The New Accessory Of The Creative World…ADHD? Or Just My ADHD Kicking In

There’s a new accessory in the creative world, and it’s not a designer bag or a vintage leather jacket. It’s ADHD. Not the real, diagnosed, life-altering kind, the one that wrecks your focus, screws with your emotions, and f*cks up your life. No, it is the aesthetic version. The “haha my ADHD brain” version. The one where people throw the term around like it’s just a fun little personality trait, something that makes them more interesting at parties.

You hear it everywhere. The model who double-booked a shoot? „Ugh, my ADHD is so bad.“ The stylist who got bored of a project and started a new one? Classic ADHD moment. The creative director who forgot a deadline? „Oops, my ADHD kicked in!“ Except, no. That’s not ADHD. That’s just being a distracted or lazy human being.

I actually have ADHD. DIAGNOSED. MEDICATED. On the highest dose legally allowed. And only now, at 41, am I experiencing what it’s like to have a somewhat normal life. Before this? ADHD was destroying me from the inside out. It took me through a couple rehabs, left me fighting addiction, and nearly ruined me; professionally, emotionally, physically. And yet, I still managed to function. I built a career, kept it together just enough that most people never knew the full extent of the chaos. But behind closed doors, I was self-medicating, spiraling, barely holding on. 

That’s the part no one talks about when they throw around ADHD like it’s some fun personality trait. No one talks about how people with ADHD are far more likely to struggle with eating disorders, alcoholism, and drug abuse. No one talks about how the same dopamine-starved brain that fuels creativity also fuels self-destruction. ADHD isn’t just “getting distracted” or “being bad with deadlines.” It is losing entire days because your brain forgot to EAT. It is drinking until you black out because impulse control does not exist for you. It’s blowing money, chasing highs; food highs, alcohol highs, drug highs, because for one second, it makes your brain feel right. 

It’s rehab. It’s relapses. It’s rebuilding yourself over and over again.

This is where I am now: I don’t smoke. I drink, but in a way that I actually enjoy, not as an escape. I have used drugs, but I am not addicted. I don’t need them to function, to feel something, and especially not to slow my brain down and reward it. The person I was at 30 and the person I am now? Two completely different people. And that’s because I fought like hell to get where I am today. But I did not do it alone. I had the right doctors, psychologists, and medication (and of course family), people who actually understood ADHD and knew how to help. And that made all the difference.

Here's something I've come to realize: I was lucky. Living in Germany, I was privately insured before my ADHD diagnosis. Had that been the other way around, I wouldn't have been able to access private insurance at all. It's hard to believe, but ADHD is still viewed by many systems as a liability, a pre-existing condition, or a financial risk. So, not only do you have to manage a world that isn’t built for you, but you also have to prove you deserve basic access to care.

And this issue isn’t just isolated to one country, it’s global. Health systems everywhere make it harder for neurodivergent people to get the help they need. Whether it’s insurance policies, high medication costs, or endless waiting lists. One thing is clear: if you have ADHD, getting proper treatment often depends on privilege and money. And that's simply wrong.
Access to the right care, the right medication, shouldn't be a game of chance. If people with ADHD had the support they need, we could see a world full of visionary individuals, maybe even someone like Elon Musk, but with the empathy and self-awareness to have a truly positive impact on society. The system shouldn't stand in the way of that potential.

Right now, ADHD is a buzzword, a punchline, a personality trait. It’s something people throw around when they forget their keys or send a late-night chaotic text. But for those of us who actually live with it? It’s not a trend. It’s our everyday life.
So the next time you catch yourself saying, “Oops, my ADHD brain forgot!”—ask yourself:
Do you actually have ADHD? Or are you just a little forgetful, a little impulsive, a little distracted? Because those things are normal. ADHD isn’t.

And maybe it’s time we stop treating it like an accessory.