Reflections at the Close of ADHD Awareness Month 2025. A Decade of Progress and a Wishlist for What's Next.

There’s a particular quiet that settles in as October wanes, the kind that invites a glance backwards as much as forwards. With the close of ADHD Awareness Month 2025, I find myself not only reflecting on the year just passed, but on the eleven years I’ve spent observing, learning, and quietly championing this cause. The landscape now bears little resemblance to the one I first encountered, a time when I was a young mother, adrift and largely unsupported.

What Went Well: The Victories Worth Celebrating

This year, I’ve watched awareness unfurl in ways that feel quietly transformative. The conversation has grown deeper, wider, and altogether more nuanced. A few moments, in particular, linger in my mind:

Girls and women are finally being seen.

For years, ADHD was cast in a single role, the restless boy, legs bouncing, unable to stay put. Yet this year, a broader understanding has begun to take root. We’re finally seeing the quiet daydreamers, the girls who camouflage their struggles with perfectionism, the ones labelled 'chatty' or 'emotional' rather than recognised for what they are. Children navigating a different neurodevelopmental landscape.

Late diagnosis in women is no longer seen as an anomaly.

There’s a dawning realisation that many women have spent decades believing themselves simply disorganised or overly sensitive, only to discover, sometimes in their thirties, forties, or well beyond, that ADHD has been the quiet thread running through their lives. These stories of late-found clarity are, at last, entering the mainstream, offering a kind of gentle validation to those who have long felt out of step or somehow broken.

The cascade effect of diagnosis is being acknowledged.

More families are beginning to notice a familiar pattern. A child’s diagnosis quietly unlocks a mirror for a parent, who suddenly recognises their own story in the details. The genetic thread is now common knowledge, and adult diagnoses, prompted by a child’s assessment, are steadily rising. This ripple is bringing support not just to individuals, but to whole families.

ADHD's "best besties" are getting their due.

It’s now spoken aloud: ADHD rarely arrives by itself. Dyslexia, autism, anxiety, depression, these companions are being recognised, not overlooked. We’re moving away from tidy boxes and towards a more honest understanding that neurodivergence often comes as a bundle, and that support must consider the whole person, not just a single label.

These shifts mark real progress. They promise earlier help, better support, and perhaps most importantly, a little less shame and confusion for those who have spent years suffering quietly.

The Wishlist: What We Still Need

Still, as I take stock of how far we’ve travelled, I can’t help but notice the distance yet to go. Gaps remain in understanding, in systems, in the scaffolding meant to hold us up. So, here’s what I find myself wishing for as we look to the future of ADHD awareness and care:

1. A Name That Actually Reflects the Reality

The acronym itself deserves a moment’s pause. Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder—four words that barely skim the surface of lived experience. If I could wave a wand, I’d wish for a name with more clarity: it’s not so much a deficit of attention as a dysregulation of it. Some of us can lose ourselves for hours in what fascinates us, yet struggle to muster focus for anything else. And hyperactivity is hardly universal, especially for those whose challenges are quieter, more internal.

At its heart, we’re talking about an executive function disorder—one that shapes working memory, emotional regulation, time perception, impulse control, task initiation, and more besides. The current name keeps old misunderstandings alive, making it all too easy for others to dismiss the condition as a matter of willpower or effort.

We need a name that reflects the neurological reality and helps people see what they’re truly navigating.

2. Milestone Tracking and Benchmarking for Young Children

When a child is first diagnosed, parents are often handed a label and perhaps a prescription, but seldom a map. We need standardised ways to track developmental milestones for children with ADHD. Benchmarks that help families and clinicians discern what progress looks like, what’s typical for this path, and when extra support might be needed.

This isn’t about measuring children against neurotypical yardsticks and finding them wanting. It’s about setting realistic, ADHD-informed expectations—ones that allow families to celebrate true progress and notice where extra scaffolding is needed, without the constant worry of 'falling behind' or the hollow comfort that they’ll simply grow out of it.

3. Immediate Accommodations and Intervention Protocols

The chasm between diagnosis and support remains stubbornly wide. Families wait months for therapy, struggle to find professionals who truly understand ADHD, and navigate school systems that may or may not offer the right accommodations.

We need standardised protocols that begin the moment a diagnosis is made. Clear recommendations for accommodations across settings—school, home, and social. Evidence-based interventions that can start straight away, and care coordination that doesn’t turn parents into reluctant case managers.

A diagnosis ought to signal the beginning of support, not the start of a long and winding search for it.

4. Recognition of Hormonal Impacts

This one sits close to home. The way menstrual cycles, pregnancy, postpartum, perimenopause, and menopause shape ADHD symptoms in women is still spoken of in hushed tones, if at all. Many find their symptoms intensify at certain points in the cycle or during hormonal shifts, yet this connection is rarely woven into treatment plans.

We need research, clinical awareness, and treatment protocols that account for these hormonal fluctuations. Women deserve to understand why their coping strategies might work one week and fail completely the next.

5. Transition Support from Paediatric to Adult Care

There’s a kind of cliff-edge awaiting many young adults with ADHD as they leave paediatric care behind. The scaffolding of childhood, school accommodations, parental oversight, and specialist support—often vanishes just as executive function demands begin to climb.

We need formal transition protocols,  handovers from paediatric to adult providers, bridging services that help young adults cultivate self-advocacy and self-management, and continued support during those pivotal early adult years.

6. Workplace Accommodations as Standard Practice

Educational accommodations for ADHD are, at last, becoming more common, but the workplace is still playing catch-up. Many adults don’t realise they can ask for support, aren’t sure what to request, or worry about the shadow of stigma.

We need clear guidance for employers, standardised options for accommodations, and a cultural shift that makes it ordinary to ask for flexible deadlines, quiet spaces, or written instructions. ADHD doesn’t vanish at graduation; adults, too, need support.

7. Moving Beyond the "Superpower" versus "Deficit" Binary

I see the good intentions behind calling ADHD a 'superpower', but the story is more complicated. Yes, there’s creativity, innovation, a knack for seeing what others might miss. But there are also real struggles that can’t be wished away by positive thinking.

We need room for a more nuanced conversation. ADHD is a neurodevelopmental difference that brings both genuine challenges and real strengths. Those living with it deserve both acknowledgement of their struggles and celebration of their gifts—never one at the expense of the other.

 

Looking Forward

Eleven years of watching and listening have taught me that progress is possible, but seldom tidy. We move forward, then sideways, sometimes back, then forward again. Still, the direction is unmistakable. We know more than we did in 2014, we support more wisely, diagnose more accurately, and make more room for the many ways ADHD can be lived.

My hope for the next eleven years is simple - that these Wishlist items become the norm, not the exception. That a child diagnosed in 2036 is met with immediate, thoughtful support.

That a woman searching for answers in her forties finds professionals who understand late diagnosis and hormonal tides.

That workplaces weave flexibility into their fabric as a matter of course. That the name itself finally matches the reality.

Progress, I’ve learned, is rarely accidental. It happens because parents advocate for their children, adults push for support at work, researchers ask better questions, clinicians listen more closely, and all of us in the ADHD community keep talking, keep sharing, and keep asking for better.

As ADHD Awareness Month 2025 draws to a close, I’m grateful for the ground we’ve covered—and quietly energised by all that remains ahead.

Here’s to the next chapter—of awareness, understanding, and support.