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How Advocating for My Kindergartener Led to My Adult ADHD Diagnosis at 38

  • Writer: Caitlin Kindred
    Caitlin Kindred
  • 2 days ago
  • 6 min read


This week, I'm sharing something different: my appearance on the Uncomfy podcast with host Julie Rose.


We talk about the moment a parent-friend told me my son's kindergarten teacher was using a stern voice with him "all the time"—and what happened when I chose to advocate for him anyway.


Spoiler: It led to two ADHD diagnoses. His and mine.


Listen to the Full Episode



The Moment Everything Changed

My hands shook. My stomach dropped. I was doing mental math on how many months are left in the school year.

That's how I felt when another parent told me what her kindergartener was seeing in the classroom: my son's teacher using a harsh, stern voice with him repeatedly. Not just once. Not just when he was misbehaving. All the time.


And here's the thing: I hate confrontation. Not in the shower. In the shower, I win every damn argument. But in real life? Please, no, don't make me.


I want to trust educators (I was one, for cryin' out loud.) I want to avoid drama. I want relationships to stay positive. I want people to like me... but that's a different thing.


But I have a strong sense of justice, and I just can't ignore that protective mama bear instinct when something feels... off.


So I had to put on my big girl pants and practice what I preach. I had to figure out how to advocate for my child without making it worse.


How to Advocate Without Starting From Accusation

In my conversation with Julie on Uncomfy, I walk through the framework I used—and it's one any parent can adapt.


Empty classroom with wooden desks and chairs, colorful stationery, and books. Green chalkboard with text and natural light from windows.

Step 1: Contact the teacher directly first

Don't go straight to the principal. Don't blast the school on social media. Start with the teacher.

But here's the key: don't come in hot with an accusation.


Note: There are times when you absolutely should not start with the teacher (think: accusations of sexual/physical abuse, etc.).


Step 2: Use "Can you help me understand?"

This phrase is magic. It turns a confrontation into fact-finding.


Instead of: "Why are you being so harsh with my kid?"


Try: "Can you help me understand what's happening in the classroom? I'm hearing some concerns and I want to get the full picture."


This reduces defensiveness all around and keeps you in problem-solving mode.


Bonus: You show up like a non-a**hole.


Step 3: Loop in support staff when needed

In our case, we brought in the school counselor. That gave us:

  • A neutral third party

  • Someone who could observe and document patterns

  • An advocate for both my son and the teacher


In this situation, I emailed the teacher and CC'd the counselor with my "Can you help me understand?" message.


Step 4: Separate valid frustration from harmful patterns

Teachers are human. Frustration happens. That's okay.


What's NOT okay: repeated harshness that makes a child feel unsafe or targeted.


In our meeting, we acknowledged the teacher's real challenges while also drawing a firm line: This pattern has to change.


The Unexpected Turn: ADHD

During that meeting, the school team flagged something: possible neurodivergence. Specifically, ADHD.


They saw behaviors in my son that weren't just "misbehavior." They were signs he needed support.


That reframed everything. We went from "How do we fix this kid?" to "How do we help this kid?"


We started the evaluation process. My son was diagnosed with ADHD.


And then something even more unexpected happened.


My Adult ADHD Diagnosis at 38

The evaluator looked at me during one of the meetings and said, almost casually: "Have you ever been evaluated for ADHD?"


I laughed. "Me? No. I was a good student. I got good grades."


He nodded. "That's common with ADHD in women. Especially high-achieving women."


And just like that, at a 38-year-old adult, I got my own ADHD diagnosis.


What ADHD Looks Like in Women (And Why It's So Often Missed)

ADHD in women doesn't always look like hyperactive little boys bouncing off walls.


It looks like:

  • Internal hyperactivity – Your mind races constantly, even when your body is still

  • High achievement paired with silent struggle – You're succeeding on the outside while drowning on the inside

    Once, Jenny and our friend Ashley told me they wanted to be when they grew up. I cackled in their faces. Turns out, my struggles were invisible to them.

  • Time blindness – You have no concept of how long things take, and it derails your day

  • Hyperfixation – You get obsessed with something for weeks or months, then move on

  • Hobby hopping – You collect supplies for new hobbies, overspend, then abandon them

  • Reading struggles – Not because you can't read, but because your brain won't let you focus long enough to finish

Suddenly, everything from my past made sense.


The struggle to accomplish easy but menial tasks, like scheduling doctor appointments. The difficulty in finishing books. The constant feeling of being behind. The shame of "just not trying hard enough."


It wasn't laziness. It was ADHD.


And the diagnosis gave me language, tools, and validation.


How ADHD Changed How I Parent

Now I'm a neurodivergent mom raising a neurodivergent child.


And that changes everything.


I can tell my son: "This is not you. This is a part of you."


That separation—between his identity and his symptoms—is huge. It reduces shame. It builds self-advocacy. It creates a home where feelings are believed.


I also understand him in ways I couldn't before. When he loses track of time, I get it. When he hyperfixates on something, I recognize it. When he struggles with transitions, I can empathize instead of just being frustrated.


The label didn't give me excuses. It gave me tools.


ADHD Traits I Live With Daily (And How I Manage Them)


Hobby Hopping

I get intensely interested in something, buy all the supplies, dive in for a few weeks... and then move on to the next thing.


My house is full of abandoned hobbies. Knitting (I now crochet, and I actually stuck with it!). Painting. Gardening. Embroidery. Calligraphy.


How I manage it: I've learned to recognize the pattern. I don't beat myself up for it anymore. And I try to borrow or buy secondhand before committing.


Time Blindness

I genuinely have no idea how long things take. I think "I'll just take a quick shower" and return to the living room 45 hours later, baffled.


How I manage it: Alarms. Timers. Asking other people to reality-check my estimates.


Mind Racing

My brain never stops. Even when I'm trying to relax, there are 17 tabs open in my head.


How I manage it: Meditation doesn't work for me. But walking does. Podcasts do. Anything that gives my brain something to latch onto while my body moves.


Hyperfixation

When I'm interested in something, I'm ALL IN. I will research it for hours, talk about it constantly, and consume every piece of content about it.


How I manage it: I try to channel it into productive things. Like this podcast series on practical resistance—I hyperfixated on civic engagement for weeks and turned it into 10 episodes.


Survival Skills for Modern Motherhood

At the end of the Uncomfy episode, Julie and I talk about how to survive modern motherhood when you're carrying all the things: kids, work, the state of the world, your own mental health.


Here's what's helping me:


1. Set boundaries around news consumption

I check the news twice a day. That's it. Morning and evening. If something truly urgent happens, I'll hear about it.


I crochet in the evenings so that I don't doomscroll. I don't read every terrible headline. I protect my bandwidth.


2. Schedule joy like it matters

I literally put "hobby time" on my calendar. If I don't schedule it, it won't happen.


Right now, that's crocheting. But it's also been painting, walking, baking—whatever my brain needs that week.


3. Sensory resets for overstimulation

When I'm overstimulated (which is often), I do this: candlelit shower in the dark (with battery-operated candles).


No music. No phone. Just warm water, a shower scent-tablet-thing, and three flickering candles.


It resets my nervous system in a way nothing else does.


The Bottom Line

Fear hits differently when it involves your child.


But sometimes advocacy—even when it's scary—leads to clarity, validation, and tools you didn't know you needed.


Advocating for my son led to his ADHD diagnosis. And mine.


And while ADHD is hard, having the language and tools makes it manageable. For both of us.


Listen to the full Uncomfy podcast episode for the complete conversation with Julie Rose, including more about conflict resolution, neurodivergence, and modern motherhood.


Resources

  • Uncomfy podcast – Find them on Instagram at @uncomfy.podcast or email uncomfy@byu.edu

  • ADHD resources for women:

    • "ADHD 2.0" by Edward Hallowell and John Ratey

    • ADDitude Magazine (additudemag.com)

    • How to ADHD (YouTube channel by Jessica McCabe)

    • Our ADHD series!


What's Next

Taking a short break to figure out the next direction for my practical resistance series. But I'll be back soon.


In the meantime, follow Uncomfy for more hard, useful conversations.


Love you, mean it,

Caitlin

How did you hear about us?

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