Mindfulness Helped Me Long Before I Knew I Had ADHD

At 52 years old, I found out that I was diagnosed with ADHD as a child. Twice.

Once in fifth grade, and again in high school.

The first time, when I was about ten, the doctors recommended Ritalin. But it was the early 80s, and ADHD wasn’t as widely understood as it is now. My mother was hesitant—concerned about medication, stigma, and what it might mean for me. So, she didn’t tell me about the diagnosis.

The doctors based their advice on one thing—my grades. When my mother told them I was doing well in school, they reassured her:

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

Of course, we now know that this was an oversimplification. Good grades don’t mean ADHD isn’t a challenge. But at the time, my mother made the best decision she could with the information she had. She was always supportive, helping me stay organized, work through my anxiety, and manage my perfectionism.

Still, looking back, I can see how ADHD was always part of my life—even if I didn’t know it.

Finding My Own Ways to Cope

As a kid, I was anxious. Deadlines stressed me out. I obsessed over getting my work just right. If I got anything less than an A, I was incredibly hard on myself.

But I had outlets.

Sports and martial arts helped more than I realized. Exercise gave me a way to release energy, but martial arts gave me something else: meditation.

Sitting quietly, focusing on my breath, and coming back to the present moment—these were just part of training. I didn’t think much of it back then, but now, looking back, I see it for what it was:

One of the most powerful tools I had for managing my ADHD.

Meditation as a Coping Mechanism (Before I Knew I Had ADHD)

Now that I understand ADHD better, I’ve been making connections between my past and present. For decades, mindfulness was both a coping mechanism and a form of self-medication.

Let me be clear: mindfulness meditation isn’t supposed to be a coping mechanism. It’s not a cure for ADHD, and it’s not about “fixing” anything.

But for me, it provided a kind of stability I didn’t even realize I needed.

Mindfulness isn’t about quieting the mind or tuning out distractions. It’s about practicing the skill of coming back to the here and now—again and again.

One of my teachers describes mindfulness as:

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“Paying attention on purpose, in the present moment, without judgment.”

Here’s a simple example:

Right now, as thoughts bounce around in your head, take a single breath. Notice it as it comes in. Notice it as it goes out.

That’s mindfulness.

The success isn’t in achieving a quiet mind. It’s in coming back—again and again.

Now, imagine doing this regularly. Maybe not just for one breath, but for five minutes. Ten. Twenty.

It’s not about the length of time—it’s about giving yourself more opportunities to return to the present.

For someone like me, with ADHD, this practice has been life-changing.

ADHD and the Struggle for Focus

In high school, everything had structure. Clear expectations. A routine I could follow. I thrived.

Then I got to college.

And suddenly, that structure was gone.

I knew something had changed, but I couldn’t quite place what it was. I struggled with studying. Decision-making felt impossible. I tried following the study habits of hyper-focused high achievers, but their methods didn’t work for me.

Then, when I finally narrowed my focus—when I was able to concentrate on my major instead of just trying to get through core requirements—I soared.

I was engaged, thriving, and in my element.

That pattern has shown up throughout my life. When I have clarity and direction, I excel. When things feel overwhelming and scattered, I struggle.