“I BECAME extremely suicidal, but I have ADHD – so I’m not very good at following through.”
I said this at a corporate training event to a room of bankers, who all stared at me, their mouths wide open in shock.
Leanne Maskell has both autism and ADHD, known as AuDHD[/caption]
She says she lived for years feeling like her ‘brain was on fire’[/caption]
“Nobody ever laughs at that joke, but maybe it’s because I only did half a stand-up comedy course,” I say.
The room erupts into laughter, which is exactly what’s needed to talk about the uncomfortable reality of autism and ADHD, where the suicide risks are five to seven times higher than the general population.
No, it is not a laughing matter. But when I look back on my life, where I’ve spent so much of it wishing I would die, there’s not much else I can do.
I quit comedy when the teacher said I should make people laugh with me, not at me. Unfortunately, my brain doesn’t come with that setting.
I’d only joined because I kept getting requests for public speaking, despite being terrified of it, and thought nothing could be worse than stand-up comedy.
That’s an example of how my brain works with AuDHD (autism and ADHD).
Instead of straightforward solutions, it likes to create incredibly complicated, squiggly tangles of lines to get to its destination.
For example, at the age of seven, I tried to take my own life for the first time.
I found a pack of indigestion tablets in the kitchen cupboard and hoped this would switch off my brain.
It didn’t, and I woke up to the usual barrage of 50 simultaneous channels of thoughts screaming at me – all invisible to the outside world.
As a teenager, I discovered what I thought was the solution: alcohol.
Nearly every weekend, I could be found passed out in clubs or on pavements, overstimulated from booze, lights, noise, and crowds.
I hated clubbing with a passion, but I loved the ability to become somebody else, and the highs I’d get from sneaking out.
One night, a man who was a decade older than me picked me up off the floor of a club.
When he found me on social media later and asked for a coffee the next day, I happily went along in the hope of friendship.
A year later, I was smashing my head against the wall repeatedly in an attempt to kill myself.
I couldn’t understand how this person had so easily taken over every aspect of my life. It felt like my soul had been kidnapped, and it was all my fault.
I was left with a giant green bruise on my forehead, and a determination to get out, which I eventually did – but I was lucky.
Nine out of 10 autistic women have experienced sexual violence, and on average, it takes seven attempts to leave an abusive relationship.
GOODBYE LETTERS
I graduated with straight As and a law degree, leaving my teachers questioning the class on whether I’d cheated.
I hadn’t, but the ability to pass exams isn’t a particularly useful skill for the ‘real world’ – especially when you’re not sure how you did it.
After losing the structure of full-time education, my life descended into what can only be described as season seven of a terrible television show.
Each morning, I’d wake up terrified of what stupid decision I’d make that day – from moving house to moving country or starting new relationships or ending existing ones.
I was desperate for stability, but every slither of it I managed to get, I’d destroy a few days later, subconsciously self-sabotaging my attempts.
So, I created myself a routine, the only sense of control I could find in an uncontrollable world.
Every single day, I’d obsessively research suicide methods and outcomes. Ironically, it was actually autism that saved me, because I had to be 100 per cent sure that it would work.
As it turns out, it’s actually really hard to kill yourself with this level of certainty.
The Vogue model and qualified lawyer wants to help others who are struggling[/caption]
She was desperate for stability but would constantly ‘self-sabotage’[/caption]
I’d write goodbye letters and tear them into tiny pieces a few hours later, worried that my housemate would find them.
I must have written hundreds over the 32 years that my heart has continued to beat against my will.
I didn’t know how to explain it to anyone, as I just felt like a selfish, attention-seeking drama queen – so I didn’t. Until one day, I jumped out of a plane.
When the parachute opened and I landed safely, I burst into tears, because I was still alive.
This was quite a shock to my then-boyfriend, and the instructor I’d been strapped to!
I could no longer hide it. Soon after, I found myself in a psychiatrist’s office, finally prepared to be sectioned.
Instead, they told me I had ADHD. I burst out laughing and said I had a real problem – not one made up for naughty kids.
After a meltdown in an airport where I was seconds away from smashing the fire alarm, and genuinely believed I was about to be arrested, I realised that things couldn’t get any worse – I needed help
Leanne Maskell
After a three-week holiday turned into a year abroad in a physically abusive relationship with a stranger whose house I’d impulsively moved into, I realised that maybe there was something to it.
I returned to finish the assessment aged 25, extremely embarrassed. From that point on, my life transformed.
I didn’t know anything about ADHD other than the medication stopped me from wanting to kill myself, so whatever it was doing, it seemed to work.
For the first time, I was able to get and stay in a ‘real’ job – for two and a half years.
The external confirmation that I was likely to quit meant that I took out a fixed rental contract on a flat I couldn’t afford over the road from the office, feeling like I’d successfully ‘hacked’ my ADHD.
However, handcuffing yourself to a job isn’t sustainable, and pills don’t give skills.
She was diagnosed with AuDHD in her 20s[/caption]
But she had to pay for a private assessment as the NHS waiting list was seven years long[/caption]
I researched everything I could about ADHD, trying to find a ‘fix’.
Believe it or not, six years ago, there was hardly any information on the internet that didn’t apply to young schoolboys.
Then, two things happened.
Firstly, I discovered an ADHD coach, who helped me to realise that I could create a life that worked for me, instead of trying to be ‘normal’.
Secondly, my new GP told me their waiting list for assessments was seven years long, which I couldn’t believe.
If I hadn’t been at the point of taking my own life, I wouldn’t have paid thousands of pounds for the assessment – but people shouldn’t have to reach this point of desperation.
The rise of AuDHD
UNTIL 2013, autism and ADHD were thought to be mutually exclusive.
But now, experts say both conditions can coexist in the same person.
A study by Duke University found that up to half of people diagnosed with autism also exhibit ADHD symptoms, and the characteristics of autism are present in two thirds of people with ADHD.
Overlapping traits include sensory differences, intense focus on specific interests, rejection sensitivity, sleep issues, and emotional dysregulation.
Diagnosis of both conditions together are thought to be on the rise, perhaps due to more people sharing their stories of what is now being dubbed ‘AuDHD’ on social media.
The contradictory traits of AuDHD can cause serious mental health challenges. Patients are up to 13 times more likely to try to take their own life than the general population, according to University of Cambridge researchers.
One in four women with ADHD also attempt suicide, and accidental death is also common, NHS data shows.
If you need advice, speak to your GP or contact the charity ADHD UK. For urgent help, call the Samaritans on 116 123. You are not alone.
So, I decided to publish what had become the book, ADHD: an A to Z, my mortification being quickly replaced with overwhelm at how many people messaged to say it helped them.
I handed in my dignity and quit my job, training as an ADHD Coach myself, presenting to directors of the World Health Organization, and training companies such as Disney.
Doing work I loved meant that I became addicted to it. My medication enabled me to stop entering harmful situations, but also made me a ‘human doing’, rarely seeing anybody outside of work.
When I did attempt to leave the house, I had panic attacks, crying hysterically in public for reasons I couldn’t understand.
Feeling empty, I went to a Workaholics Anonymous meeting, only to find that half of the people there also had ADHD.
When a colleague handed in their notice, I became more determined to end my life than ever before, unable to cope with the change in routine.
From coaching multiple people who were autistic and ADHD, I suspected that I was autistic.
I didn’t see the point in a formal diagnosis, but after a meltdown in an airport where I was seconds away from smashing the fire alarm, and genuinely believed I was about to be arrested, I realised that things couldn’t get any worse – I needed help.
Leanne has written a second book, AuDHD: Blooming Differently[/caption]
My therapist of several years had told me there was no way I could be autistic because I was nothing like the autistic children she worked with.
As it turns out, I am very autistic. The 80 pages I received confirming my diagnosis aged 31 explained everything.
The discovery of being both ADHD and autistic was eye-opening. I finally understood why my brain has always felt like it’s on fire, because it’s fighting against itself.
One part of my brain craves structure. The other craves escape.
One part scripts conversations in advance. The other ignores the script and orders tequila shots.
One part is terrified of change. The other seeks constant novelty.
I realised how my entire life was made up of these battles, that nobody else could see – even me. How working so hard to appear ‘normal’ isn’t actually normal.
Leanne published her first book, ADHD: an A to Z, in 2022[/caption]
Understanding AuDHD meant I finally had answers about why it’s always felt that everybody else has the ‘guidebook to life’ that I missed out on – so I wrote my own, AuDHD: Blooming Differently.
ADHD and autism have only been able to be diagnosed in the same person since 2013, meaning that thousands of people are still fighting battles that they don’t have the words for.
A diagnosis isn’t an excuse – it’s an explanation, a tool to take personal responsibility and ‘name it to tame it’.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that people who think differently don’t need to be ‘fixed’ – they need to be understood.
In a world that makes you feel like you don’t belong, self-understanding isn’t just survival – it’s the key to finally living.
Leanne Maskell, who has appeared in Vogue, is the author of AuDHD: Blooming Differently and founder and director of ADHD coaching company ADHD Works.
You’re Not Alone
EVERY 90 minutes in the UK a life is lost to suicide
It doesn’t discriminate, touching the lives of people in every corner of society – from the homeless and unemployed to builders and doctors, reality stars and footballers.
It’s the biggest killer of people under the age of 35, more deadly than cancer and car crashes.
And men are three times more likely to take their own life than women.
Yet it’s rarely spoken of, a taboo that threatens to continue its deadly rampage unless we all stop and take notice, now.
That is why The Sun launched the You’re Not Alone campaign.
The aim is that by sharing practical advice, raising awareness and breaking down the barriers people face when talking about their mental health, we can all do our bit to help save lives.
Let’s all vow to ask for help when we need it, and listen out for others… You’re Not Alone.
If you, or anyone you know, needs help dealing with mental health problems, the following organisations provide support:
- CALM, www.thecalmzone.net, 0800 585 858
- Heads Together,www.headstogether.org.uk
- HUMEN www.wearehumen.org
- Mind, www.mind.org.uk, 0300 123 3393
- Papyrus, www.papyrus-uk.org, 0800 068 41 41
- Samaritans,www.samaritans.org, 116 123
She ‘obsessively’ research suicide methods and outcomes for years[/caption]
After leaving full-time education, she says her life descended into chaos[/caption]
Leanne found herself in an abusive relationship with someone she barely knew[/caption]
‘Self-understanding isn’t just survival – it’s the key to finally living,’ she says[/caption]
