22/02/2025
Is ADHD a Disorder—or a Symptom of a Traumatised Society?
We’re seeing a rise in ADHD and neurodivergence, but instead of just diagnosing individuals, shouldn’t we be questioning why so many people are struggling to focus, regulate, and thrive? What if ADHD isn’t just a personal issue but a collective adaptation to a world that keeps us in chronic fight, flight, freeze, or fawn?
This isn’t about dismissing anyone’s lived experience or the very real challenges that come with ADHD and neurodivergence. Rather, it’s an invitation to explore the idea that we are living in a highly traumatised world, and when a system is overwhelmed, dysregulated, and under constant stress, it naturally creates more of these patterns. If more and more people are struggling with focus, executive function, and emotional regulation, perhaps the issue isn’t just within the individual, but in the environment itself.
What makes this even more complex is that dysregulation doesn’t always have an obvious source. Many people look at their adult lives and see relatively stable family relationships, making it difficult to pinpoint where the disruption occurred. But when we step back and look at the bigger picture, we see that we’re living in a time where family systems are collapsing, and many of us are raising children alone, without the kind of community support that has been essential to human development for thousands of years. In many indigenous cultures, children are raised by an entire network of caregivers, surrounded by multiple adults who share the responsibility of nurturing and guiding them. This collective model provides a sense of safety and belonging, allowing children to develop in an environment that supports their nervous system rather than overwhelms it.
In contrast, modern life isolates us. Parents are expected to do everything alone, balancing work, financial pressures, and emotional support, often with very little help. Children sense this stress, absorbing the unspoken fears and anxieties of the adults around them. Even if we don’t remember moments of trauma, subtle shifts away from our natural state as evolved, interconnected beings have long-term effects on how we regulate, relate, and process the world. When we live in a system that forces us to function in ways that are out of sync with our biology, the nervous system struggles to adapt, and what we call ADHD or neurodivergence may actually be symptoms of a deeper disconnect.
Trauma isn’t just a psychological wound—it’s stored in the body, shaping our nervous system and brain function. When trauma is unprocessed, it keeps the body sending stress signals to the brain, affecting the prefrontal cortex, which governs focus and impulse control, the amygdala, which processes threat and emotional regulation, and the dopamine pathways, which influence motivation and reward. When these systems are dysregulated, the mind struggles to focus, emotions feel overwhelming, and impulsivity takes over. Many of the traits we label as ADHD are actually just symptoms of an overstimulated, dysregulated nervous system.
But this isn’t just about individual trauma—it’s about the collective. Our entire society is structured in a way that keeps us trapped in a stress response. We are overstimulated by technology, disconnected from our natural rhythms, and conditioned to suppress our emotions rather than process and integrate them. Many children grow up in environments that don’t support true emotional safety, leaving their nervous systems wired for hypervigilance rather than ease. We live in a world that rewards productivity over presence, urgency over regulation, and distraction over embodiment. So is it really a surprise that so many people are struggling to focus, self-regulate, and function?
What if neurodivergence isn’t a disorder but an evolutionary signal? A sign that the world we’ve created is no longer sustainable for the way human beings are meant to exist? Instead of trying to force people to fit into a broken system, we should be asking how we create a world where our nervous systems feel safe, where we have the space to restore alignment, and where we remember the tools that allow us to process and integrate rather than suppress and survive.
Healing starts with us. The more we find ways to regulate ourselves—spending time offline, reconnecting with nature, slowing down, clearing space in our diaries, nourishing real connections, and honoring our need for stillness—the more we create a ripple effect that helps others shift out of survival and back into presence. The rise in ADHD may not be a disorder at all—it may be a wake-up call.
What do you think? Are we treating a disorder, or are we missing the bigger picture?
