Everyone Has ADHD Now Because Everything Is Traumatizing Your Nervous System

I’m looking at my ADHD diagnosis from 2022. Eight pages of test results. $3,500 worth of cognitive assessments. A psychologist with more letters after her name than a Scrabble endgame telling me what I already knew: my brain doesn’t work like it’s “supposed to”.

Except here’s what nobody wants to say: supposed to according to what? A system that requires you to sit still for eight hours while staring at screens that are literally designed to fracture your attention? A world where you’re processing seventeen existential threats before breakfast? An economy that demands you maintain focus while everything around you is actively on fire?

My test results say I have ADHD Combined Presentation and Complex PTSD. The psychologist wrote, “Given Cody’s history of trauma, it seems entirely possible that the cause of his difficulties with inattention, hyperactivity, and impulsivity could be attributed to a reaction to experiencing trauma.”

You know what that means? Even the professionals can’t tell where the trauma ends and the ADHD begins. Because maybe they’re the same fucking thing.

The Test That Told Me What I Already Knew

According to Viewpoint Psychology & Wellness, my cognitive testing showed I could solve complex problems and see patterns most people miss. My perceptual reasoning? 92nd percentile. Superior range. But when it came to executive function, I bombed every measure that mattered.

The BRIEF-A (Behavior Rating Inventory of Executive Function) showed clinical elevations across the board. My Global Executive Composite score was in the 98th percentile. That doesn’t mean I’m good at executive function. That means 98% of adults have better executive function than me.

Working memory? 99th percentile of dysfunction. Task monitoring? 99th percentile of can’t. Organization? Forget it. Literally. Because I will forget it.

The Conners rating scale (the gold standard ADHD assessment) showed I was in the “Very Much Above Average” range for both inattentive and hyperactive symptoms. My therapist Emily, who’d been watching me fidget and interrupt and lose my train of thought for four years, scored me even higher.

But here’s the kicker: the computer test of attention didn’t fully support ADHD. You know why? Because I can hyperfocus when I’m being tested. Put me in a controlled environment with a clear task and immediate consequences, and my trauma brain locks in. It’s the real world that breaks me.

Your Trauma and Your ADHD Are Having a Conversation You’re Not Invited To

I was sexually abused from age 6 to 12. My dad had a mental breakdown when I was 12 and went on disability. My family got evicted. I was parentified before I knew what that word meant. By the time my brain was supposed to be learning how to focus, it was learning how to survive.

The psychologist noted this. She wrote that trauma can cause symptoms identical to ADHD. But then she diagnosed me with both anyway. Because that’s how the DSM works. It doesn’t care why your brain is broken, just that it matches the checklist.

But I care about the why. Because understanding the why changes everything.

According to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, 75% of children receiving mental health services have experienced at least one traumatic event. The National Child Traumatic Stress Network reports that complex trauma in childhood affects attention, concentration, and executive function in ways that perfectly mimic ADHD.

You see where I’m going with this?

The ADHD Industrial Complex

The global ADHD medication market was worth $20.1 billion in 2023 according to Grand View Research. It’s expected to hit $35.2 billion by 2030. That’s not because suddenly everyone’s brain is broken. It’s because everyone’s environment is traumatizing.

According to the CDC, ADHD diagnoses in adults increased 123% between 2007 and 2022. Among adults aged 23 to 49, prescriptions for ADHD medication rose 58% between 2018 and 2022 per Epic Research.

But here’s what those statistics don’t tell you: the same period saw the 2008 financial crisis, the gig economy explosion, the death of job security, social media addiction, two decades of war, a pandemic, and the complete collapse of social safety nets.

Your brain isn’t broken. Your brain is responding correctly to a broken world.

Why Everyone Thinks They Have ADHD Now

The conversation always goes one of two ways. Either “ADHD is overdiagnosed and everyone’s looking for an excuse” or “ADHD is finally being recognized and we’re catching cases we missed.”

Both narratives are bullshit. Here’s what’s actually happening:

We’re living in conditions that create ADHD symptoms in neurotypical brains AND exacerbate them in ADHD brains. The average American checks their phone 144 times per day according to Reviews.org. That’s once every seven minutes you’re awake. Your attention isn’t deficit. It’s under constant assault.

The American Psychological Association’s Stress in America report shows that 76% of adults report stress-related health impacts. Chronic stress literally changes your brain structure. It shrinks the prefrontal cortex (executive function) and enlarges the amygdala (fear response).

You know what that looks like? ADHD symptoms.

The Difference Between Can’t Focus and Won’t Let You Focus

I need you to understand something. There’s real ADHD, the kind that shows up in childhood before trauma, the kind that’s hereditary, the kind that exists regardless of environment. I probably have that too. My dad sure as hell has it. The evaluation noted I showed symptoms before the trauma started.

But there’s also environmental ADHD. Trauma-induced ADHD. Capitalism-induced ADHD. Tech-induced ADHD. And they all look the same on a diagnostic checklist.

The DSM-5 criteria for ADHD includes:

• Often fails to give close attention to details

• Often has difficulty sustaining attention in tasks

• Often does not seem to listen when spoken to directly

• Often loses things necessary for tasks

• Is often easily distracted by extraneous stimuli

Now let me show you something else. Common symptoms of chronic stress according to Mayo Clinic:

• Difficulty concentrating

• Memory problems

• Constant worrying

• Inability to focus

• Poor judgment

Common symptoms of PTSD according to the National Institute of Mental Health:

• Trouble concentrating

• Difficulty remembering things

• Being easily distracted

• Hypervigilance

• Difficulty completing tasks

You seeing the pattern?

What My Test Results Actually Revealed

My IQ testing showed something fascinating. I scored in the Superior range for perceptual reasoning but only Average for verbal comprehension. You know what that gap means? My brain can solve complex problems but can’t always explain how. I can see patterns others miss but can’t always communicate them.

That’s not ADHD. That’s what happens when you spend your childhood dissociating instead of developing language skills. When you’re busy surviving, you don’t learn to talk about your internal experience. You learn to read the room, spot the danger, find the exit.

The psychologist called it a “discrepancy.” I call it adaptation.

My working memory scored High Average overall, but when you broke it down, I could hold information perfectly when I was interested but completely failed when I wasn’t. That’s not a deficit. That’s a brain that learned early to only pay attention to what might hurt me.

The Medication Conspiracy That Almost Kept Me Sick

Here’s where it gets dark. The evaluation recommended medication but noted my “history with substance abuse.” My therapist Emily, the one who would later blackmail me for $126,000, told me I could NEVER be on stimulants again. She insisted the risk was too high. That I’d relapse. That I couldn’t be trusted.

For years, I believed her. I tried every non-stimulant option. Nothing worked. And Emily kept saying that was just how it had to be because of my history of alcholism. That I needed to accept my limitations. That wanting stimulants was my addiction talking.

Then I lost everything, including Emily’s “care.” I went to an addiction specialty clinic. You know what they did? They looked at my test results, listened to my symptoms, and prescribed Adderall immediately.

The place that SPECIALIZES in addiction had no problem giving me stimulants. Because they understood something Emily either didn’t or wouldn’t admit: untreated ADHD is one of the biggest risk factors for addiction. According to research in the Journal of Clinical Psychiatry, treating ADHD with stimulants actually REDUCES substance abuse risk by 31%.

Emily kept me sick on purpose. Whether from ignorance or malice, I’ll never know. But considering she later extorted me for six figures using my vulnerabilities against me, I have my suspicions.

I’m on Adderall now. 30mg extended release. And for the first time in my adult life, my brain works the way other people’s always seemed to. I can start a task and finish it. I can have a conversation without forgetting what we’re talking about mid-sentence. I can exist without feeling like I’m drowning in my own thoughts.

The medication isn’t perfect. It doesn’t fix trauma. It doesn’t make capitalism bearable. But it does make my actual neurological difference manageable. And that’s something Emily never wanted me to have.

Why This Matters More Than You Think

According to Russell Barkley’s research, adults with ADHD die on average 12.7 years younger than neurotypical adults. Not from the ADHD itself, but from accidents, addiction, suicide, and stress-related illness.

We’re not dying from attention deficit. We’re dying from trying to exist in a world that wasn’t built for how our brains work. And we’re dying faster when medical professionals gatekeep the treatments that actually help.

My evaluation cost $3,500. Insurance didn’t cover it. The waitlist was six months. The therapy recommended? $200 per session, twice weekly. The medication? Would have been $300 per month if Emily had her way, trying non-stimulant after non-stimulant. My Adderall? $40 with insurance. And it actually works.

You know what this means? Some providers profit more from keeping you sick than helping you heal. The longer you stay in therapy trying to “work through” what’s actually a neurological difference, the more money they make.

The Truth They Don’t Want You to Know

Your ADHD might be real neurodevelopmental difference. Or it might be trauma. Or it might be a reasonable response to unreasonable demands. Or it might be all three. The distinction matters less than you think.

What matters is that you’re struggling to function in a system that profits from your dysfunction. Pharmaceutical companies need you to need their pills. But some therapists need you to NOT get the right pills so you keep needing them. Employers need you desperate enough to accept exploitation. The wellness industry needs you to believe you’re broken so they can sell you fixes.

My test results prove I have ADHD. They also prove I have PTSD. They also prove I’m intelligent as fuck but can’t remember where I put my keys. They prove my brain works differently. They don’t prove I’m the problem.

What Actually Helps (Since You’re Wondering)

Forget the morning routines and productivity hacks. Here’s what actually works:

Getting properly medicated if you actually have ADHD, despite what gatekeepers might tell you about your “risk factors.” Understanding that executive dysfunction is real whether it’s from ADHD, trauma, or existing under late capitalism. Accepting that your brain might never work “normally” and that’s not a moral failing. Finding providers who treat you like an adult capable of managing your own care. Building systems that work with your chaos instead of against it.

And most importantly: recognizing that feeling like you can’t focus, can’t complete tasks, can’t sit still, can’t remember anything might not be a disorder. It might be your nervous system correctly identifying that this entire situation is fucked.

The Bottom Line Nobody Will Say

Everyone has ADHD now because everything is traumatizing. Your childhood was traumatizing. Your job is traumatizing. Your phone is traumatizing. The news is traumatizing. The economy is traumatizing. Dating is traumatizing. Existing is traumatizing.

Some of us came pre-traumatized with childhood abuse and generational dysfunction. Some of us have genetic ADHD that would exist regardless. Most of us have both, and then had capitalism and technology thrown on top like gasoline on a neurological fire.

The solution isn’t just medication, though proper medication literally saves lives when you actually have ADHD. The solution isn’t better focus apps or productivity systems. The solution is admitting that asking human brains to function in this environment is like asking fish to breathe air and then diagnosing them with lung dysfunction when they can’t.

I have ADHD. Diagnosed, documented, definitive. I also have CPTSD from being sexually abused, financially devastated, psychologically tortured, and emotionally destroyed. I also live in 2025 where every notification is a crisis and every day demands impossible focus.

All of these things are true. All of them matter. None of them are my fault.

And probably, neither are yours.

But here’s what I learned the hard way: if someone tells you that you can’t be trusted with the medication that could help you function, ask yourself what they gain from keeping you dysfunctional. Because the therapist who insisted I could never handle stimulants? She was actively planning to exploit my dysfunction for profit.

Sometimes the people who claim to be protecting you are actually protecting their income stream.

—Cody Taymore

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