Saying I Have a Disability Feels Disingenuous

A recent ADHD diagnosis makes it feel like I’m claiming a hardship I don’t have

I have been applying to jobs and internships in the summer of 2024, in anticipation of the full-time job transition I would have after I graduate law school. On all of the questionnaires, especially those from law firms, there are the standard questions about race, gender, and sexuality, mostly, I gather, in an effort to promote diversity within the law firm.

But then there’s a question that makes me feel really disingenuous answering: whether you have a disability or not. For the vast majority of my life, the answer would have been a firm no. I had not had any formal diagnosis — until last year.

Last year, however, I was diagnosed with ADHD. At the time, I did have my doubts about whether the diagnosis was legit or not. I wondered whether my answers skewed the questionnaire and whether I was just pathologizing normal human behaviors in an era dominated by screens and social media. I was put on a medication called Strattera, an NSRI, but it didn’t work for me (although it does wonders for a lot more people), and I stopped taking it and am not medicated at all for my pretty mild ADHD diagnosis.

While answering these questionnaires, I often had to Google “is ADHD a disability?”, even though I edit a mental health publication and very well know it is. The answer is yes — the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 considers ADHD a disability and requires employers to provide reasonable accommodations for people with ADHD.

However, it felt disingenuous because I never felt like I was that disabled or that in need of accommodations. I do very well on extremely rigorous, time-crunch exams and seem to thrive even more under time pressure than I do when given as much time in the world to complete a task. I have performed reasonably well academically and in my career despite my diagnosis.

It seems that, because of my ADHD, I need less time instead of more and need some sort of real-world consequences and incentives to be able to get things done — if there isn’t the constant pressure of severe repercussions on my career if I don’t facilitate an IEP meeting well or get my team to meet all the necessary deadlines required by federal and state laws and regulations, for example, then I probably wouldn’t work as fast or be as productive.

As a special education teacher, I also have seen kids with a lot more severe ADHD or autism really need the assistance of substantial accommodations and modifications to succeed in the classroom. I have seen students with ADHD not be able to focus for more than a couple minutes at a time and be distracted by items I previously didn’t think were distractions, like whiteout or staplers. I see what it’s like for ADHD to be so severe someone can’t stay in a seat for more than five minutes and need to constantly be engaged in very dynamic ways.

I say this because I suspect other people with mild depression or mild ADHD or mild PTSD might feel the same way: we know it’s not right to necessarily compare, but we do compare because of the first-hand knowledge that other people have it a lot worse and need a lot more help.

That doesn’t necessarily deny someone like me the reality of having my life impacted by ADHD: I can make a lot of mistakes because I work too fast, be restless, and need to move from task to task when under-focused but be hyper-fixated on a given goal or assignment if I’m super passionate about it. I don’t doubt my quality of life would have improved substantially had it been diagnosed sooner. It’s probably a reason why I always seem to take on new tasks and need to have a dynamic, thrill-seeking kind of day every day.

I think with a new diagnosis, as well, it will take some time to get used to checking the ‘yes” box for disability. In the case of ADHD, there have been exploding diagnoses over the course of the past two decades. A lot of this has been the result of underdiagnosing inattentive ADHD that girls show more than boys, but environmental factors like social media and the pandemic are also playing a factor.

The disingenuous part boils down to it feeling like I’m claiming a hardship I don’t have. Objectively, that might not be true as I have simply learned to live with my restlessness, hyperactivity, short attention span, and hyperfocus and underfocus in certain situations over the last 26 years. Just because my own disability doesn’t require accommodations or medications doesn’t invalidate it.

Maybe it’s the internalized ableism I’ve absorbed from peers or societal narratives that is dismissive of the impact of my ADHD on my ability to perform, since I, like many people, want to be treated the same and held to the same standards as everyone else.

In time, checking the “yes” box to “disability” will feel less disingenuous and more legit. I have come to accept that my brain does work differently and I know how to adapt it to present-day situations.

For now, it’s okay for it to feel disingenuous because it’s something I’m not used to. But everyone has their own journey.