People often assume that academic success and mental health challenges can’t exist side-by-side. I wish it were that simple.

When I was in kindergarten, I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). Teachers recommended a specialist after complaints that I spent class time rolling around on the rug instead of sitting “criss-cross applesauce,” calling out impulsively during class, and — what they called the final straw — chewing my pencils when bored. 

The diagnosis felt meaningless. The doctor offered only two options: medication or encouraging my already strict parents to be even stricter. My family refused to medicate a young child, so they chose the latter. While I had subpar accommodations in elementary school, by middle school, I was left to “thug it out.”

Throughout my education, I struggled. Writing essays was especially hard; I procrastinated and started new sentences without finishing the previous ones. I scored well on the SAT and Advanced Placement (AP) exams, but I never finished a standardized test. I always completed my schoolwork and earned good grades, but part of me wondered how much more successful I could’ve been if focusing came as naturally to me as it seemed to for my peers. 

I had completely forgotten about my diagnosis until my mother revealed it to me during my senior year of high school. Suddenly, everything clicked. I wasn’t just being dramatic or overly talkative; I was neurodivergent and processed things differently. But because I had managed to succeed so far, I assumed I could handle college without accommodations.  

That worked for a while. But this year, with an extra course load and tougher classes, I was overwhelmed and struggling to keep up. I realized I needed real support. 

Seeking help was disheartening. The psychiatrist I met with was over 30 minutes late and asked only two questions: “How are your grades?” and “Do you drink or do drugs?” 

His question comes with significant background. ADHD diagnoses are rising, especially among children. According to a study in the National Library of Medicine, at least 25% of college students with disabilities are diagnosed with ADHD. These students often face significant psychological, emotional and academic challenges. Many also struggle with higher rates of alcohol and drug use.

But that wasn’t me. I come from a family of immigrants where good grades were the only option. From a young age, the drive to excel was ingrained in me. I also genuinely love learning; it’s just the act of sitting still and focusing that has always been difficult for me. As a practicing Muslim, I don’t drink or use drugs either. 

When I told the psychiatrist this, he cut me off and said, “You having ADHD is impossible. People with ADHD aren’t capable of functioning at the mental capacity you have.”

Startled, I accepted his judgment — after all, he was the doctor. But as time passed, and after seeing a family friend thrive after being properly treated for ADHD, I decided to seek a second opinion.

 This time, I met with a provider who actually listened.
“Is what he said true?” I asked. “Because it felt extremely invalidating to have my struggles dismissed because I do well.”

The nurse responded, “Was he a bit older?” Times are changing, she said, but it’s a common misconception, especially about adult women. ADHD in girls often looks like “chattiness” or being “overly dramatic.” But no, he was completely wrong. She said she gets a lot of college students looking for medication to help, and it’s usually because they spent so long struggling to the point of burnout.
Hearing that was validating. I wasn’t imagining things, and I wasn’t just “anxious.” I was simply someone who had been masking and managing my ADHD for years without support. 

Like my nurse explained, over the past few years, many other college students have begun seeking stimulants to aid with their symptoms. When stimulants were originally identified as the best treatment for ADHD, researchers thought diagnoses would plateau at 3%. In recent years, they have jumped up to 11.4%. However, new research has found there is limited evidence to suggest stimulants reliably treat the symptoms of ADHD.

Since my re-diagnosis, I’ve started trying out stimulant medication. While it hasn’t been a life-changing difference, it has helped me in small but meaningful ways, mainly by making it easier to get started on tasks. 

Managing ADHD is complex. It’s not just about taking a pill and suddenly becoming neurotypical. While I have personally never been registered with Fordham’s Office of Disability Services, I’m grateful that my professors this semester have been understanding. I’ve explained that doodling or occasionally tapping away on my laptop actually helps me focus, even if it doesn’t look “proper” from the outside.

Living with ADHD has taught me that success doesn’t mean that struggle isn’t real. It just means that sometimes, we’re fighting twice as hard to get to the same place, and the least we deserve is to be believed.

Sarah Boumlouka, FCRH ’25, is an English major from Montvale, New Jersey.