a child, it had more of the latter effect. The prevailing memories I have of my strict Catholic primary school are of the punishments teachers doled out. From the age of eight, I would be sent to the corner of the classroom, having been slapped around, three or four times a week.
If anyone was up to mischief, I would normally be involved – and always be caught. I was outspoken and often said the wrong thing, offending people even if I didn’t mean to. And when I zoned out in lessons, I’d be hit. Maths was always a particularly bad lesson.
It was the Seventies and the label for ADHD, let alone widespread understanding of its symptoms, was a still a decade away. Rather than addressing my behavioural problems, the teachers wrote me off as the product of a broken home. After my parents divorced, my mum brought me up on her own. For all of the grief I gave her, she did a brilliant job. She only had to blink to find I had done something to cause trouble.
Once, we were about go to the shops and I was standing ready by the door when Mum popped upstairs to get her coat. On her descent, I was gone. To where? The backyard with a pot of Polyfilla that I was swiftly pouring down the drain in an attempt to fill it.
On another occasion, Mum asked me to dust the mantelpiece. Fed up with having to move all of her Wedgwood ornaments out of the way every time, I decided to take action. I glued the antiques to the surface so I could whizz around them unimpeded. To me, it was a perfectly logical timesaver; I actually thought I was being helpful.
As an only child, I cut my own path at school. I spent my teenage years avoiding classes at a local grammar school, only showing up on the days that I had French and Spanish. I finished with nine O-levels (three with a U grade) and a smattering of poor A-levels. But I wasn’t an unmotivated dropout.
In addition to my passion for languages, I loved working, which is common for people like me with ADHD, who are high functioning and need to fill their time.
Throughout my adult life, I have thrown myself into work, starting with a weekend retail job in my teens. I’ve worked as an au pair, air stewardess, interpreter, salesperson for British Gas, teacher and entrepreneur. In addition, I have taken endless adult learning courses, including a French, Spanish and Italian degree when I was 32, and GCSE maths at the age of 38. When he diagnosed me with ADHD, my doctor said: “If you’d been put on medication, you could have a PHD by now.”
ADHD has made me a successful person. Now, aged 50, I run my own business while holding down a part-time job and volunteering as an ambassador for the ADHD Foundation. That’s not to say ADHD doesn’t still cause me problems. I miss appointments, make promises that slip, forget to pay the bills and try to juggle too many tasks at once. As an example, one of my biggest battles is with parking tickets. I lose track of time and, before I know it, there’s another garish yellow sticker on the car. Although I have been known to leave washing in the machine, my husband hasn’t yet taken over the day-to-day running of our house. Absolutely not. But he is supportive in his own way and has put up with a lot over the years.
One symptom of ADHD in adults is the inability to hold down relationships, making people with the condition more likely to get divorced. This isn’t something I have struggled with. I have been happily married for 24 years. We also have a son, aged 20, who doesn’t have ADHD, despite it being a hereditary condition.
I don’t take medication for my ADHD. After my diagnosis, I tried a methylphenidate prescription and it was amazing. My mind was focused and all the extraneous noise I normally can’t block out was silenced. But the medication gave me other problems, such as being tearful, and I decided it wasn’t worth it. I’ve now spent so many years medication free, that I know how to manage.
There’s a misconception that people grow out of ADHD. That’s definitely not the case. But you find ways to cope. I write myself to-do lists and try to focus on one task at a time.
On a personal development course I took recently, I also learnt not to worry about what other people think: they should accept me for who I am. That hasn’t always been the case.
Having ADHD has been extremely positive for me. It has made me a high-flyer, and I will carry on using it to my advantage. My friends ask me how I can wake up at 5am, go to a breakfast meeting, work all day and then teach a class in the evening. My response? I’m lucky – and I enjoy it.
‘I could accept myself for who I was: different, but for a reason’