Psychologist Meagan Cooke spent years supporting children and families with ADHD while completely disconnected from her own teenage diagnosis—one she’d never been told about. Known as “Little Miss Scatterbrain” by friends but praised as highly organized by colleagues, she masked her struggles until crisis point forced her to seek help. This is Meagan’s story.
The most powerful moment in my ADHD journey happened long before I even knew I had ADHD.
When I got married in India, friends and family travelled from Australia to celebrate. During the week-long festivities, my oldest school friends shared a conversation they’d had with my then work colleagues. Apparently, my work colleagues described me as “one of the most organised, responsive, and reliable people they worked with”.
My friends burst out laughing, describing me instead as someone who “doesn’t respond to calls or texts, opens mail twice a year, double-books, always runs late…” You get the idea. They affectionately called me “Little Miss Scatterbrain.”
While everyone found it hilarious, I felt myself shrinking inside. The contradictions between these two versions of me – one hyper-efficient, the other chronically disorganised – were shocking and painfully exposing. I sensed the moment was significant but couldn’t grasp why. So, I pushed it aside, continued masking at work, and poured all my energy into maintaining the version of me that looked “together.”
Years later, when my parents downsized, they handed me several boxes of old papers to sort through. One afternoon, I stumbled upon a lengthy report with my name on it. As I skimmed, one phrase leapt off the page: mild attention deficit disorder.
A strange, hollow feeling washed over me. I vaguely remembered some testing as a teenager but had no recollection of being told I’d been diagnosed with ADD. I quietly placed the report back in the box and shoved it on a shelf.
There I was – a psychologist supporting children, adolescents, and families with ADHD – completely disconnected from my own diagnosis. With no one to walk me through it, I floundered for years, relying on sheer willpower and masking until I eventually reached crisis point.
When I finally sought help and started stimulant medication, everything changed. That first day, the difference was so profound it brought me to tears.
For the first time, I felt a deep connection to my diagnosis and what followed was a wave of grief, anger, confusion, and immense relief.
With support and self-discovery, I’ve developed a much deeper understanding of myself and how my brain works. I’ve learned to cultivate self-compassion and gradually unmask. I’ve come to understand how hard I worked just to appear “normal,” and how lonely that journey was without insight or validation.
I’ve forgiven myself for not recognising my own ADHD sooner – plumbers, after all, have leaky taps at home. I’ve made peace with not being told about my diagnosis at 15.
Of all the moments in my ADHD story, this one stays with me the most. It reminds me why my work as a psychologist matters – especially when supporting people at the point of diagnosis.
That moment of recognition can be life-changing. And while there’s so much more I could say, I’ll stop here – word limits have their place, even for those of us who’ve never quite loved them.
- Meagan Cooke
Every ADHD Story Is Different
Explore more from our ADHD Unscripted series
Oli Steven Unscripted: Finding My Pace
Adrien Koning Unscripted: Becoming the Calm in a Crisis
Meagan Cooke Unscripted: Little Miss Scatterbrain Meets Her Diagnosis
Felicity Everest Unscripted: The Balancing Act of AuDHD
