5 Misconceptions About ADHD & Therapy
- markandrewstouffer
- Oct 9
- 2 min read
Updated: Oct 10

The Story:
When "Alex" (fictionalized story) first came to counselling, they described feeling like they were constantly running a race everyone else found easy. With a recent ADHD and Autism diagnosis in their late 30s, they had a label but not a map. Decades of masking their true self had led to profound burnout, anxiety, and a feeling of being an imposter in their own life.
Sessions 1-2: Building a Foundation of Trust Our initial sessions weren't about "fixing" anything. They were about creating a space where Alex could finally stop performing. We explored their life story, but this time through a neurodivergent lens. We didn't just look at what happened, but why certain social situations felt draining or why specific work tasks seemed impossible. This was the first step: validating that their experiences were real and rooted in their neurology.
Sessions 3-4: The "Aha" Moments We began connecting the dots. The "laziness" they were criticized for in school was actually executive dysfunction. The "shyness" was a response to sensory overload and social processing differences. Each connection was a revelation, replacing years of self-criticism with understanding. We called these "unmasking moments"—instances where the true reason for a struggle came to light, dissolving shame.
Sessions 5-6: From Understanding to Strategy With clarity came empowerment. Alex realized the strategies that worked for their neurotypical colleagues were never going to work for them—and that was okay. We shifted focus to building a personalized toolkit. This included everything from using noise-canceling headphones to block sensory input at the office, to creating visual schedules for managing projects, to scripting difficult conversations to reduce social anxiety.
Sessions 7-8: Integrating the Authentic Self In our final sessions, Alex described a newfound sense of "cohesion." The different, often conflicting, parts of their life finally started to make sense. They had learned not just to cope with their neurodivergence, but to work with it. They had started advocating for their needs at work and found a new, more authentic way of connecting with their loved ones. The race wasn't over, but for the first time, they felt like they were running on their own track, at their own pace.
Alex's journey shows that clarity isn't about finding a cure; it's about finding yourself. A neuro-affirming approach provides the map that allows that discovery to happen.
Could a deeper understanding of your own neurology be the key to your clarity?




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