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. 

We're sliding into spooky season with something a bit different this time. Award-winning Deaf/disabled author, essayist, artist and poet Tee (T.L.) Wood shares their thoughts on the, at times polarising, claim that ADHD can be a superpower. Tee writes ‘quiet horror’ and weird, unsettling, speculative fiction, while their art mixes elements of the natural world with the supernatural. 

Not a super-power but a gift: My life with ADHD 

by Tee (T.L.) Wood

I’m likely to upset a few folks with this piece. It’s not intentional, but it is inevitable, given that the subject is so polarising. I apologise in advance and hope you will read this with an open mind, and an understanding that I write from a place of lived experience. I’d also like to acknowledge that every single person, even if they have the same diagnosis, will experience it very differently. 

There have been a lot of articles recently, particularly on social media and other popular blog sites, about how ADHD is a “super-power.” Some people have embraced this whole-heartedly, others, are understandably upset about it. I believe a lot of that upset comes from the toxic positivity stemming from such claims.

Being talented in the arts is not a fair trade for crippling depression 

People with ADHD are often more prone to mental health struggles, feel like failures in many areas of their lives, and question if people even like them at times.

That’s not even touching on: rejection sensitivity issues, executive disfunction, emotional dysregulation and exhaustion, sleep disorders, anxiety, difficulty completing even the supposedly simplest of tasks, poor judgment and/or engaging in risky behaviours, problems with managing money (RIP my bank balance but those craft supplies are just too tempting) … and so on, and on.

I speak from experience when I say being talented in the arts is not a fair trade for also suffering from crippling depression and C-PTSD.

Cosplaying as a functional and productive human  

I was officially diagnosed with ADHD at age 45 in February 2025 after an arduous amount of time wondering what the heck was wrong with me and why I suddenly couldn’t seem to function as a normal human being.

I quit my (very good) job, because I simply couldn’t cope with it. I sought support for my mental health (PTSD after a medical injury), but the service I received ended up being the opposite of supporting and almost broke me completely.

All the usual systems and strategies which I had relied on for years simply didn’t work anymore—I could write a separate piece about all the tips and hacks I use to 'cosplay as a functional and productive human'.

I knew I was in perimenopause and assumed most of my physical symptoms were due to that. That didn’t explain why some days I felt like I was frozen to the sofa unable to start work, and why filling in forms and replying to emails regularly brought me to tears. 

“For almost 90 minutes the only thoughts that went through my head were: Oh, shit. This is me. I have ADHD too!”

I had self-diagnosed as autistic almost six years prior, but I didn’t see the need for an official one. ADHD hadn’t even occurred to me until my eldest went through the public system for diagnosis and I sat with him in during the assessment. For almost 90 minutes the only thoughts that went through my head were: Oh, shit. This is me. I have ADHD too!

How many other people had recognised this in me before I did?

I decided to go and see my GP, a truly lovely woman who is incredibly patient with me and wonderful to talk to, and told her, “I know this is going to sound a bit weird, but I think I have ADHD.” She, bless her, responded with a laugh and replied, “most probably.” I think I felt a little bit cheated in that moment, like, why hadn’t she mentioned this to me before? Which also led me to wonder; how many other people had recognised this in me before I did?

I filled in the requisite assessment forms and scored (unsurprisingly) very high. After my disastrous experience with the public health system, I decided to approach Beehyve (a private online service for diagnosing and supporting ADHD) for a diagnosis. It was quick and almost too easy, although to be fair, there really wasn’t any doubt. I tried medication and was amazed at how well it worked: not just specifically for ADHD, but my depression and anxiety improved drastically within weeks. It was amazing! I was human again! I was cured! 

ADHD didn’t define me so much as influence me 

Yeah, nah. It doesn’t really work like that.  

What it did do was give me an essential piece of the puzzle I was missing. A tool to better understand who I was and why I behaved the way I did. Having better mental health gave me the energy and drive to be more proactive about my health overall. I was able to focus more on things that were both enriching and stabilising for me. Art, writing and photography were the main ones.

“I felt more able to sense check myself and recognise when I was overloaded, overstimulated, or otherwise emotionally dysregulated.”

I also found a therapist who introduced me to Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy which looks at how every individual is made up of their Core and other Parts. I felt like I’d been accessing some of those Parts all my life, and knowing what they were, naming them, was incredibly powerful for me.

I felt more able to sense check myself and recognise when I was overloaded, overstimulated, or otherwise emotionally dysregulated. I could name those parts that weren’t bad (there are no bad parts in IFS) but didn’t always support me to be my best self. Knowing that ADHD was a part of me as well, but that it didn’t define me so much as influence me, became a crucial part of feeling more grounded and happier with the person I am.

A change in creative tone 

My art and writing took a bit of a different tone after my diagnosis. I am happy to report that medication did not affect my creativity at all, other than to make me more productive, and actually complete projects I’d started.

“I am happy to report that medication did not affect my creativity at all, other than to make me more productive.” 

I’d already been using art to help me work through my PTSD symptoms (e.g. when I lost all my teeth I made myself a set of custom vampire-fang dentures!) but I was suddenly able to see how long I’d been writing about feeling “othered” and “different” for many years, without knowing why it was such a prevalent theme for me. 

As I write mostly speculative fiction and horror, I’d assumed those themes were simply part of the genre, but seeing how personal it was, and understanding that I’d been using my art to process my emotions since my teens, was quite eye-opening. They do say, “write what you know,” I suppose. (For those interested, I recommend reading my award-nominated collections, SEEDS and Reflections https://linktr.ee/Tlwood.

Empowered rather than othered 

As for that tone-shift, I realised that I was embracing all my quirks and special interests in the characters I wrote in a way that felt empowering and positive, rather than excluding or different. In my stories, disability, queerness and neurodiversity are all focal points to the plot, but rather than feeling othered, my characters use their differences to their advantage, albeit often with a supernatural or speculative twist. 

“I also highlight the reality of moving through a world that is not designed for them. And that world can be cruel.” 

You can be forgiven for assuming I write my characters in this way to give them “super-powers,” and while that thought is never too far from my mind, I also highlight the challenges they face, and the reality of moving through a world that is not designed for them. And that world can be cruel. 

A super-power should make you feel fabulous and unstoppable 

I do not believe ADHD is a super-power, because frankly, a super-power should make you feel fabulous and unstoppable. ADHD can often make you feel bloody miserable and out of control, but I do think it is a gift of sorts.

A gift that I perhaps did not ask for, am not quite sure what to do with, and some days would very much like to have the receipt so I could exchange it for something better, but a gift, nonetheless. 

“A gift that I am not quite sure what to do with, and some days would very much like to have the receipt so I could exchange it for something better, but a gift nonetheless.” 

Knowing that when I need to, I can fire up that 'super-powered' part of my brain, and do amazing, unusual and inspiring things, is liberating and exciting to me. It can help me problem-solve to find solutions for the difficult bits, and create strategies to overcome the boring. I know that I am both dopamine and deadline-driven, but I can carrot-and-stick myself into doing the dull 'adulting' tasks, and my medication supports me to do them well.

I don’t ‘people-please’ the way I used to 

I am now able to set better boundaries for myself. I don’t 'people-please' in the way I used to (to the detriment of my own mental and physical health). I can articulate what I need and the supports I know I am entitled to. I understand why some things that other people find easy are inexplicably challenging for me, but I don’t beat myself up about it anymore. 

“There are still days when all of these tools and strategies go out the window and I end up an emotional blob, but they are far fewer and shorter, because now I know why.”

I know that stimulants will make my noisy brain calmer, and I use them responsibly and appropriately now. I think (I hope!) I am a better wife, mother and friend now too, mostly due to finding more positive ways to communicate.

I am much more self-aware, can slow myself down, and respond rather than react. There are still days when all of these tools and strategies go out the window and I end up an emotional blob, but they are far fewer and shorter, because now I know why. I’m not asking, “what the heck is wrong with me?!” anymore.

I don’t want to ‘cure’ my ADHD any more than I want to cure my Deafness 

I don’t want to 'cure' my ADHD any more than I want to cure my Deafness (I’ve been Deaf since I was 7). Whilst they do sometimes make things more challenging for me, they are also an inextricable part of who I am. I identify as disabled, not because I feel like those conditions make me less able, but that the way society often treats me is disabling. 

“I personally feel like owning those conditions by understanding how they make me unique is very empowering.”

That’s frustrating, and I am very vocal about implementing change and awareness, but also, I personally feel like owning those conditions by understanding how they make me unique is very empowering.

For that reason alone, I can see why some people might want to refer to their ADHD as a super-power. “You do not define me,” it says. “I choose how to define myself. I can use these talents you think are quirky or weird and make something incredible out of them.”

For me, this gift of ADHD has given me a passionate insight into how I can be my best self, and continue to learn and grow, without feeling ashamed about not being 'normal'. Because while being 'normal' might seem easier, less chaotic and probably means a healthier bank balance, it really doesn’t seem quite so much fun.

"While being 'normal' might seem easier, less chaotic and probably means a healthier bank balance, it really doesn’t seem quite so much fun."

About Tee 

Tee (T. L.) Wood is a double award-winning Deaf / disabled author, essayist, artist and poet from Aotearoa New Zealand. 

A former English teacher and school library manager, Tee’s first published books were nonfiction guides for professional educators. After taking a career break to raise their two children, they returned to writing in 2018. A shortlisted nominee for six consecutive years, they have won two awards for nonfiction including a Sir Julius Vogel (2022) and Australian Shadows award (2021) and was also shortlisted for the inaugural Emeka Walter Dinjos Memorial Award for Disability in Speculative Fiction (2022).

When Tee is not making art or writing books, they like strong coffee, soft cats, and spending time by the sea. You can find them at www.tlwood.co.nz or follow them on Facebook and Instagram 

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. We get no government funding for our operations. 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.