I used to bristle every time someone called ADHD a “superpower.” It felt like a shallow attempt to sugar-coat something that was, for me, often disorienting, disorganized, and deeply frustrating. ADHD, in its raw, unmanaged form, isn’t a superpower. It’s missed appointments, forgotten names, scattered thoughts, and an internal chaos that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it.

And yet, over time — not overnight — I’ve come to realize that while ADHD isn’t inherently magical, certain traits associated with it can be powerful when understood, embraced, and directed with care.

This shift didn’t come from denial or forced positivity. It came from doing the gritty inner work: learning how my mind works, experimenting with structure, and finding meaning in the mess. What I discovered wasn’t a cure, but a reframe — a way to work with my wiring instead of against it.

Harnessing the Unruly

One of the most misunderstood traits of ADHD is hyperfocus. Yes, distractibility is a hallmark of ADHD, but in the right context, the pendulum swings the other way. When something sparks my interest, I can lock in for hours. Time dissolves. Distractions disappear. I’ve found myself researching a topic, writing a strategy, or crafting a creative concept with a level of immersion that feels almost trance-like. This doesn’t happen on command, and it’s not always productive — but when aligned with purpose, it’s powerful.

Hyperfocus has allowed me to master complex problems others shy away from. Not because I’m smarter, but because I can stick with it, digging deeper and looking at angles others might overlook. The challenge, of course, is learning how to get into that zone intentionally — and not just when my brain decides to surprise me with a midnight surge of interest in, say, Renaissance shipbuilding or how bees communicate.

Creativity That Doesn’t Quit

People with ADHD often score high on measures of divergent thinking — the ability to generate many unique solutions to a single problem. That’s certainly been true in my experience. I’m rarely short on ideas. In fact, the challenge is often managing the idea overflow. While this can be overwhelming in some contexts, I’ve learned to use it to my advantage — especially in collaborative or visionary roles where innovation is key.

What used to feel like mental noise, I’ve learned to treat like brainstorming fuel. I carry a notebook or use voice notes to capture random insights throughout the day. Even if 90% go nowhere, the 10% that stick can become game-changing concepts. I’ve had colleagues tell me, “You see things no one else does,” and I’ve come to recognize this as a gift — not in spite of ADHD, but because of it.

Crisis? I’ve Got This.

There’s a unique kind of clarity that descends when a situation falls apart. While many struggle under pressure, I often find myself at my best when things go sideways. The same impulsivity and rapid-fire thinking that can get me into trouble in routine settings becomes a strategic advantage in chaos. I don’t freeze. I move — fast, intuitively, and often with surprising precision.

I’ve been the person who steps in during a client meltdown, the team member who reroutes the plan at the last minute, the one who sees the unexpected path forward. It’s not because I’m calm — my mind is still buzzing — but because years of navigating mental unpredictability have trained me to find footing in the uncertain. Adaptability isn’t just a trait for me; it’s a survival mechanism I’ve turned into a leadership strength.

The Power of Curiosity

Another underappreciated ADHD trait is deep curiosity. When something catches my attention, I don’t just read the headline — I want to understand the full landscape. I’ll watch videos, dig up academic papers, email experts, and become the informal knowledge-hub among peers. I can’t always sustain attention on everything, but when something clicks, it lights a fire.

This has led me to become the “go-to” person in niche areas at work. I’ve built unexpected expertise in areas simply because I couldn’t stop learning. That kind of curiosity-driven mastery isn’t linear — and it doesn’t always fit traditional models — but in a world that increasingly values cross-disciplinary insight and rapid upskilling, it’s been a real asset.

Energy and Momentum

Let’s talk about energy. It’s true that ADHD can sometimes feel like a storm — especially when I’m overwhelmed, overcaffeinated, and underslept. But when channelled intentionally, that energy becomes momentum. I’ve been told my presence lifts the energy of a room, that my enthusiasm helps others feel excited or reengaged.

Spontaneity, once a liability in rigid structures, has become part of my creative edge. It allows me to pivot, challenge stale routines, and inject fresh thinking into stagnating processes. Teams benefit from that — especially in high-change or creative environments. It’s not about being the loudest in the room. It’s about bringing movement where there’s stuckness.

Acknowledging the Hard

Now, I don’t want to paint a one-sided picture. ADHD still trips me up — regularly. I still forget where I parked, space out during meetings, or lose a full morning trying to wrangle my inbox. I still need systems, routines, and support. I’ve learned to give myself grace when the day unravels.

What’s changed is the mindset. I’ve stopped measuring my success by how well I conform to neurotypical standards. Instead, I’ve learned to optimize my environment around the things that work for me. I build flexibility into my routines. I design my workspace to reduce distraction. I collaborate with people who complement my blind spots. And I keep showing up — not in spite of my brain’s quirks, but with them in mind.

Reframing the Narrative

So no, ADHD isn’t a superpower — not in the comic book sense. It’s not effortless, it’s not always productive, and it’s certainly not a universal advantage. But it can be a kind of edge — especially in a world that’s learning to value difference, agility, and innovation over strict compliance and conformity.

What once felt like a flaw has become part of my creative identity. What once held me back now propels me forward — when I honour its rhythms, when I work with it rather than against it.

The question I’ll leave you with is this:
What part of yourself — once judged or misunderstood — could actually hold a strength you haven’t yet fully explored?

We all carry challenges. The magic comes in learning to meet them, shape them, and use them as part of the story we’re here to tell.