ADHD Is Normal—And That Changes Everything About How We Should Approach It
A neuroscientist's case for why we need to stop pathologizing cognitive differences and start optimizing individual brains
The Revolutionary Reframe
Here's something that might surprise you: ADHD isn't a disorder. It's a normal human variant, like being left-handed or having brown eyes. This isn't feel-good psychology—it's what the neuroscience actually shows us.
I'm Dr. Andrew Hill, and over 25 years of mapping more than 25,000 brains, I've learned something crucial: the question isn't whether you "have" ADHD. The question is whether your particular brain configuration is working for your goals.
This distinction matters more than you might think. It changes everything about how we understand neurodivergence, how we approach treatment, and most importantly, how people relate to themselves.
What ADHD Actually Is (And Isn't)
ADHD is a natural phenotype—a recurring pattern of human brain organization that shows up consistently across populations and cultures. Like other human variants, it comes with trade-offs. You get certain advantages (often creativity, pattern recognition, crisis management skills) and certain challenges (typically sustained attention, executive function, emotional regulation).
The key insight: ADHD brains aren't broken. They're different.
When I map an ADHD brain, I typically see specific patterns: underactivity in the prefrontal cortex, differences in the anterior cingulate, altered connectivity in the frontoparietal attention networks. But here's what's crucial—these aren't pathological states. They're alternative configurations that create different cognitive strengths and vulnerabilities.
Some people in the neuroscience space claim ADHD is caused by trauma. That's not accurate. ADHD is a normal variant of human neurodevelopment. However—and this is important—it does make you more vulnerable to certain stressors and challenges. The ADHD brain processes the world differently, which can create difficulties in environments designed for neurotypical attention patterns.
The Diagnosis Trap
Here's where conventional psychiatry gets it wrong: people are not their diagnoses.
I don't approach clients with "Oh my god, you have ADD." I approach them with "Would you like to sustain your attention better?" The difference is profound. One framework pathologizes; the other empowers.
The diagnostic model starts with symptom lists and tries to fit people into categories. But brains are too weird for this approach. When I look at brain data, I start with the actual physiology—what networks are over- or under-active—and extrapolate from there what might be happening experientially.
For example, I might see excessive beta waves in the posterior cingulate cortex, which does environmental sampling and threat evaluation. This could mean heightened rumination and anxiety. But it could also mean someone is a skilled emergency room nurse whose brain has trained itself for hypervigilance. Context matters.
The Real Question: What Are Your Goals?
Instead of asking "Do you have ADHD?", I ask: "What are your goals around that brain of yours?"
- Does your current cognitive style work for you?
- Do you want to be more focused?
- Are you suffering, or just different?
- What would optimal look like for your specific situation?
This reframe is liberating. Suddenly, you're not a patient with a disorder—you're someone with a particular brain configuration exploring optimization options.
The Neuroscience of Difference
Let me get specific about what I see in ADHD brains, because understanding the mechanisms changes how you relate to the experience.
Prefrontal Underactivity: Most ADHD brains show reduced activity in the prefrontal cortex, particularly during sustained attention tasks. This region handles executive functions—working memory, cognitive flexibility, inhibitory control. When it's underactive, you get the classic ADHD presentation: difficulty with sustained attention, impulsivity, challenges with complex planning.
Default Mode Network Differences: The brain's "idle" state—called the default mode network—behaves differently in ADHD. Instead of quietly humming in the background, it often stays more active during focused tasks, creating that sense of mental noise or racing thoughts.
Frontoparietal Network Connectivity: The networks responsible for directing and sustaining attention show altered connectivity patterns. This isn't "broken"—it's a different configuration that may excel at broad environmental monitoring but struggle with narrow, sustained focus.
Reward System Variations: ADHD brains often have differences in dopamine signaling, particularly in the reward prediction pathways. This creates the need for higher stimulation levels to maintain engagement—what looks like "hyperactivity" or "sensation-seeking."
The Power of Seeing Your Brain
One of the most profound moments in my work happens when I show people their brain data. They often cry—not from sadness, but from relief and validation.
"Oh my god, yes. Thank you. Look, it's real."
Seeing your brain creates a different relationship with yourself. Suddenly, your struggles aren't character flaws or moral failings—they're neurophysiological patterns that can be understood and, often, trained.
I've shown people their concussions, their tinnitus, their OCD patterns. The response is consistent: relief at finally having an explanation that makes sense, followed by curiosity about what can be changed.
Neurodivergence as Human Variation
Here's something fascinating about neurodivergence: being weird is probably more normal than being normal. By definition, only about two-thirds of people fall into the "average" range on any given measure. The rest are outliers in various directions.
And here's the kicker: the more unusual your brain, the more unusual it tends to be in multiple ways. You tend to get clusters of differences—left-handedness, perfect pitch, high creativity, anxiety, sensory sensitivities. This isn't random. These patterns cohere in recognizable ways.
I see this constantly: the gifted but anxious individual with executive function challenges and heightened emotional sensitivity. That's a recognizable human variant that shows up repeatedly. It's unusual—maybe 10-15% of the population—but it's been persistent across cultures and throughout history. That suggests it serves some adaptive function.
The "Superpower" Question
People often ask if neurodivergence comes with superpowers. The answer is: sometimes, and it depends.
Pattern matching, creative problem-solving, crisis management, out-of-the-box thinking—these are genuine strengths that often accompany ADHD-type brains. But they're not guaranteed, and they usually come with trade-offs.
The key is understanding your specific configuration. What networks in your brain are over-developed? What areas might be under-resourced? How can you design your environment and activities to play to your strengths while managing your challenges?
When Difference Becomes Disorder
So when does neurodivergence become a problem requiring intervention? Simple: when it's in the way.
If your attention patterns, emotional sensitivity, or executive function challenges are preventing you from achieving your goals or causing significant suffering, then optimization becomes valuable. But the goal isn't to become "normal"—it's to function optimally within your particular configuration.
This is why I focus on brain training rather than medication as a first-line approach. Neurofeedback allows people to literally train their brain networks, strengthening underactive areas and calming overactive ones. It's like physical therapy for your brain—you're not changing what you are, you're optimizing how you function.
The Ancient Wisdom Connection
Here's something that surprises people: most of the interventions that help neurodivergent brains aren't high-tech. Meditation, breathwork, movement practices, sleep optimization—the stuff humans have been doing for thousands of years.
Why? Because these practices train the fundamental brain networks that underlie attention, emotional regulation, and executive function. They work regardless of your starting neurology.
The difference is that now we can measure what's happening. We can see which networks are being strengthened, track changes in connectivity patterns, and optimize the training based on individual brain configurations.
The Future of Neurodivergence
I believe we're moving toward a more nuanced understanding of human brain variation. Instead of pathologizing differences, we're learning to optimize them. Instead of trying to force square pegs into round holes, we're designing better systems that work with different cognitive styles.
This doesn't mean ignoring real suffering or avoiding intervention when it's needed. It means starting from a place of understanding rather than pathology, agency rather than victimhood.
Your brain is not broken. It's different. And difference, optimized, can be extraordinary.
What This Means for You
If you identify with ADHD traits, here's what I want you to consider:
-
You are not your diagnosis. You're a person with a particular brain configuration exploring optimization options.
-
Different doesn't mean deficient. Your brain may have genuine strengths that conventional assessments miss.
-
Training is possible. Brain networks can be strengthened and optimized regardless of your starting point.
-
Context matters. The same brain that struggles in a traditional office might excel in a creative or crisis-driven environment.
-
You have agency. Understanding your brain gives you tools to make informed decisions about optimization, medication, lifestyle, and environment.
The goal isn't to become someone else. It's to become the most optimal version of who you already are.
Dr. Andrew Hill is a neuroscientist specializing in brain optimization through neurofeedback. He holds a PhD in Cognitive Neuroscience from UCLA and is the founder of Peak Brain Institute, where he has conducted over 25,000 brain mapping sessions. His work focuses on helping people understand and optimize their unique brain configurations rather than pathologizing cognitive differences.