Note 02: I didn’t expect to feel ashamed

Last night, my mom and I sat down to watch Channel 4’s controversial documentary ‘The Great ADHD Myth’.

I had tried to avoid reading too much beforehand. I wanted to watch it for myself and form my own response, although of course I had already seen some of the outcry online from individuals, charities and organisations who were concerned about the impact the programme could have.

As someone who was diagnosed with ADHD later in life, and as a woman who did not fit the obvious stereotype growing up, I hoped the documentary might reflect the diversity of people ADHD affects. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.

The programme centred on a young, hyperactive boy, someone many people might recognise as the more “typical” ADHD stereotype. And while his story matters, it felt like such a narrow lens through which to explore something so complex.

There are so many people whose ADHD does not look like the stereotype from the outside. Girls who are quiet, anxious, overwhelmed or masking. Adults who have spent years wondering why life feels harder than it seems to for everyone else. People who are not bouncing off the walls, but are still struggling internally every single day - were all somehow erased from the landscape of neurodiversity.

Medication was not the only thing that changed

One of the things I found most frustrating was the way the experiment was framed. The premise seemed to be: how does this child cope without stimulant medication?

But at the same time, there were huge changes made to his home life. Screens were and sugary foods were removed, time in nature increased, and there appeared to be more calm, focused family time.

All of those things can have an impact on ADHD symptoms. So how can you fairly assess whether medication was the key factor if you are changing so many other things at once? If I learnt anything from my physics and biology A-level it was that you only have one variable to have a fair experiment - thank you AQA!

I can’t speak professionally about how medication affects children. I’m not a doctor, and I wasn’t medicated as a child. But I can speak from the conversations I’ve had and the people I know. My mom, who is a teacher of young children, shared with me that she has seen medication make a genuine difference for children who were really struggling. She has seen them not be able to access learning begin to tap into their potential and thrive once support was in place.

That doesn’t mean medication is always the answer. It doesn’t mean it works for everyone. But to suggest it is broadly unnecessary or harmful without showing the fuller picture feels deeply irresponsible.

Medication should be a tool, not the only tool

I do actually agree with one point: medication should not be the only thing offered.

When I was diagnosed, I was handed a prescription. I asked whether there was any therapy, coaching, books, articles or even a leaflet I could take away to help me understand this new diagnosis. I was told no, the NHS did not have the capacity for that. That, to me, is a real problem.

People should not be left to process a life-changing diagnosis with nothing but medication and a follow-up appointment. There should be support, education, practical strategies, workplace guidance, emotional processing, and space to understand what ADHD has meant across someone’s life.

Medication can be incredibly helpful, but it should sit alongside other support.

For example, if I had been diagnosed as a child, I don’t know whether medication would have been the first thing I needed. I think classroom accommodations, emotional understanding and support with how I learned and interacted with the world may have made more of a difference.

Everyone’s experience is different. For some people, medication is life-changing. For others, it might not be the right fit. Some people need environmental changes whilst others thrive on understanding and compassion - and for most of us its a combination of all of these things in varying quantities. That nuance was exactly what felt missing.

The danger of telling one story as if it is the whole truth

What upset me most was how one-sided the documentary felt. There was very little sense that there was another perspective. Very little acknowledgement that many people go through long, difficult processes to be assessed. Very little space for the people whose lives have changed for the better because they finally understood their brains and accessed the right support.

From my own experience with the services in my area, diagnoses are not handed out quickly or casually. The idea that ADHD diagnosis is simply being pushed by drug companies for profit feels unkind, especially to people who have spent years trying to access help.

I kept wondering: would a documentary frame another mental health or neurodevelopmental condition this way? Would we see a programme asking whether bipolar disorder or BPD was a myth in the same tone?

What was even the aim of this documentary? Because education or compassion certainly wasn’t it. The impact of airing such a tunnel-visioned view risks making vulnerable people, many of whom already struggle to be believed, face yet another wave of misunderstanding.

The shame that comes after being open

I often talk about my ADHD openly. Partly because I want to encourage honest conversations. Partly because I know that when I’m involved in a task, project or workplace situation, openness can help create better outcomes. It allows people to understand how I work best, where I might need clarity, and where my strengths are.

But after watching the documentary, I felt something I hadn’t expected.

I felt ashamed.

I found myself wondering whether I had been naive to share my diagnosis. Whether being open could stop opportunities coming my way. Whether people might quietly see me as less capable, less reliable, or less professional because of it.

But then I had to ask myself another question:

Do I really want to work with people who see neurodiversity as a weakness, inconvenience or myth?

The answer is no.

Still, it is a painful thing to be reminded that not everyone sees difference with compassion.

What if the problem was not medication itself?

Another part that stood out to me was the child’s experience of feeling like he had lost part of himself while medicated. That should absolutely be listened to. No one should feel flattened, dulled or disconnected from themselves. But that doesn’t automatically mean ADHD medication is wrong as a whole.

From my own experience and from speaking with others, medication can vary hugely depending on the person, the dose, the brand, the timing, and what else is happening in life. Within my local service, I have been encouraged to try different options and combinations until finding something that works for what I need it to do.

If someone feels unlike themselves, that may be a sign that the medication, dose or approach is not right for them. It is not necessarily proof that medication itself is unnecessary.

And again, lifestyle matters too. The documentary itself seemed to acknowledge that by changing screen time, food, family routines and time outdoors yet they still say all the positives that came from the 6 weeks were solely down to the medication being removed.

ADHD is not a myth just because support is complicated

I came away from the documentary feeling sad. Not because I think the current system is perfect. It isn’t. I do think people need more than medication and that families need more support. I do also think adults need better education after diagnosis and we all need environments that understand us, not just prescriptions that ask us to sit still.

But none of that makes ADHD a myth. It makes the support system incomplete.

I am thankful to now find myself in communities that understand and embrace neurodiversity. I have friends, colleagues and spaces where ADHD is not treated as a character flaw, but as part of a person’s way of experiencing and moving through the world. I really feel for those who do not have that. The people watching that documentary alone. The parents second-guessing themselves. The adults newly diagnosed and already wondering if they are “making it up.” The children who may now hear more jokes, more doubt, more judgement.

That is the harm of telling a narrow story.

ADHD is not a myth. But the idea that one documentary could capture the full truth of it probably is.