ADHD across generations: Boys and men growing up: 1966–2026 (Part 2: Now you are 40)

The 1980s is when ADHD really began to enter public debate. Blending social insight with personal voices, Stafford and Wilson offer a considered perspective on how shifting attitudes and the overlapping influences of class, culture and access to care have reshaped the struggles, strengths and self-understanding of boys and men living with ADHD across the generations.

ADHD has long been misunderstood and, for much of history, invisible. Yet its impact on those who live with it is profound and ongoing. This second part of our series charts the evolving landscape of ADHD for those born in 1986 and are now 40 years old. But each of the eras in this series brought its own challenges and breakthroughs, shaped by societal attitudes, available support and cultural change. It’s also important to recognise that these experiences were not evenly distributed; race, class and geography often determined who was punished, who was supported and who was overlooked. Through this journey, readers can gain insight into how ADHD has been experienced, managed and redefined over time – and how hope and resilience continue to grow.

Now you are 40: Growing up in the ADHD debate years

Being born in the mid-1980s, you grew up as ADHD entered public debate – though rarely with kindness. Discussion around ADHD – in education, the psychological professions and the media – often centred on white, middle-class families while boys from working-class or other ethnic and cultural backgrounds were more likely to be branded as disruptive than struggling. The tabloids called it a “modern excuse”, politicians railed against “soft discipline” and in staffrooms teachers muttered about “naughty boys needing a good clip round the ear”. Understanding was minimal – stigma loud.

At school you might have been the bright spark who couldn’t sit still, the one who made teachers laugh and lose patience in the same breath. You were in trouble before you knew you’d done it. You thought you weren’t being difficult, but excuses were unwelcome leading to punishment, detention and unachieved potential. “Focus!” they said. “You’re clever enough to know better.” You learned to perform competence within the rigid and confusing structures that surrounded you. You were painfully sensitive in direct opposition to the Boy Codes you grew up around,* easily sent spiralling in response to perceived rejection or a careless mistake. Fragile self-esteem masked as false confidence became camouflage to avoid the “stupid/lazy/weird” labels so casually attributed to you. You talked fast, improvised, juggled. Underneath, anxiety churned in response.

University or employment brought freedom and chaos as the scaffolding fell away – missed deadlines, forgotten essays or reports, unreturned calls. Perhaps you partied hard, crashed harder. Friends loved your energy then drifted when you disappeared. You instinctively apologised too often, meaning it every time but never sure why it kept happening. Confusion reigned.

By your 20s the initials “ADHD” flickered on screens and in magazines, but adults weren’t supposed to have it. If you mentioned it, people smirked. You began to doubt yourself all over again. Work life in your 30s was a long balancing act reminiscent of school. You produced brilliance in bursts then stalled, procrastinated, or became paralysed by boredom or dread. Emails stacked up like accusations. You told yourself to “just get organised” as though willpower and vitriolic self-criticism could replace wiring. Terms such as “emotional dysregulation”, “short- term/working memory” and “executive function”, or any vocabulary that could soften the edges or ground you, were still alien to you. You were dependable in a crisis yet inconsistent in calm; hard was easy, easy was hard, alongside all the other paradoxes. The guilt was corrosive; the shame of not being able to do things you should just be able to do more deeply embedded. “He’s flaky, so inconsistent,” someone said once, and you believed them.

Now, at 40, exhaustion seeps through everything – the job, your home, the constant noise of screens and the world around you. You wake already behind, chasing lists you never finish. Relationships, money, work, addiction, stability can feel perilous. Coping has become habit, but the strategies wear thin, the mask slipping, not fitting who or where you are now.

What therapy can do

This is where therapy can shift the story. It’s not about curing the past but learning to live honestly with what’s left: to integrate the grief for what might have been, for how hard it didn’t have to be if only you’d known. For those able to access it, therapy offers perspective – a reminder that inconsistency was never moral weakness. It can help to rebuild trust in your own rhythm and bring space for rest and renewal. And for those without formal access to therapy, community, friendship and peer connection can hold that same potential for understanding and change. In a life shaped by pressure and performance, therapy can make the difference between surviving and truly living.

ADHD hasn’t disappeared with age; it’s changed shape, worn grooves into your life. The world still calls for efficiency, yet being human is slower, stranger. Facing patterns decades deep is not easy, but it’s real work – and it’s yours.

In part 3 of this series, we look at what ADHD life is like for men born in 2006. Part 1 can be read here.

 

Reference

* Pollack, William (1999). Real Boys: Rescuing Our Sons From the Myths of Boyhood. New York: Henry Holt & Co.

 

Authors’ note

This piece draws primarily on experiences from white, British, middle-class contexts. ADHD, however, intersects deeply with race, class and gender, shaping who receives understanding and support. We acknowledge those differences and the ongoing need for broader, more inclusive stories.

 

Click the links if you'd like to visit Duncan's therapy website or Adam's therapy listing. Their directory entries for Attention Allies.

 

PREVIOUS BLOG  NEXT BLOG
Published 2 January 2026

 

All rights reserved © Copyright Duncan E. Stafford and Adam Wilson 2026. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the authors of this post is strictly prohibited. Author contact via website Contact page.

Website version and image © Copyright Attention Allies 2026.


© Attention Allies powered by WebHealer

© Images by @archeted