Is It Trauma or ADHD? Trying to Understand My Mind

Lately, I’ve been sitting with this question that keeps tapping on my shoulder:
Is what I’m experiencing rooted in trauma… or is it ADHD?

It’s not the first time I’ve asked myself this, but the question has grown louder lately. Maybe it’s the growing number of friends getting their children tested, or the social media posts that speak so clearly to my inner world. Maybe it’s just the quiet nudge of curiosity that’s been with me for years.

I’ve taken the online quizzes. I’ve read the articles, listened to the podcasts. Each time, I tick box after box and find myself whispering, “That’s me… that’s so me.”

Would it really help to have a label now? Would it make me feel seen, or more misunderstood?

I’ve made it this far. I’ve raised children, built a happy life, hold things together on a daily basis and doing OK. Would it actually change anything...?

I’m on holiday — our first trip abroad since I became a single parent and these questions have stirred up something deeper. I thought the break would help me rest, reset, breathe a little easier.

But instead, I’m struggling. Not in the obvious, parenting-is-hard kind of way (although yes, there’s been whining, fighting, endless snack requests and self-doubt). But it’s something more.

I can’t seem to be still.
I can’t seem to settle.
I find myself needing to do, to move, to plan, to fix. And when I don’t have anything to pour myself into, I feel bored. Restless. Even anxious.

The kids are content — splashing in the pool, watching a movie, happily drifting through the holiday routine. But me? I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin. My mind won’t slow down.

There’s not enough stimulation, not enough conversation, not enough something — though I can’t quite put my finger on what.

I tell myself I should be grateful. I am grateful. But then the guilt creeps in. The comparisons.
Should I have planned this better?
Picked a different country? Budgeted more wisely?

Why does it always feel like their dad gets it more right than I do?

The overthinking spirals. It's exhausting.

Back home, I stay busy.

There’s always something to manage — the kids, the house, work. It’s like I keep the overwhelm at bay by never letting it catch up to me.

But on holiday, with the distractions stripped away, I’m faced with myself. And it’s uncomfortable.

I notice the moods. The irritability. The frustration with the kids when they don’t want to go out and do what I want to do. And then, suddenly — moments of peace.

Playing in the pool. Sharing lunch outside while the birds sing. Feeling the breeze. I can relax — and I love it. Until, for no clear reason… I’m not.

The safety slips away. My chest tightens. My brain whirs back to life, overthinking every little thing.

The calm evaporates, and I’m scrambling to get it back.

It’s starting to sound a lot like trauma.
The dysregulation. The rollercoaster of emotions.
Is this ADHD? Or is this what living with unhealed trauma looks like?

I don’t have the answer yet — and maybe that’s okay.

But I do know this: my body is trying to tell me something. My nervous system is waving a flag, asking me to listen. I can’t ignore it anymore.

Maybe it’s time to stop pushing the questions away and start gently exploring them — with compassion, with curiosity, and without shame.

Because I deserve to feel safe in stillness. Be calm. Feel peace.
I deserve to be present with my children without being hijacked by my own mind. I deserve to understand what’s really going on beneath the surface.

And maybe, just maybe — that understanding will be the beginning of healing.

Maybe I can forgive. Accept that I'm not perfect and that life is a working progress.

So long as I'm moving forward, I'm good. In fact, better than good, I'm bloody great!