12/08/2025
I’ve said for a long time that I have superpowers.
ADHD Isn’t the Problem — The Environment Is
There is a version of ADHD that people rarely talk about, a version that challenges the way we understand the human mind altogether. For so long, the world has presented ADHD as a defect, a disorder, a malfunction in the system. But what if the only malfunction has been the system itself? What if ADHD isn’t a flaw in the brain, but a mismatch between ancient wiring and a modern world that no longer honors it?
When you look closely at the traits associated with ADHD — fast reflexes, heightened awareness, scanning attention, instinctive vigilance, rapid adaptability — they don’t resemble weaknesses. They resemble the qualities of people who once kept entire communities alive. In ancestral environments, these traits weren’t just useful; they were essential. The person who could react instantly to danger, notice subtle shifts in the environment, sense emotional changes, or pivot quickly in uncertain situations was a survivor and a protector. Their brain wasn’t scattered; it was strategic.
Many researchers and neurodivergent adults believe ADHD reflects an ancient phenotype — a different cognitive style that served our species long before cities, offices, and standardized routines existed. In natural environments, ADHD traits weren’t “symptoms.” They were superpowers. The world rewarded fast thinkers, quick movers, flexible minds, and perceptive senses. These qualities shaped the scouts, the trackers, the problem-solvers, the explorers. They shaped the people who made sense of chaos and adapted before anyone else realized change was coming.
But today, we live in a world built for predictability, repetition, and uniformity. This era demands stillness, silence, conformity, and long stretches of sustained attention — a rhythm that contradicts the biological design of many ADHD brains. Instead of honoring different types of intelligence, our systems label anything outside the narrow norm as a disorder.
When a child with ADHD struggles to sit still in a classroom designed for motionless learning, the world claims there’s something wrong with the child.
When an adult with ADHD feels restless, creative, impulsive, energetic, and deeply intuitive, the world calls them unfocused or irresponsible.
When a mind built for rapid scanning and fast pattern recognition becomes overwhelmed in a culture of rigid structures and repetitive tasks, society labels it dysfunctional.
But the truth is far more compassionate: ADHD isn’t a problem in the brain. It’s a problem in the environment.
Most modern systems — schools, workplaces, schedules, expectations — were built around industrial-age values. They prioritize efficiency over creativity, routine over innovation, and uniform performance over diverse thinking. These structures aren’t designed for minds that operate dynamically, instinctively, or intuitively. They’re built for a small window of neurological styles, leaving millions of equally brilliant minds feeling misplaced, misunderstood, and mislabeled.
People with ADHD often internalize the idea that they’re “too much,” “not enough,” or perpetually failing at things that seem effortless to others. But the reality is, they’re trying to function in spaces that don’t reflect how their brain naturally operates. And when a brain is forced to exist in an incompatible environment long enough, symptoms appear — not because the brain is broken, but because it’s exhausted from adapting.
Hyperactivity becomes restlessness because the world demands stillness.
Distractibility becomes overwhelm because the world floods the senses without relief.
Emotional intensity becomes dysregulation because the world expects muted reactions and detached responses.
Fast thinking becomes anxiety because the world moves too slowly for a mind built for rapid processing.
This mismatch creates shame, frustration, burnout, and self-doubt. Adults with ADHD often grow up believing they need to “fix” themselves, not realizing that the real issue lies in a society that doesn’t understand how to support or value different neurological designs.
When ADHD traits are placed in the right environment — one that allows movement, creativity, flexibility, curiosity, stimulation, and dynamic engagement — everything changes. Suddenly, what once appeared chaotic becomes innovative. What once looked unfocused becomes visionary. What once seemed impulsive becomes intuitive problem-solving.
The same brain that struggles in rigid systems thrives in roles requiring creativity, adaptability, imagination, empathy, or quick response. The same mind that drifts during monotony comes alive in moments of challenge, urgency, or exploration. And the same person who felt “too much” for traditional settings becomes an undeniable asset in environments where originality and instinct are valued.
ADHD is not a failure of the brain — it is a failure of the environment to accommodate different brains. It’s the modern world insisting on one way of learning, one way of working, one way of behaving, one way of thinking, even though humanity has always been neurologically diverse.
When we stop viewing ADHD through the lens of disorder and begin viewing it through the lens of evolution, resilience, and cognitive diversity, an entirely different story emerges. It becomes a story of people whose traits once shaped human survival. A story of minds that were designed for dynamic worlds, not standardized ones. A story of brilliance that has been overlooked simply because it doesn’t fit into boxes built for someone else.
Imagine a world where classrooms encouraged movement, workplaces embraced creativity, and society honored emotional intensity as depth rather than weakness. Imagine a world designed for human brilliance instead of industrial efficiency. ADHD wouldn’t look like a disorder there. It would look like what it has always been — a different kind of wiring with its own strengths, challenges, and extraordinary potential.
The conclusion is simple but powerful: ADHD is not the issue. The environment is.
