October is ADHD awareness month. This year ADHD New Zealand wants to share the stories of New Zealanders with ADHD, who have found careers and passions that work for them. It’s not an easy road when your neurons spark in a different way and we hope these stories can inspire those with ADHD, and show others the amazing things we can do. 

ADHD New Zealand recieves no government funding for our operations - we exist thanks to the support of our incredible community. If you are able, please consider donating to help us continue our mahi (work.) 

Finding peace through te ao Māori 

Content warning: This article deals with substance abuse and addiction. Support links are available at the bottom of this page. 

Iain believes his neurodivergence was almost picked up when he was at school, but his high achievement led to him slipping through the cracks. 

“I came within a whisker of getting picked up when I was 7 or 8 years old,” he said. It was at that point he began to realise he saw the world in a different way from others. 

“At school when they asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said I wanted to be wise like my grandad. They told me I didn’t understand the question, but I don’t think they understood my answer. Grandad was very wise, and I wanted to be like him. His books are my taonga (treasure),” he said. 

“I was the disappearing into the library type of neurodivergent. I played Dungeons and Dragons - the original version with the red book.” 

Making wetsuits at the beach 

At high school Iain developed an interest in architecture, through his skills in maths and technical drawing. He wanted to leave school at 6th form (year 12) to study drafting at Polytechnic, but his mother vetoed the plan, wanting him to stay and finish school. 

Iain however, had different ideas. “I said 'stuff that, I’m not going back. I’m taking my van to the beach, and I’m going to make wetsuits in Otaki,' and I did that for a couple of years.” 

Buzzing at the Beehive 

Like many people with ADHD, Iain has a colourful career history. After moving on from selling wetsuits, he worked in nightclubs, hospitality, advertising, sales, and as a body modification artist, before finding himself at the Beehive, behind the bar. 

Iain landed a job working at Bellamys, the parliamentary caterers, giving him a bird’s eye view of the goings on at parliament. It was during the period when Jim Bolger was prime minister, the Ngāi Tahu settlements were happening, and Winston Peters was buying a pack of Winfield Blues every day. He led front of house teams for state functions held for Nelson Mandela, the Sultan of Brunei and Queen Elizabeth II. 

Iain worked on the floor most frequented by journalists and press secretaries. “I would open the bar at 11am, set up the TV for the midday news, and the journos and press secretaries would come in and discuss the spin they'd be putting on the six o’clock news. I was an autistic fly on the wall.”

An alcoholic haze 

In 2007 Iain got married in an alcoholic haze. “She proposed,” he said. Like many with undiagnosed neurodivergence, he’d begun self-medicating with alcohol, and it was starting to catch up with him. 

He was married and earning good money working with a car sales franchise, but it was slipping through his fingers. “I was earning a six-figure income and spending most of it on booze and women - the rest I just wasted,” he said. 

You don’t take a winning horse off the track 

The time that followed was a blur of different jobs and near misses. Advertising was a career Iain excelled at during this time. “I was good at selling advertising. My mother always said I had the gift of the gab. 

“Working in sales is easy because it’s a process. You build a rapport, you ask qualifying questions, there’s a guide. I brought in huge figures. The only things that let me down were the days off and the meltdowns.”  

Iain’s success meant, despite those things, he managed to hold on to the job. “They look the other way when you are good at what you do in that area. You don’t take a winning horse off the track.”

I knew I was going to die

Iain lost his licence, but not before getting signed off to drive trucks. “I sat my class four licence after drinking a bottle of Scrumpy.” When he was at his worst, he was drinking a litre of vodka a day. “Then 48 hours later I would be in a coma for 18 hours.” 

By 2013 Iain wasn’t functioning at all. “I would need about eight standard drinks just to steady myself, and then the vodka, and hip flasks. It was horrible, I was vomiting every morning. I knew I was going to be in a box in the next six months if I didn’t do something about it. I knew I was going to die.” 

Fighting for rehabilitation  

This was a turning point for Iain. Sadly, his wife had similar struggles with alcohol, and their relationship was very co-dependent as far as drinking was concerned, he said. He knew he needed to go away to get sober, and she agreed to stay behind and do the same. 

Because of high demand and lack of places, Iain had to fight to get into a rehabilitation centre. “I called service after service and kept getting turned away. I had to drink four bourbon and cokes to be able to pick up the phone.”  Eventually he connected with the Salvation Army Bridge Programme in Newtown. 

"I woke to the gibbons, and I got sober”

If it wasn’t for the Bridge Programme, Iain believes he wouldn’t be here right now. “They literally saved my life. I learned to understand things that weren’t my fault, even though everyone seemed to be blaming me. I’ve never been more determined in my entire life.” 

The programme’s housing was near Wellington Zoo and Iain’s days began with the sound of wildlife. “I woke up to the gibbons… and I got sober,” he said. 

Although it was an eight-week programme, Iain knew it was working early on in the piece. “By the fifth week I knew I had cracked it, and after seven weeks they let me go early.” Unfortunately, his wife hadn’t managed to get sober on the outside, and he realised they couldn’t live together anymore. 

Finding focus through cycling 

Rehab had helped Iain accept the ebbs and flows of life. “The yin and yang. It gave me the ability to give myself some grace. and love, and time to rest. I was so hard on myself.”  

It also gave him the space to pursue a new passion – cycling. In 2018 Iain started riding a bike to improve his physical and mental health. This very quickly grew into a new hyperfocus for him (though he wasn’t aware that’s what it was at the time).

“By 2020 I had ridden 12.5 thousand kilometres on a pushbike, which shows what a hyperfocus of mine it was. By 2023 I had ridden more than 43,000km (the equivalent distance to riding around the equator) and was competitively road and track racing at Masters/age group level,” he said.  

The business of biking 

At the end of 2023 cycling became more than a hobby. Iain had moved to Whanganui with his then partner, and launched a retail cycling parts and accessories website - cyclingclearance.co.nz. 

Because this was his first business, he signed up for full-time study through Te Wānanga Aotearoa in Whanganui, achieving a Certificate of Small Business. 

“I was happy fixing people’s bikes and doing something good for the community. I thought, ‘I’m on minimum wage, but I’m happy.’”

The business is still running, and Iain works on it as other mahi, and energy, allows. “I’m really looking forward to having more time to grow it into it’s potential,” he said.  

I’m just lazy, aren’t I? 

It was supporting his former partner through a difficult time that led Iain to investigate whether he might be neurodivergent. Sadly, the relationship deteriorated to the extent he was forced to leave their shared home. “I still have so much empathy for her,” he said. 

This led Iain to look at his own behaviours and experiences though a different lens, and he began to suspect he might be neurodivergent. Like many, he second-guessed himself, which wasn’t helped by those close to him being resistant to the idea. “I started to think, I’m just lazy, aren’t I?” 

Luckily his GP was more receptive and supported him through the diagnosis process. “It was so validating. My counsellor told me she’d never had a patient who was so determined to get well.” 

The signs were there

As Iain learned more about ADHD, he realised the signs had been there all along. “Task paralysis, smashing caffeine to relax, it was all there.” 

He recognised the Dunning-Kruger effect (where highly competent people underestimate their abilities, while others overestimate their knowledge and skills) at play through his school and working life. 

“I was declared gifted at school. I knew I had high intelligence, but I couldn’t use it, it was too scattered. There was so much that interested me, but I couldn’t pick one thing."

“I watched a video, I think it might have been an ADHD New Zealand one, that described ADHD as ‘being characterised by good intentions, followed by bad outcomes,’ and that really resonated,” he said. 

When he began talking about ADHD on social media, it wasn’t a surprise for some. “I had a close friend say, ‘I thought you knew.’” An autism diagnosis followed soon after. 

In the whānau 

Through understanding his own neurodivergence, Iain now realises it’s a condition other family members, including his mother, have. “Mum had it tough," he said. He suspects his father, who has “an enormous model train collection,” may be on the autism spectrum as well.

Learning this has given him more clarity and compassion for them. “I can see their struggles and what they are going through.” 

When stimulants do the opposite 

Alcohol is one way people self-medicate to their detriment, and Iain believes drugs are another. For people with ADHD, stimulants often have the opposite of their intended effect. Coffee and energy drinks can have a calming effect, and so do illegal stimulants. 

“I believe undiagnosed neurodivergence is the big part of the meth epidemic in this country. It gives people relief, but when they take more than a therapeutic dose, it pushes things too far.” He suspects a large proportion of New Zealand’s prison population have undiagnosed neurodivergence.

Iain sees this in hindsight with his own experience with stimulants in the 2000s. The fact they helped him therapeutically was actually what put him off experimenting further. “I loved the clarity it brought me and thought, ‘I can see how people get addicted to this,’ which put me off trying too much more."

Creative offset 

Understanding the root of his struggles unleashed a new creative passion for Iain – whakairo (Māori carving) - and gave him a crash course in the ups and downs of neurodivergence. 

“For every downside there’s an offset in the creative space,” he said. “I can create things, and I’m good at problem solving, but hell, I’d like it to be easy to get up in the morning and brush my teeth!” 

“Buckle up, we’re going for a ride!” 

The journey towards Iain’s latest creative venture began with a garden path. 

He was building a path for his then partner’s garden out of river stone, when something caught his eye. “I was looking at the stones and thought, ‘ooh, a little green one! I wonder if she would like it if I polished it up?' It was literal autistic pebbling.” 

That little stone became his first Hei Matau (fishhook), and everyone got them that Christmas. Following that, he began producing toki (traditional adze-shaped tools) at a rate that made him realise this was going to be a ‘thing.’ 

“I went full bore. Autistic me said ‘ooh, a new special interest!’, ADHD me said ‘buckle up, we’re going for a ride!” 

Be like Tiki

Iain is mostly a self-taught carver but has had the support of “two amazing mentors.” The knowledge he has gained of tikanga (Māori customs and values), and te ao Māori (the interconnection between humans and the environment), has played a big part in supporting his recovery. 

Meditation is something Iain uses to process his emotions, but it was weaving te ao knowledge in that really made it stick. “I would tell myself – be like Tiki.” 

Iain sees similarities between Tiki (a mythical Māori ancestor carved in human form, representing the connection between people, their ancestors and the spiritual world) and Buddha. “Both sit cross-legged with their palms in their lap, and Tiki is often seen with a horn shape where the pineal gland would be. Tiki has got a third eye. 

“Bringing that pūrākau (narrative) into meditation, gave me the calming space I need,” he said.  

The birth of Torukākā

Iain realised this latest creative ride was leading somewhere special, and that his new business needed a name. In the end it was a feathered friend who came to his aid.

Iain lives with three budgies, Pipsqueak, Fidget and Gadget - it was Pipsqueak who gifted him the name – Torukākā (three parrots). 

 “I was setting up my social media, thinking ‘what do I call this thing?’ when Pip flew over and just looked at me. I thought, ‘okay, we’re calling it that then.’”

Iain has set up a Facebook page for Torukākā and plans to launch a website for the business. 

ADHD whakaaro

Iain’s diagnosis, and access to stimulant medication, has changed his life, and he strongly encourages whakaaro (thinking), and kōrero (discussion), around ADHD. 

With an estimated 5 percent of New Zealanders with the condition, and many undiagnosed, he believes this is particularly important. He hopes taking part in this series will encourage people to seek diagnosis, and help those with neurodivergent people in their lives to understand them better. 

You can find Iain’s whakairo here: Torukākā (facebook.com) and his cycling mahi at cyclingclearance.co.nz 

Need support?

If any of the issues raised in this article are impacting you, a list of specialist health services and resources for mental health and addiction are available here: Help with mental health and addiction (govt.nz)

Supporting ADHD New Zealand

ADHD New Zealand is a non-profit organisation committed to supporting those living with ADHD and their whānau, through practical information and support. We are made up of, and are here because of, members of the neurodivergent community. Every course, every support group, and every piece of advocacy, is made possible by the generosity of our donors, and we are so grateful.

If you would like to contribute to our ADHD Awareness Month appeal (or on any month of the year) visit our donation page.