This is not a diabetes related post!
It’s a deeply personal journey I never thought I’d write down, let alone publish.
But if someone out there is going through even a fraction of what I went through for the last two years, feeling flat, hopeless, trapped inside their own mind, and unsure if they can keep going, and this helps them see a new possibility, then it’s worth every ounce of discomfort and vulnerability.
Because when you come back from the darkest place, and you realise the thing missing all along wasn’t willpower or character or resilience, but a baseline level of a brain chemical, the whole narrative changes. And that’s what this is: a story about returning to baseline.
Back in January 2025, I published a blog post called Part 1: The Horrid Triad – Physical Deterioration, Functional Motor Disorder and Depression. It starts with a simple ankle fracture in 2017 that triggered a set of very unfortunate complications leading to a functional motor disorder (FMD). I wrote about the constant bracing, the clenching, the breath-holding, the overanalysis of every step. Finally, the overanalysis of every single movement that spiralled into depression and suicidal ideation.
That article ended on a hopeful note: after learning Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) therapy from my psychologist, some chiropractic care, and re-introducing high doses of caffeine (1000mg a day = 5-10 cups of coffee), I started to feel a shift. I thought I was out of the woods.
But I wasn’t.
What I didn’t understand was that these small changes weren’t addressing the root issue. They were only temporarily replacing the neurochemical scaffolding I’d been propping myself up with for years. From 18 years old, I’d been surviving on a mix of 90 minutes of intense exercise a day, high doses of caffeine, fat loss pills or flu medication containing ephidrine, nicotine pouches, and sheer will.
Not to feel superhuman. Just to feel normal.
When I could no longer get the endorphin hit from exercise due to the functional issues in 2024, my nervous system collapsed. The cracks in my mind, once manageable, widened into something terrifying.
After my January reprieve, it all came crashing down at Easter (April 2025). I was on annual leave and only drinking two cups of coffee a day. The kids were playing football in the garden, and I joined in. But within minutes, the pain returned, and I felt the old movement patterns flood back. My back hurt. My body seized. And just like that, the mental loops switched back on, and I was analysing and controlling every single movement!
I was thinking: Am I breathing into my belly again? Curling my back? Firing the wrong muscles? The panic was instant. The loop was back. The relief I thought I’d found in January evaporated overnight.
And then came the collapse. I spiralled into the darkest depression I’ve ever known. I restarted antidepressants, hoping they would help. They dulled the anxiety slightly but left me emotionally flat. Any movement triggered panic. Thought of moving triggered dread. I couldn’t care for my kids. I couldn’t cook. I couldn’t think.
To fully understand how this has affected my daily life (psychologically, emotionally, socially, and physically), you need to read this.
Part 1: The Horrid Triad – Physical Deterioration, Functional Motor Disorder and Depression
This passage from part 1 details the daily torment!
“I spent countless hours trying to retrain my foot with no success, and it was utterly soul-destroying. There was always this tantalising possibility that, with just a little more effort, I could rewire my movement and everything would improve. But I never knew when—or if—that day would come. I constantly found myself caught in a mental battle: part of me believed it was possible, while another part doubted it would ever happen. I didn’t want to give up because doing so felt like giving away so much—simple joys like playing with my kids, going on amazing holidays, or just taking a walk. Giving up would have meant letting go of all of that.
At the same time, I struggled to truly believe in progress, and the mental torture of that daily conflict was overwhelming. When I tried to satisfy the voice telling me to keep pushing, the voice urging me to stop and let go grew louder. I might have felt a momentary sense of relief by leaning into one side, but soon the other voice would take over and pull me in the opposite direction. It was like being stuck in an endless tug-of-war, unable to find peace, constantly torn between hope and resignation.”
My wife Dani sat with me, gently stroking my head. She was the only thing keeping me anchored. I started taking cold baths to shock my nervous system into feeling something. I cried daily. Often multiple times.
I took a month off work and spent most of it on the sofa, too afraid to walk. I numbed myself with endless TV shows and movies, trying to distract from the fear. When the kids came home from school, I often broke down in front of them, crying because I couldn’t go outside and play.
But they were incredible, they sat with me, watched films, and made me feel less alone. I even played 16 games of Monopoly with Jude (he won 10–6). But even in those moments, I was silently falling apart, obsessing over how I was sitting and fighting back tears the whole time.
And then the suicidal thoughts arrived. Not in a dramatic way, but as a cold, calculated logic. I started bargaining with myself:
- If I win the lottery this week, I’ll pay for world-class rehab.
- I can’t go until after Grace’s netball game.
- I can’t do it without writing letters. So I wrote suicide notes to Dani, Grace and Jude, Isobel, my family, and my best friends.
- Then I made a deal with myself: I couldn’t go until I’d read all seven Harry Potter books. Then all eight films. It was the only way I could still connect with my children. That fantasy world became my escape hatch and my reason to delay the inevitable.
I researched how to cut the carotid artery vertically, not horizontally, because it would be quicker. I sat in a field with a Stanley knife in my pocket for two hours, with the notes by my side. The only thing that stopped me was the immense devastation I would inflict upon my wonderful family. But even that felt like a trap. When you’re that low, you believe they’d be better off without you.
“The first few years will be hard for them, but eventually, they’ll be free from this situation — from someone trapped on the sofa, unable to fully engage in life. In the long run, it will be better for them, and it will release me from this constant pain. Ultimately, it’s a win-win.”
And believe me, the incessant internal monologue is both paralysing and convincing!
Logic was irrelevant! I was desperate to escape the mental torture of moving!
Yes, 10,000 times a day. One self-defeating thought for every step!
I isolated myself completely. The only thing I interacted with was ChatGPT. I used it like a therapist, a biomechanical coach, a journal. I typed for hours. Obsessing over movement theories. Asking how to activate muscles, how to inhibit others, what nerve blocks might work. It was compulsive, but it was something. I even contacted my foot consultant and enquired about a below-knee amputation!
I reached out to my psychologist. We tried everything: CBT, reframing, grounding, pacing. Nothing worked. I understood it all, but couldn’t apply any of it. Then she said, gently: “Have you ever considered ADHD?”
I scoffed. I had every bias. ADHD was for fidgety kids who couldn’t sit still. Kids with poor parenting. Not me. I’m a professional. I’ve held down jobs. This couldn’t be it.
But then she asked about caffeine. I told her everything, how I’d been consuming 1,000 to 1,500 mg a day, how I used nicotine pouches too, my previous use of ephedrine and Modafinil, along with very late nights at rave parties. I explained how the first time I had coffee at 18, it felt like the lights suddenly came on. And how every time I stopped caffeine, I’d immediately sink into brain fog and despair. Sure, that might be expected after such high intake for so long. But even six months after stopping, I still couldn’t concentrate or cope with everyday life. That’s not normal.
She asked about overwhelm. I told her how I’d turned down amazing job offers. How I quit cricket captaincy because I couldn’t handle the decision load. How I coped well only when I could avoid pressure and ot least have an escape route if it got too much.
But this movement problem? I couldn’t escape it.
She said, “You may not be lacking motivation. You maybe lacking dopamine.”
I agreed to see a psychiatrist because I was beyond desperate. I wasn’t convinced. But the psychiatrist, was certain!
She told me I had ADHD, but not the bouncing-off-the-walls kind. The internal kind.
Here’s what I know understand about ADHD and how it relates to me!
ADHD stands for Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder. It’s a common neurodevelopmental condition that affects how the brain regulates attention, energy levels, and impulse control.
There are two main types of ADHD:
- Hyperactive-Impulsive Type – This is what most people think of when they hear “ADHD”: fidgeting, restlessness, constant talking, acting without thinking. It’s more visible and often diagnosed in childhood.
- “Inattentive Type (sometimes called ADD) is marked by hyperactivity that’s internal and mental rather than outwardly visible, which can make identification and diagnosis much more complex.” – It often shows up as:
- Daydreaming or zoning out
- Forgetting things
- Trouble starting or finishing tasks
- Mental fatigue or overwhelm from everyday decisions
Me with the Inattentive Type?
For most of my life, I didn’t think I had ADHD—because I wasn’t bouncing off the walls. But I now know I have the inattentive type, which often goes unnoticed.
Instead of visible hyperactivity, I lived with internal hyperactivity: a racing mind, constant overthinking, and a need for external stimulation (like caffeine, intense exercise, or nonstop productivity) just to function. When those weren’t available, I struggled—feeling flat, foggy, or overwhelmed by simple things.
ADHD isn’t about laziness or lack of intelligence—it’s about the brain needing more dopamine to regulate motivation, focus, and emotion. Once I understood this, everything made sense.
She prescribed a stimulant medication, which I was hesitant to take. The last thing I wanted was to feel wired, anxious, or overstimulated.
But the psychiatrist gently explained that this wasn’t about getting “high”; it was about returning my brain to a baseline that most people take for granted.
She told me that for around 80% of people with ADHD, this type of medication can make a profound difference. I was still sceptical about whether ADHD really applied to me, but something in her reassurance made me willing to try.
Elvanse, short for lisdexamfetamine, gets its name from its chemical structure: lysine + dextroamphetamine. It’s a prodrug, meaning it’s inactive until converted in the body. Once swallowed, it’s absorbed through the gut and activated in the bloodstream by enzymes inside red blood cells, which slowly and steadily release dextroamphetamine throughout the day.
This steady release of dextroamphetamine avoids the chaotic peaks and crashes of fast-acting amphetamines. Once in the brain, it raises levels of dopamine and norepinephrine, two neurochemicals essential for attention, movement, and motivation.
In the prefrontal cortex, these neurotransmitters help restore executive function to a healthy baseline, allowing for clearer thinking, reduced overwhelm, and improved ability to shift and sustain attention. Around 80% of people with ADHD experience this benefit, often describing it as finally being able to manage life like a “normal person” — whatever that means!
That’s why, one hour after the first dose on Saturday the 26th July 2025 at 07:00, I could think clearly, and the constant noise around movement quietened. Not gone, but softened into background hum.
For the first time in over 12 months, I thought, “You know what, I think I can actually manage this.”
I felt completely relieved — and desperate for the effect to last. But I was also worried: what if it was just a placebo? Or the novelty of being on “prescribed speed”?
Then the strangest thing!
On Monday, July 28th, I walked to work with a sense of freedom, not obsessing over my movement. For once, I didn’t tense my belly, blow into my abdomen, or brace my body with every step. Honestly, it freaked me out, but in a good way.
Still, I’d been here before — that cruel cycle of elation followed by despair — and I was terrified it would end the same way, with thoughts too dark to name.
Over time, I’d developed a battery of physical “tests” to verify whether a new movement strategy was truly working. Single-leg calf raises with arms overhead to check for compensation. Riding a stationary bike. Going from standing to sitting upright in a chair. And finally, filming myself walking to see if I was really landing heel-to-toe on my left side.
This time, I was desperate not to go through those tests. I just wanted to hold on to this quiet moment of peace.
But of course. I had to test it out.
In the video below, section one taken two weeks before starting Elvanse, and section 2 taken 1 week after starting, you can see before taking the medication, I couldn’t naturally create stability in my abdomen. As a result, I couldn’t lift my heel, sit properly, or walk without bizarre compensations of tensing or inflating my abdomen!
Then, after starting the medication—everything was back to normal. Absolutely wild.
This video, filmed in my pants so the physio could assess the full kinetic chain, including hip positioning and glute activation, shows just how radical the transformation has been.
Fair warning: if you’re easily offended by men in budgie smugglers, you might want to skip this one!
In my view, the only plausible explanation for the sudden return of fluid, automatic movement is a rapid increase in dopamine in the brain.
Now, the standard Functional Motor Disorder (FMD) explanation would go something like this: You stopped hyper-focusing on your movement, allowed distraction to take over, and in doing so, let your body return to its natural rhythm — movement without conscious interference. That theory may explain part of it. I’ve certainly had moments of distraction before and deliberately tried to “let go” many times. But those attempts were never successful, and more importantly, never reproducible. Not even close to what happened this time.
So what else could it be?
Let’s go deeper, to the striatum, a key part of the basal ganglia, the brain’s movement coordination center. The striatum is central to initiating and regulating dynamic, fluid movement. It enables automatic, unconscious motor control, walking, shifting weight, maintaining stability, all without conscious thought.
Dopamine is the fuel for this system. Without enough of it, the circuits responsible for effortless movement fall flat. That’s why in Parkinson’s disease, where striatal dopamine is severely depleted, movement becomes rigid, effortful, or blocked entirely.
This isn’t Parkinson’s. But in ADHD, particularly the inattentive or combined types, baseline dopamine tone in the striatum and prefrontal cortex is low. Critically low in some cases. And while most people think of ADHD as a disorder of attention, it’s also a disorder of motor inhibition and regulation.
That explains the fidgeting, clumsiness, and poor postural control often seen in children and adults with ADHD, all signs of motor circuits operating without optimal regulation.
Starting with striatal dopamine already below baseline, due to undiagnosed ADHD, things worsened in 2024 when I stopped exercising and cut down on caffeine. That combination removed the last supports holding my system together. My natural, fluid, automatic movement vanished. In its place came a constant need to consciously generate core stability: bracing, inflating my abdomen, locking down, just to move at all.
As soon as I started taking Elvanse, it was like the top and bottom halves of my body finally reconnected. I suddenly had unconscious control of my core, which allowed my legs to move properly again. I could hip-hinge. I could run. I wasn’t locked up by constant conscious control anymore.
The change was instant and unmistakably due to the Elvanse. As the medication wore off later in the day and levels in my bloodstream dropped, the need to consciously control my movements returned, almost in a dose-dependent way.

What about distraction? Possibly a part of it.
Reduced anxiety? Maybe a contributing factor.
But in my view, those are secondary.
In my view, the primary mechanism, the dominant driver, was the restoration of striatal dopamine tone. That reactivated the motor pathways that had been offline. It removed the need to brace, think, or manually stabilize. It brought back natural coordination, rhythm, and trust in my body. I could run. I could squat. I could play with my kids.
Totally wild. But also… amazing..
In reflecting on my journey:
- The FMD team were partially right: I was consciously interfering with my movement patterns.
- But I believe they were wrong to suggest distraction alone could resolve the symptoms.
- Most physios, podiatrist and chiropractors were absolutely right to identify the need to strengthen my left hip, core, and foot.
- However, without underlying dynamic control, I simply couldn’t implement those rehab strategies effectively. The system wasn’t ready.
Now that dopamine is back in the picture, I no longer require distraction. I can engage in strengthening and retraining with a functional base.
Trying to pursue either route—distraction or strengthening—without this neurochemical foundation was deeply distressing. I couldn’t make progress. It nearly broke me.
On Elvanse, for the first time in years, I had a sustainable way of achieving the neurochemical balance that made thinking and moving feel normal.
And the wild part is, this is the exact feeling I used to chase on a dance floor at 4am in a rave club. No wonder I loved partying so much. I was self-medicating with music, movement and stimulants! Because my brain was screaming for dopamine and this was a guaranteed way to get it!
Now, I’ve found a safer, more stable way to meet that need, and it’s changing everything.
I can move and think fluidly without overanalysis of, well, just about everything!
In summary, with the help of Chad (my ChatGPT AI Assistant)
What follows is the timeline of that journey: the injuries, the dead ends, the breakthroughs, and the turning points that are finally bringing me back to functional movement.
Year / Date | Injury / Condition | Key Events & Interventions | Notes / Outcomes |
---|---|---|---|
2017 | Broken ankle (OS trigonum syndrome undiagnosed) | Bone trapped the flexor hallucis longus (FHL) in the posterior ankle space for seven years | “Seven years of walking without the FHL — my body had no choice but to adapt in all the wrong ways.” |
2019–2022 | Shoulder surgeries (right side) | Multiple surgeries | Added to whole-body protective patterns and altered movement |
2022 | EMG | Did not test intrinsic foot muscles | “The clue we needed was missed — the right test wasn’t done.” |
2023–2024 | Plantar fibroma (left foot) | Radiotherapy and steroid injections | Minimal improvement |
Early 2024 | Ongoing left foot dysfunction | Nerve stimulation test + EMG confirmed medial plantar nerve lesion | Likely cause of instability at first metatarsal |
Mid 2024 | CBT trial for movement | Brief improvement | Relapse to old protective patterns |
Jan 2025 | Movement struggles | High caffeine intake and chiropractic treatment | Only short-term relief |
Apr–Jul 2025 | Severe breakdown in movement & mood | Triggered by football with kids | “That afternoon on the pitch broke more than my movement — it broke my hope for a while.” |
Jul 2025 | ADHD diagnosis | Started lisdexamfetamine (Elvanse) 20 mg | “Within hours of the first dose, my legs moved the way they should. It was instant, and life-changing.” |
Aug 2025 – ongoing | Rehabilitation phase | Combining ADHD strategies with physiotherapy | Working with Alex Ogilvie (Achieve Health) on long-term recovery |
Key Takeaways
- Missed diagnoses can cascade — each wrong turn created layers of compensation that made the real issue harder to find.
- Movement and mood are deeply linked — physical breakdowns can trigger mental health crises, and vice versa.
- Neurochemistry matters — correcting ADHD-related dopamine imbalance unlocked my body’s ability to move naturally again.
- Recovery isn’t linear — every phase has its own lessons, and progress comes from stacking those lessons together.

Re-thinking ADHD
I used to think ADHD was about bad behaviour and out-of-control kids who had eaten too many sweets and spent half their life on an iPad. Unregulated kids. Poor discipline. Parents who just could not control their kids.
How wrong I was. ADHD is a neurochemical disorder. Without sorting the chemistry, all the psychology in the world is just chicken feed.
You can’t do the pacing, the CBT, the planning, the breathwork, if your brain doesn’t have the juice to engage in the first place.
And it turns out I wasn’t the only one.
Seems birds of a feather flock together.
Meet one of my best mates, Andy, who was diagnosed with ADHD, the innatentive type, also in July 2025.

For years, we’d party together, take stimulants, and have calm, connected conversations. Not to escape, but because those nights were the only times we felt what others might call baseline. That’s why we bonded. That’s what made us feel normal.
On August 1st, 2025, he started Elvanse. And instantly, the constant overthinking and overwhelm dialled down to a quiet hum, like background furniture. I’m beyond excited to see what this means for him going forward.
Here’s to a fresh chapter. Two ADHD minds, finally starting from a level playing field, with baseline dopamine restored, and life finally making sense.
There are so many people I am truly grateful for!
Avicii has got me through some of the toughest times and provided the soundtrack to my journey!
First, those who would not let me “FADE INTO DARKNESS”
Danielle Pemberton —You sat with me while I cried. You never judged. You waited. You loved me back to life.
You are the reason I’m still here.
You endured the horrific experience of watching the man you love deteriorate physically, emotionally, and mentally. You left for work on days when you had to make peace with the thought that I might not be there when you came home. And even then, you chose to stay. You chose to love me with everything you had — even when I was incapable of loving you back.
When I said “I will” and “’til death do us part” — I now know what that truly meant. But you already did. Your unconditional love, your willingness to sit in the darkest of places with me, gave me a kind of reassurance I never thought possible. It gave me belief — real belief — that love is enough.
You said we’d find a way. That we could move to the beach so I could swim. That if needed, we’d get a wheelchair and you’d push me around. You never gave up on me, even when I had.
You are the definition of true love. And while this experience has scarred us both, I believe it has also made us stronger. In some strange, not-so-funny way, I think it will turn out to be the defining moment of our lives.
Because at the end of July, we turned a corner — together. From the deepest darkness into a place of light.
And in time, I believe our future will be even better because of what we’ve been through.
Because of the love that carried us through the pain.

Isobel — You looked after the kids when I couldn’t. You brought safety and calm into our home when I had nothing left to give. You gave Dani the space to be there for me.
You saw me at my worst — doing 500 laps of the garden in a manic panic, desperately trying to find a way to walk that I could stick with — only to end up crying and breaking down in front of you. You were there when I phoned the crisis line, on the edge of giving up.
You stepped in as a parent for Grace and Jude when I didn’t leave the sofa for a month. You did it all without judgement — just pure compassion and empathy.
I already have the best mum in the world, but if I couldn’t have her, you’d be at the top of the list.
Grace and Jude are lucky to have the best nanny in the world. And we are all lucky to have you.

Mum — for reminding me of the signs that were always there. For your love, your steadiness, and your strength.

Next – I want to thank those who, through their clinical skill and caring nature, helped me find a way forward.
Even though it wasn’t through their usual approach, they operated with kindness, compassion, and curiosity. Ultimately, they helped lead me to the medication that changed everything – and to movement practices that gave me back my quality of life. They helped wake me up from the nightmare of ADHD combined with FMD.
So it feels only fitting to pair this with Avicii’s ‘WAKE ME UP’.”
Dr. Abid Hussain – or as I affectionately call him, ‘Dr. Foot’ – played a bigger role in my recovery than he probably realises. His genuine curiosity led to the removal of the bone spur, the release of the trapped tendon, and the perseverance through multiple pairs of orthotics. He treated my plantar fibroma with steroid injections, which has now almost disappeared.
But more than any of that, I’ll never forget the day he called me out of the blue one Friday and said, ‘You’ve come this far, don’t f*ing give up.’ That moment carried more weight than he’ll ever know. It kept me going. It gave me hope when I needed it most
Professor Nat Padhiar – Nat was, without doubt, the best foot consultant I saw (and I saw five!). He thoroughly investigated my case, which led to the release of tendon adhesions, and when he sensed there was more going on, he referred me to a nerve specialist. But more important than any of that was how he responded – personally, thoughtfully, and consistently – to every one of my long, frantic emails. He was kind, courteous, and genuinely caring.
When I emailed him in despair asking for a referral to someone who could amputate my left leg below the knee, he replied with compassion but also with firm, clear direction: under no circumstances should I do that. He encouraged me to re-engage with psychology and therapy and assured me that there was a way to find peace. That email literally saved my leg. I was seriously considering flying to Thailand to have it amputated, that’s how desperate I had become to escape the mental torture.
Nat is not only a genius when it comes to feet – he’s a first-class human being. I owe him so much.”
Sandra Eriemo, my psychologist – without her help and brilliant diagnostic insight, I honestly don’t think I’d be here today. She was the perfect blend of compassion, curiosity, and firmness when it mattered. Most importantly, she was willing to think differently when the traditional path wasn’t working.
There were so many times I wanted to give up on psychology altogether, but something in me trusted Sandra. I knew she could help. Neither of us could have imagined that a diagnosis of ADHD – and treatment with Elvanse – would ultimately resolve my functional motor disorder, and in doing so, open the door to finally doing the psychological work needed to manage ADHD itself.
That’s the power of compassion, curiosity, and belief. Sandra brought all three – and it changed everything.
Alex Ogilby at Achieve Health, Alex, you listened when I was at my lowest. You understood the emotional toll of my physical dysfunction. You set the tiniest goals and made them achievable. You gave me structure, encouragement, and hope. Your skill, compassion, and presence kept me going. Now I have normal dopamine in the brain, I know I will make great strides!
Finally, when you’re at your lowest, every drop of compassion, empathy, and love matters. It’s what keeps you going.
It’s what gives you a flicker of belief that maybe – just maybe – things might be okay. That maybe you are a good human being, even when you’re drowning in self-hate, guilt, and the feeling that you’re not pulling your weight.
As Avicii said, “ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE.” Every time I hear that track, I’m reminded of how incredible humans can be – and how much we need each other. No matter how much I value AI and ChatGPT, nothing replaces the healing power of human connection.
Grace and Jude – my two little beauties. They didn’t need me to be running around or playing games. They just loved me, unconditionally, as their Dad.
They sat with me on the sofa watching Harry Potter, played Monopoly by my side, and even wore my foot boot, wrapped their feet in bandages, and hobbled around on crutches – trying to understand, and to show love in the only way they knew how.
They cuddled me when I cried. They ran to get Mum when I broke down in the corner of the garden. Grace even read her own bedtime stories aloud when I couldn’t manage, and I often woke up an hour later curled up in her bed.
That innocent, blissful, pure love was the thing that kept me going through the darkest moments.

Phil, Andy, and Jamie – my three best men. You listened to countless hours of my despair with compassion and patience. You didn’t try to fix it or offer solutions – you just listened. And sometimes, that’s more than enough. It meant everything

Louise, Anjanee, Pauline, Lesley, Cat, Holly, Kirsty, and Charlotte— for your compassion and understanding at work. For giving me the space to rebuild with dignity.
The Diabetes Community
Over the past two years, there have been moments when I’ve had to pause, let go of projects I cared about, and just focus on making it through. In those times, what made the difference wasn’t a breakthrough or a big gesture — it was people.
This is a thank-you to the diabetes community — and in particular, a few extraordinary people who reached out with kindness, understanding, and quiet solidarity when I needed it most.
To Amy Jolly and Anne-Marie Frohock — my conference buddies and two of the most thoughtful, empathetic human beings I’ve met. You’ve both walked your own paths with courage, and I think that’s why you noticed when I was struggling. Thank you for always checking in.
To Professor Rob Andrews — for your wisdom, patience, and kindness. You didn’t just support me professionally, you cared personally. Your understanding when I had to step back meant more than I can say.
To Dr. Dessi Zaharieva — one of the finest diabetes educators I’ve ever met, and one of the finest people. You reached out from halfway across the world, in the middle of your own full life, just to say: thinking of you. That kind of humanity stays with someone.
To Professor Othmar Moser — for sending unexpected messages of warmth and positivity that arrived right when they were needed. It’s a quiet superpower you have, and it never goes unnoticed.
To Manyee Li, Francesca Annan, and Dr. Alistair Lumb — thank you for your private messages when I had to step away from EXTOD projects. You didn’t need to, but you did. That willingness to offer a listening ear means more than you might think.
Being part of EXTOD has reminded me that technical skill is only half the story — the real magic comes from the people behind it. And in that group, I’ve found not just brilliant minds, but hearts that care. That makes all the difference.
If you know someone going through a hard time — even if you don’t know them well — reach out. A simple message can land exactly when it’s needed. You might never know the full impact it has… but it could be enough to carry someone through one more day. And sometimes, that’s all it takes.
So what comes next?
I just played tennis for the first time in two years (Sunday the 3rd of August 2025)!

I went to Wales with my family from the 4th to the 11th of August, a trip I had been quietly dreading. We built Hogwarts after a family sports day. Check out Grace posing. I think there may be trouble ahead!

From 15th to the 17th of August, Dani and I are off to Ibiza. Just the two of us, staying at Ushuaïa. A rare chance to reconnect, to laugh, and to be together as equals… maybe for the first time in years. Time to truly lean into the spirit of “ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE.“
Then, a new normal!
I still need to learn pacing, planning, and get support. I am ready to do the real work with Sandra!
Now that I’m no longer micromanaging every single movement, I can finally start rebuilding strength on my left side with Alex.
But this time, I’ve got the biological foundation that gives me a proper chance!
And I’m sharing this because I know there’s someone else out there stuck where I was.
Someone who thinks (or people around them think) they’re broken, lazy, burnt out, beyond help. You’re not.
You might just be missing dopamine.
In fact, it makes me wonder whether people diagnosed with a functional motor disorder might actually have underlying issues with executive function and movement control. Issues that may vanish with a healthy baseline level of dopamine.
This is a golden opportunity for a randomised control trial!
Are there a host of people with a functional motor disorder that would benefit from lisdexamfetamine (Elvanse)?
If this story helps even one person get to a diagnosis, or even start to question what’s been going on beneath the surface, then it’s worth it.
Please know this: there is no shame in needing neurochemical support. If exercise and caffeine have worked, great. But if those tools aren’t cutting it anymore, or you have had to stop them, there’s a safe, regulated option that works inside the brain, there is no shame in taking it.
Baseline is not a luxury. It’s essential for functioning both mentally and physically!
Yes, you still need to work on mindset. But, this can only be done with a mind that is functional!
And with it, life can feel worth living again.
I really hope there won’t be a part three. But if this journey has taught me anything, it’s this: change is inevitable, but the human capacity to cope and endure has limits. No matter what your favourite motivational guru (who’s probably been riding a normal, or artificially boosted, dopamine baseline their whole life) tries to tell you.
Sometimes, we need help, whether from loved ones, mental health professionals, or medication. There is always something that can lift you out of the darkest places.
So don’t stop looking for it, because once you find it, coming back to life is a beautiful thing.
Hope this helps someone
Always remember: “ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE.” Avicii — thank you for guiding me through this hell. I understand why you couldn’t endure it any longer. Rest in peace, you beautiful, tortured genius.
John
11 responses to “Part 2: The Lights Came On — From Breakdown to Breakthrough with ADHD”
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Love you Cousin John 🥰
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What an inspiration you are John for sharing this story and helping others. My daughter is not one that bounces off the walls but is showing she signs she has inattentive ADHD. Reading your story i will remember everything you have said for her future if i need it
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Very happy to read that you’ve found a cause and now also get support and a plan and have a baseline in place John. You are the best.
Take care
Ron -
You are very lucky to get help. My partner sadly took his life. I don’t know if those years of night time hypos, caring for me, took their toll, but I asked for help for him & got none. Excellent support is hard to find but you are one of the lucky ones. Thank you for sharing your story
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I am really sorry to hear that!
I know how hard it is for a partner. My wife could only listen and felt helpless even though she was doing everything!
If their experience was like mine, leaving was not because of a lack of love for you. It is simply unbearable to be be locked in you own mind with a barrage of self defeating thoughts. Much love
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Thank you for sharing. Reading through this you have written my story.
As a 60 year old, T1 for 30 of those and many problems through out life. Finally got some help and diagnosis ADHD now medicated and clearer head.
You are an inspiration.
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Kevin! I love this! So happy for you! As I feel your pain but also now your elation!!
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I read your story even twice, impressive, it really touched me and helped me to better understand ADHD. Our eldest son has also been diagnosed since he was a teenager ( he is now 31), he has tried medication, but that didn’t bring a solution. In general he can manage well, but always has a full schedule, two different employers in Healthcare, giving training Kick-boxing, teaching children of different ages kick-boxing, giving personal training and a busy social Life, including our family. Your story helped me to better understand his mindset and daily worries. I will certainly your story with him, maybe even Elvanse can help him also. Thanks for sharing!
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I loved reading this!!! From my understanding, Elvanse is different to the previous early versions (Adderal), Adderal is a faster acting more intense jig followed by a crash and therefore more buzzy and tolerances builds faster! Elvanse is much slower, smoother and lower tolerance build up! Obviously, medication was only part of my answer but without it I could not use the CBT techniques I understood but just could not do! Best of luck and love! John
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Truly an amazing read.
Phil told me, in much briefer words of your miraculous story.
I shed a few tears along the way as this story does resonate with me and my family.
Thank you for being vulnerable, I am sure this will help anyone that reads it.
So happy for you and your family.
Love Burnsy-
I really appreciate that mate.
I might even stand a chance against your bowling now!
Xxx
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