Reclaiming My Power: How Focusing on What I Can Control Helps Me Rise Above Stigmatized Beliefs

For most of my life, I spent a lot of energy trying to “fix” things that were never mine to carry. Whether it was other people’s opinions, outdated ideas about ADHD, or stigma-fueled misunderstandings, I used to believe I had to prove my worth despite it all. What I’ve learned instead is that giving my energy to things outside of my control drains the energy I need to take care of myself. So I had to start focusing forward.

This hasn’t been a quick or clean process. It came in layers, often after burnout or a setback. But every time I picked myself back up, I knew better what to let go of and what to hold close. The biggest shift was learning to ask: Is this helping me move forward, or is this holding me hostage?

Letting Go of What’s Not Mine

For a long time, I thought my job was to convince people that ADHD was real. That my struggles weren’t laziness, or carelessness, or a lack of trying hard enough. But you can’t make someone empathetic if they’re committed to misunderstanding you. And that’s not my assignment anymore. Their beliefs? Not my control. My energy? My responsibility.

Stigma—external and internalized—is a loud voice telling us to shrink ourselves. It feeds shame and self-doubt. According to the American Psychiatric Association (n.d.), stigma can make people less likely to seek help or stick with treatment, and it’s linked to worse outcomes overall. That’s a heavy cost, and I’m unwilling to keep paying. I can’t stop stigma on my own, but I can choose to surround myself with people, practices, and spaces that actively work against it.

Focusing on the things in my control

Here’s where the real work began: I started paying closer attention to what helped me—what made my brain feel less like a battleground and more like a place I could live in. That meant learning my patterns, understanding what overstimulates me, and permitting myself to do things differently—even if it looks “weird” or “lazy” to someone else.

I stopped chasing the idea of “normal.” Instead, I asked what works. For me, it’s body doubling, voice notes, timers that play music, and sticky notes that remind me I’m not broken—I’m adapting. It’s protecting my mornings because the first hour of my day sets the tone for everything else. It’s accepting that I need more breaks than others might, and that resting isn’t a reward—it’s maintenance.

According to Barkley (2015), ADHD isn’t just about attention; it’s fundamentally about self-regulation—our ability to manage time, motivation, and emotions. That’s why strategies that work for neurotypical folks don’t always translate. I had to learn to work with my brain instead of against it.

Reframing the Narrative

Every time I show up for myself—especially on hard days—I rewrite the story that ADHD makes me less capable or unreliable. I might not move in straight lines, but I get where I’m going. That counts. The more I focus on what supports my growth, the less power I give to the voices (internal or external) that try to shrink me.

And when I catch myself spiraling about what others think, I return to this: What’s within my control right now? My routines. My boundaries. My self-talk. My willingness to try again.

Healing isn’t just about undoing harm but building systems that sustain us. That’s what I’m doing—slowly, imperfectly, but consistently.

Final Thoughts

I still get frustrated. I still have days when the noise is louder than the truth. But I’ve learned to come back to what grounds me. I focus on what nourishes me, not what drains me. And that choice, over time, has changed everything.

References

American Psychiatric Association. (n.d.). Harmful effects of stigma and discrimination. https://www.psychiatry.org/patients-families/stigma-and-discrimination

Barkley, R. A. (2015). Attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder: A handbook for diagnosis and treatment (4th ed.). Guilford Press.