A day in the life of an ADHD girl
ADHD isn’t just your daughter’s ability to pay attention in school or stay still. It’s a complex neurodevelopmental disorder. It affects her mentally, physically, emotionally, and socially—her ADHD experiences shape her life. You see the outward signs: forgetfulness, inattention, emotional outbursts, restlessness, etc. However, underneath that, your daughter struggles with the results of those symptoms. She internalizes feelings of failure, frustration, and self-doubt.
“You think you’re the problem. You think you’re the person who just can’t remember all the stuff and can’t keep up—or you’re not trying hard enough. Even though I triple-checked something, it still wasn’t correct, and I thought there must be something broken here.”
~Patricia Sung, ADHD coach
So, what does a day in the life of an ADHD girl look and feel like through her eyes? Let’s take a peek. We’ll follow the days of two young girls with ADHD, Maria and Kenya.
Maria’s ADHD story: In my thoughts from breakfast to bedtime—A day in my life with inattentive ADHD
Maria is 7-years-old, and she has inattentive ADHD. She struggles to focus and is distractible and forgetful.
Maria’s ADHD Morning Mix-Up (forgetfulness, losing track of time, distractions)
I vaguely hear Mama calling from the kitchen, “Maria, brush your teeth, grab your backpack, and come downstairs!” I walk into the bathroom, pick up my toothbrush, and squeeze some toothpaste on it. But then I see my little doll—I’ve been looking for her forever! How’d she end up here? I pick her up and take her to the toy bin. After all, Mom is always telling me to pick up my toys. This’ll be quick.
“Maria, it’s time to go!” I dash downstairs, clutching a different doll. Mom throws up her hands. “Where’s your backpack? Did you even brush your teeth? We’re going to be late again!” Darn, I forgot. I was only going to play for a second. I wince and turn back up the stairs. I hate disappointing Mom. Why can’t I just do things like I’m supposed to?
Once at school–daydreamy doodles (distractibility, difficulty problem-solving and starting tasks)
I write my name carefully at the top of my math worksheet. It’s not my favorite subject. Not at all. Pencil in hand, I glance out the window. I notice the small pond at the edge of the school yard. I wonder if there are any tadpoles or frogs in the water. I draw a tiny frog and heart on my paper.
Suddenly, I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Five minutes left, Maria.” My stomach drops. Five minutes? What happened? I look at my worksheet and see dozens of little doodles—hearts, stars, and squiggles. What was I supposed to be doing? I try to focus, but everything blurs together. I can’t remember what I was supposed to do, but it’s too late anyway. “I’m so stupid,” I think to myself, reluctantly handing my paper to the teacher.
Lunchtime and my lost lunchbox (forgetfulness, difficulty keeping track of belongings)
I’m so excited! I’ve been waiting all day to show off my brand-new Paw Patrol lunchbox and thermos. I go to the lunchbox shelf to grab it. But…wait. Where is it? I don’t see it! I look again. It’s still not there. Did I leave it on the bus? Did someone take it?
Frantically, I search my cubby, under my chair, and then I see it. Duh. I put it inside my desk this morning because I wanted to keep it close. I yank it out, but lunchtime is almost over. My stomach is grumbling, but I’m too upset to eat. Why don’t I remember where I put things? Everyone else can! I start to cry as my teacher sits beside me and says, “Tell me about your lunchbox! Who’s on it?”
“It’s too late. My surprise is ruined,” I sob, swiping at my tears.
The homework detour (disorganization, distractibility, difficulty starting and sticking with uninteresting tasks)
After school, I sit down with my books. “I’ll leave you to it,” Mama says.
Okay. First, I need a pencil. I dig through my backpack, but it’s a little crowded and messy. Instead of a pencil, I pull out a half-eaten pack of crackers. Actually, I am kind of hungry. I go to the kitchen for a paper towel and a glass of milk. Then I hear Jingles, my cat. He’s doing figure eights around my legs and meowing. I pet him for a while and then remember that Mom asked me to clean his litter box! I abandon my snack and trudge off to change it.
At dinner, Mama asks if I had any trouble with my homework. Wait. Homework? Oh no! I completely forgot about my homework. She’s upset; I can see it. But then I remember changing the kitty litter, and I tell Mom about that. It didn’t help my case, though. “It doesn’t take that long; why didn’t you go back to your homework?” she persists. I don’t have a good answer. Now, she has to sit with me to make sure I get my homework done. She seems annoyed, and I feel bad. Why can’t I just do what I’m supposed to do? I don’t understand why I always do something else instead.
Impromptu bedtime pajama party (distraction, difficulty following multiple steps )
“Maria, get ready for bed! I’ll be up in ten minutes to check on you.”
Bedtime already? I go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and look at myself in the mirror. I make silly faces for a few minutes, then remember that I need to put on my pajamas! I grab two sets from my drawer and show them to Bennie, my stuffed bunny. “Which one should I wear?” I ask. But he isn’t sure. Bennie the Bunny has to ask Gretel the Goose.
A few minutes later, Mom walks in. I hear her sigh. I’m still in my school clothes and surrounded by all my stuffed animals. “Maria!” she sighs. I look up at her, blinking. “Oh. Right. Pajamas! Sorry, I was trying to decide which ones to wear! I did brush my teeth, though!” Mama smiles at me.
I close my eyes as Mama starts my bedtime story. But then my eyes pop open. I forgot to do my homework—wait, no. Mom helped me finish after dinner. False alarm. I snuggle deeper under the blankets and try to relax.
Kenya’s ADHD story: restlessness, reactivity, and remorse—a day in my life with combined-type ADHD
Kenya is 8 years old, and like Maria, she has trouble focusing and can be distractible and forgetful. Kenya also has overt signs of hyperactivity. She is restless and fidgety, overly talkative, and emotional.
Kenya’s ADHD morning madness: dreaming and dressing
I roll over in bed when I hear Mom say it’s time to wake up. I’m still sleepy, but only for a second. I have to tell her about my cool dream! There were puppies in space! I start to tell her about it, but she says not now and tells me to get dressed. Ugh, why can’t I talk about it now? But Mom is already halfway down the hall. I grab purple leggings, my unicorn tee-shirt, and my favorite tutu. I was pulling on a sock when I remembered I needed Mom to sign something from my teacher. I race downstairs and yell for her. She exclaims, “Kenya! Why aren’t you dressed yet?” I look down and see that I’m wearing pajamas, my tutu, and one fuzzy sock. Oops. “I have to have you sign this!” She sighed, “Sign what?” “This paper from school!” She looks at me, and I realize I didn’t grab the paper. “Just a sec.” I start rummaging through my backpack. It’s in here…I think. Anyway, this is the perfect time to tell her about my dream!
Schooltime and a recess meltdown (emotional outbursts, catastrophizing)
I tap my foot as I glare at the clock, willing it to go faster. I’m so tired of sitting, sitting, sitting! It’s been such a long, boring morning. I think my teacher is saying something, but I don’t hear what; I’m waiting for the bell to ring.
RIIIIING!
Finally! Recess! I run as fast as I can to the swings. But, they’re all taken. And by kindergarteners!
“Hey, can I have a turn?” I ask one kid.
“No,” he says.
I asked another kid. “No.”
They all say no. This is so unfair! I stomp my feet and glare at them. They should take turns. “You’re all babies! Give me a turn!” I shout, filled with anger. My face is burning, and my eyes fill with tears. My teacher comes over and kneels beside me. “Kenya, how about the monkey bars? Or joining that game of tag?” she asks. I shake my head. “I just want to play on the swings!” I wail. No one understands; I don’t want to do that other stuff. I just want to play on the swings! My recess is ruined. I wish I could go home.
Science project: getting in hot water with hot potato potato style (impulsivity, restlessness, fidgeting, talking too much)
Well, recess was a bust, but today’s science project sounds awesome! We’re going to grow potato plants—I can’t wait! Markers, potatoes, and toothpicks are at the ready. My teacher hands me a Mason jar and starts giving instructions. I am sort of listening as I hop out of my chair to grab some extra markers, but the teacher gives me a look. I know that look; I get it a lot. I plop back down, bouncing my legs under the desk and twirling toothpicks in my hands. These instructions take forever!
Boring! I try starting a game of “hot potato.” “Here you go,” I whisper as I toss a potato to a classmate, but it falls to the ground. He frowns at me and tells me to be quiet and listen. No one wants to play “Hot Potato” with me. I thought planting potatoes would be fun, but it’s SO BORING! I start to get out of my seat again, but the teacher notices and comes over. “Please, stay on task, Kenya.” I sigh, staring at my potato. When will this be over so I can go home?
After school–a busy bus ride home (difficulty controlling impulses, doesn’t ask permission or think before acting)
I climb onto the bus, pretending I’m scaling a mountain. Mom says I have a good imagination. “Hurry up, Kenya,” the driver says. Oops! I scramble to my favorite seat in the middle of the bus. It’s the best place to talk with everyone around. Oh, there’s my friend Sandy; she usually doesn’t ride the bus! I scoot across the aisle to sit with her.
“Kenya! That’s one!” Mr. Dan, the bus driver, warns. He keeps count of how many times I do something against the rules. I shrink down a little in my seat. “Sorry!” I want to show Sandy my new colored pencils, but I left my backpack where I was sitting before. I stand up.
“Two!”
Ugh. Okay, fine. I sit back down. I hate the bus rules because I always forget them! I get in trouble all day, no matter how hard I try to be good. I turn back to Sandy, but suddenly, Mr. Dan shouts, “Kenya! Front of the bus, now!”
I was standing up again! I groan and start to argue with him. But Mr. Dan gives me a look–that look I’m always getting from adults. I sigh dramatically and slowly trudge forward. Everyone on the bus is laughing and shaking their heads, saying, “Kenya’s always getting in trouble.” I’m really good at acting like I don’t care, but I feel so embarrassed and hurt inside. This stinks. I stink.
After school friendship falling out (emotional outburst, reactivity, rejection sensitivity)
After school, I got to play with my friend Ashley and her neighbor Sarah. We were having so much fun playing with Ashley’s stuffed animals. Then, I have an idea for a tea party. But Ashley says, “No, that’s a stupid idea.” My face starts burning. “It’s not stupid; you’re stupid!” I shoot back. My emotions were so BIG. I continue shouting, “I hate this game, and I don’t want to play with you anymore!” I kick at her favorite stuffed elephant. “Fine!” she shouts in return, pulling the elephant out of my reach. Then she and Sarah started ignoring me and gave me the silent treatment! I tried to get them to play with me again, but they ignored me until my mother came to drive me home.
Mom asks me what happened. But I’m not sure. I don’t know why I got so upset. I mean, we didn’t have to have a tea party, even though it was a great idea. I just got so mad when she said my idea was stupid. I didn’t mean to say she was stupid, but I was just so angry. Why did I have to say I didn’t want to play with them? Why do I say stuff that I don’t mean? Mom says I can be “unreasonable.” I didn’t mean to start a fight. But now they hate me! I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be unreasonable, but I don’t even know what that means. I just want kids to like me! I wish I was different.
Today was the worst day ever.
Putting the pieces together: a common picture
Do these stories sound familiar to what happens in your household? If so, you’re not alone. These are everyday experiences for girls with undiagnosed ADHD. The disorder plays a role in everything—from making friends to handling schoolwork and even going to bed. If your daughter’s days sound anything like Kenya’s and Maria’s, it’s time to look deeper. It’s time to explore a possible ADHD diagnosis.
With undiagnosed ADHD, her daily struggles will continue and compound as she gets older. But if your daughter has a proper diagnosis and support, she’ll learn how to manage her symptoms. The sooner your daughter gets the help she needs, the better. She’ll develop self-compassion and won’t have to suffer through the lonely years of self-doubt and frustration that most undiagnosed ADHD girls endure.
Think you see signs of ADHD in your young daughter? Compare her symptoms with FINDtheADHDgirl’s free ADHD symptoms in girls checklist. While the checklist isn’t a diagnosis, it’s a quick and easy reference tool to quickly screen for ADHD behaviors in your daughter.
Co-Authors
Alex Alcon
Alex Alcon, RN, Freelance nurse content and copywriter, owner of RN2Pen LLC
Cynthia Hammer, MSW
Cynthia Hammer, MSW, is an ADHD advocate helping girls get timely diagnoses. She’s the founder of FINDtheADHDgirls, Executive Director of the Inattentive ADHD Coalition, and author of Living with Inattentive ADHD.