I didn't mean to start a fire
A few weeks ago I posted a clip from my conversation with Dr. Aaron Dodini. The question was simple. Is ADHD a superpower, or is it a disability?
The comments split down the middle. Some of you said yes, absolutely, it's a superpower. Others said it was exhausting to hear that, and that nobody should have to live like this.
I didn't know Paris Hilton was hosting an "ADHD as a superpower" summit that same week. I wasn't trying to piggyback on anything. I just asked a question, and the timing turned out to be interesting…
So when Aaron and I sat down for week four of our podcast conversations, I brought it up. Before we even hit record, I told him what I'd noticed in all those comments:
What people responded to was the identity, and debate. This identity around ADHD, and who you are, or you think you are, or who other people think you are. Fascinating when you bring in identity to it.
People weren't really arguing about ADHD. They were arguing about who they think they are.
The question under the question
Here's what I mean. How you answer "superpower or disability" often says more about who you think you are than about your brain.
Aaron took that and reframed it. Some of us carry an identity that sounds like, "I'm capable, so whatever my brain is doing must be working." Others carry one that sounds like, "Something is wrong with me, and that's how I finally get help." Both come from how we grew up, what we were told, and how our personalities are wired.
Then he asked the question that became the whole episode:
How do we sort out what is neurology versus what is personality or identity? And how does our identity shape the way we live with this brain?
As a dad of kids with ADHD, he named the tension every parent feels. You don't want your kid ashamed of how their brain works. You also don't want them deciding, "I'm just this way, and there's nothing I can do about it."
In a recent coffee shop conversation, a friend said her mom just got an ADHD diagnosis, and she blamed everything on that. The diagnosis became the reason to stop trying instead of the reason to try differently.
When your identity is "the capable one"
Then Aaron described a woman with grit. She works hard. She's confident. She gets things done. And she won't get diagnosed until her 40s or 50s, because she'll keep figuring it out until the day she hits a wall.
Then she'll look around and think, "What happened? I thought I had superpowers."
That was me. Someone would say, "I can't believe you did all of that today." And I'd think, isn't everybody doing this? Then I'd step back from a role, and they'd need three or four people to replace me. And I was exhausted.
Aaron brought up something from his grad school days. People with a high need for achievement don't chase the easiest tasks. Easy doesn't feel like enough. But they don't chase the riskiest ones either, because failure stings too much. They look for a sweet spot. Hard enough to matter. Safe enough to win.
That's what he hopes for his kids. Not "I have ADHD, so why try." Not "I have to change the world, or I've failed." Somewhere in the middle, where they know their challenges are real and still believe they can grow.
So which is it? Both.
Aaron's answer to "superpower or disability" is always “yes.”
The same brain that locks in and crushes a project on Tuesday can lose ten hours to scrolling on Wednesday. That's what makes ADHD so confusing to live with. It's a different kind of disability. It doesn't go away, but it shows up in waves. One day you feel brilliant. The next day you feel lazy. And your sense of who you are swings right along with it.
He also pointed out why the word "disability" matters to so many of you. If someone only calls it a superpower, it can feel like they don't see how hard you're working just to keep up. And practically, accommodations at school and work usually require naming it as a disability.
You are not your symptoms. My son's hard moment isn't who he is. It's how his brain is reacting right now. Separating the person from the behavior is where change starts.
Aaron's version: "It is a brain, and we all have them, and we all have challenges with them." The answer isn't picking a label.
It's building systems with enough flexibility, and enough grace, that different brains can actually work inside them.
Who are you?
A lot of us built our identity on being high-achieving and capable. Then a diagnosis comes, or the wall comes, and that identity cracks. If I'm not the one who holds it all together, who am I?
Aaron said that's true of any big life change.
And the place we rebuild is in the margins. The breathing room. The connections with people who get it.
A diagnosis isn't the end of the story. It's the moment things finally make sense. It's an explanation, not an excuse. And what you do next is your decision.
So here's my question for you this week. When you hear "superpower or disability," which one do you reach for first? What does that say about the story you've been telling yourself?
Now that you understand your wiring, what are you going to do with it?
Dr. Aaron Dodini is a licensed clinical psychologist and marriage and family therapist, and the founder of Axon ADHD. His practice focuses on helping kids, teens, and adults get a clear, accurate ADHD diagnosis and a treatment plan that fits the whole person. He’s also a dad to kids with ADHD, so he knows this work from both sides of the evaluation. He’s quoted in Dr. Jennie Byrne’s book ADHD in Professionals. Learn more or get evaluated at axonadhd.com.
Listen to all four of our podcast episodes here. (link coming soon)
