From then to now: the neurodivergent way of being

I remember when I was a child, my father often told me that I was a Type A personality. I was active, curious, talkative, intense. That’s just how I was and no one tried to “fix” me. They may have raised an eyebrow, told me to sit still, spanked me, or even “punished” me from time to time.

But looking back, and comparing my experience to the methods many modern parents feel compelled to use today, I consider myself lucky and grateful for my upbringing. I wasn’t sent to a specialist, I wasn’t evaluated, and no one ever thought to medicate me.

Given the society I live in now, I can’t help but wonder how I’d be labeled if I were a child today. Would my intensity still be seen as drive and part of a normal, healthy child? Or would it be flagged as a symptom and labeled ADHD? That question stays with me as I discover how many children and adults are being diagnosed with ADHD.

While I don’t doubt the value of support or relief that a diagnosis can bring, I also notice how we’ve stopped making space for natural variation in personality, energy, or attention span and started medicalizing it all.

Back then, no one gave me a pill to make me “slow down and behave.” I was simply expected to learn, adapt and grow into myself. Today, I see so much pressure on kids to conform—to sit still, focus a certain way, and succeed within narrow systems. And the same pressure continues in adulthood.

Of course, some kids and adults need more support. I’m not questioning that. But I do wonder what we lose when every burst of energy, every moment of restlessness, every difficulty with sitting still is seen as a disorder instead of a variation of being human. In my time, being “a lot” was not only accepted but expected, even when it was inconvenient for the adults around me. Now, it seems much easier to get pathologized and medicated.

So what changed—from then to now?

What was once seen as a personality type, or simply as the way a healthy, normal kid behaves, is now often viewed through the lens of neurodevelopmental disorders. Yet not every child who can’t sit still is “broken.” If my father called me “Type A” as a child, chances are that today those same behaviors—high energy, impulsivity, fast thinking—might lead to an ADHD diagnosis.

There is a fine line in diagnosing, and studies show how easily it is to misdiagnose. However, a new shift has been taking place with more specialists beginning to reframe ADHD not as a pathology, but as a different cognitive style—a neurodivergent way of being.

The term “neurodivergent” is part of a newer cultural and scientific movement in how we understand brain differences. While neurological variation has always existed, the term “neurodivergent” is relatively recent and reflects changing attitudes.

Coined in 1998 by sociologist Judy Singer, the term was originally linked to autism. Since then, it’s expanded to include ADHD, dyslexia, Tourette’s, OCD, and other neurological differences that diverge from what’s considered “neurotypical.” Rather than pathologizing these traits, the term emphasizes difference—not disorder.

Backed by neuroscience and psychology, the recognition that people’s brains process information differently marks a meaningful evolution in how we understand mental health and learning styles. It also reflects broader cultural shifts, such as the growing acceptance of cultural diversity.

So before rushing toward a diagnosis or a quick fix, take a moment to explore other options. There are many ways to support yourself or your child that don’t begin with a label and end with a prescription.

And since today is Father’s Day, I’ll end this post by thanking my father for having been my father. His presence is still very much alive in my heart, thoughts, and fond memories.