“When people with ADHD are able to get the treatment that they need as soon as they’re diagnosed as children, it gives them the best chance to realize their full potential.” These were the words that hit me like a ton of bricks one day as my preceptor was talking about his experiences treating adult patients with ADHD. I was soaking up every bit of information as he was teaching us about ADHD, but when he closed the impromptu teaching session between patients with these words, it was all I could think about as he started his visit with his next patient. As a 36-year-old woman diagnosed with ADHD a month prior, I couldn’t help but be reminded that things could have been vastly different had I been told my brain worked differently.

I knew I had my “quirks” when it came to how I study, but I became increasingly frustrated when I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t retain as much information for all the work I had put in during first year of medical school. Having an exam every two weeks was a grueling schedule, but I never felt like the material was difficult enough to grasp. Yet it felt like it was slipping through my fingers when I studied, and I couldn’t understand what was happening since this had never been an issue before despite my long years as a student. But with OSCEs petrifying me to the point of making me robotic during my interaction with the standardized patient, I had written it off as anxiety. That’s when I first sought out help from a VA psychiatrist. Putting a name to the thing that troubled me made me hopeful I would be able to better concentrate and thrive the rest of my second year once anxiety was under control. But even after the anxiety was well-controlled, I continued to have issues with concentration. In fact, it made other executive dysfunctions more apparent; the lack of anxiety no longer served to counterbalance and drive me to action. That was when a clinician suggested I be evaluated for ADHD. It took months through the VA to arrange the neuropsychology testing as well as evaluation by a psychiatrist and for me to finally be medicated. Until that moment, I didn’t think that there was something I had lost in all these years of not being diagnosed.

The more things were explained, the more grief I had to handle. The blow was hardest when I heard something that validated that grief when I least expected it. I wouldn’t have had to figure out how to study in the middle of preparing to take a board exam. It’s hard not to think about how my SATs and MCATs would have been a completely different experience with accommodations. How much less self-criticism I would have internalized over the years, knowing my brain works differently and I just needed to find a different way. But I was also reminded of all the times my neurodivergence has helped me throughout the journey. Things that are commonly described as “bad” traits of ADHD have helped me be an adaptable and high-functioning individual. I don’t know if I would have made the decision to join the Navy so matter-of-factly had I not had “issues” with impulse control combined with the need to escape stagnation. The need to be occupied with something has made me a self-starter. And needing to be aware of all of my environment made me a person who could analyze and read situations well and helped me become a better team player. And when physical demands of the Navy weren’t enough, I sought mental stimulation by taking college courses while in senior year of high school and while in the Navy, even in the middle of deployment while floating in the middle of the ocean, all because I craved mental stimulation, not because I wanted the credits.

The more I looked into ADHD, I realized my experience is a different but not uncommon one, particularly for women. Given that 55.9 percent of adults with ADHD receive their diagnosis at age 18 or older, substantial diagnostic delay is common. The average age of diagnosis for women is 37, who are less likely to be diagnosed in childhood than men, often due to subtler, inattentive presentations and gender bias in diagnostic criteria. And being misdiagnosed for various medical conditions isn’t an uncommon event for many, especially women. This makes it not just an ADHD experience, but a human experience. It means even though we’ve had different experiences, at the end of the day, conclusions drawn or lessons learned often overlap, which makes me more compassionate towards others. While I may still grieve the possibilities lost to a late diagnosis, I recognize the unintended gifts that my detours and failures have been. They stripped away the protective layers of survival mode and gave me the time to become more self-aware. This clarity will be the foundation of my practice. It means I don’t just treat symptoms; I recognize the silent, lifelong struggle behind them. I can be an acutely empathetic advocate, driven by the knowledge that every patient deserves to be seen, understood, and supported to finally find their own path to thriving.

Suji Choi is a medical student.