For someone with ADD, a condition delightfully exacerbated by menopause, social situations are a complicated dance.

A series of moves and countermoves that seem easily understood by those who are neurotypical, but can be baffling when your brain doesn’t work the same way.

Why did that offend? Why is that weird? What on earth made that person look at me as if I had grown two heads?

This is the darker side of being different. Social interactions can feel like cycling along razor wire and juggling hand grenades, all the while politely asking, “How do you do?”

After years of awkward moments and appalling social decision-making, my brain is on permanent high alert. It’s like having 20 open tabs on your browser.

ADD means forgetting birthdays, overspending, and accumulating piles of paperwork. It means dealing with the annoying combination of wanting to be around people, while finding social gatherings and workplaces overwhelming.

Others may perceive you as scatty, vague, disinterested, salty, and, as they say in writing circles, an unreliable narrator.

It’s frustrating when your brain is jacked up on chaos. But it’s also awesome. You flip through those 20 open tabs at a speed most brains can’t manage, to find that interesting fact, connect those two seemingly unrelated dots, and identify the artist singing that song.

My diversity is challenging, but it is also powerful. I can work extremely fast for long periods while resolving multiple problems simultaneously.

My brain is capable of identifying patterns and connections at extraordinary speeds. It hands me solutions to problems in the space of a conversation. If you want a creative answer to your problem, I’m here for it.

I know that for many neurotypical humans, the onslaught of someone with ADD can be startling.

You’ve met Tigger in person, and they’re making your brain ache. But if you’re a Pooh – calm, quiet, normal – don’t be surprised if we come and stand next to you and your oasis of mental calm. That’s your superpower.

Diversity comes in all shapes and sizes. It is obvious. It is hidden. It is everywhere.

The world is built for the “normal”, but perhaps it is being powered by those who are not. The creatives, the high performers, the brave, and the funny.

For many people, diversity is not a choice. They are just…different. They sit to the left of centre and sparkle in their own way.

Let’s shift the narrative from weird to wonderful. I may be biased, but I think I’m right.