But something about this time felt different.

For some reason—likely because of the powerful conversation I’d had with my mentor that morning – I was seeing the story through a completely new lens.

My ADHD lens.

When Our Differences Aren’t Green (But Still Feel Just as Visible)

For so many of us with ADHD, the ways we’re different aren’t visible. Not to us, not to others – not at first. What is visible, however, is the impact of that difference. The ways we don’t seem to “fit.”

But because it’s all we’ve ever known, it doesn’t feel like “ADHD.” It feels like us. It doesn’t come with green skin to explain away the strange looks or exclusion. So, instead, we internalise it.

For me in just one example, when I was a teenager at school it looked like struggling with peer relationships. I couldn’t understand why things felt harder for me than for others. And because no one was there to explain it or normalise it, I did what so many of us do – I blamed myself.

Judgment. Shame. “What’s wrong with me?” These questions stayed with me for years. Decades, even. Until I was 53 years old, when someone finally turned to me and said, “Let’s take a look at this checklist… do these symptoms and descriptions resonate with you?”

Ninety-five percent. That’s how much of it fit. And for the first time in my life, I had an answer.

A New Lens, A New Story: I have ADHD

The moment of diagnosis – whether official or self-recognised – can feel like putting on glasses for the first time. Suddenly, what felt blurry and confusing makes sense. You’re not broken. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re wired differently.

And once you have that understanding, you can begin to reinterpret the story walls you’ve built around yourself.

That’s what happened on the weekend when I watched Wicked.

Elphaba – green-skinned, misunderstood, excluded – spoke directly to my heart. Her feelings of being “othered,” of not belonging, mirrored the invisible challenges of ADHD. Even when you’re in the middle of a room filled with people who care about you, that feeling of not quite fitting can still scratch under your skin.

Her turning point? When Glinda reflects back to her:

“Just because you believe something, doesn’t make it true.”

The stories we carry about ourselves – the ones that tell us we’re not enough, not capable, not worthy – they’re just that: stories. They’re not facts. But until we unpack them, they hold us back. They keep us playing small, living in the shadow of self-doubt.

Defying Gravity, Sparky Brain Style

And then there’s Defying Gravity.

It’s the song that made tears fall and my heart ache in the best way because the lyrics felt like they were speaking to every woman who’s ever struggled to trust herself.

“Something has changed within me.

Something is not the same.

I’m through with playing by the rules of someone else’s game.

Too late for second-guessing.

Too late to go back to sleep.

It’s time to trust my instincts, to close my eyes and leap”

Elphaba may have had a magic book and used a spell to fly. But you don’t need a broomstick or wings. Your version of “defying gravity” might not look like leaping into the sky. It might look quieter. Smaller.

It might look like giving yourself permission to finally try things your way.

It might look like stepping out of the “shoulds” of what your business, career, or life is supposed to look like – and painting your face green if that’s what it takes to feel free.

Permission to Be Sparky

Here’s what I know about us Sparky Brain folks:

We are deep feelers. We want to make a difference. And there’s something inside each of us that only we can do.

That’s why self-leadership matters so much. It’s not about following someone else’s path. It’s about learning to trust yourself. Understanding how your brain works. Giving yourself space and grace to rewrite the stories that have held you back.

Because while I don’t believe ADHD is an automatic “superpower” for everyone, I do believe it comes with superpowers. You just have to find yours—and then take the leap.

You don’t have to paddle upstream. You don’t have to fit into someone else’s mould. You can defy gravity in your own way.

So, what’s your broomstick moment?

Because I’m right here beside you.