The other day, I listened to the Mel Robbins podcast about her delayed diagnosis of ADHD at age 47, which was her accidental discovery in the process of getting her teenage son evaluated for ADHD. She said she was flabbergasted and wondered why she hadn’t discovered this much sooner. As she researched, she learned that girls (and women) are grossly underdiagnosed for ADHD due to gender differences in the way their symptoms manifest. Historically, ADHD studies have primarily focused on boys, leading to a male-centric understanding of this disorder. She called the group of girls and women underdiagnosed with ADHD “the lost generation,” who’ve failed to receive proper treatment to alleviate their stress and suffering. My lightbulb went off, making me wonder, Do I also have it? Am I part of this lost generation?

Since my son was little, he was so fidgety, hyperactive, and accident-prone that keeping up with his energy level was super challenging. When he was in the second grade, I suspected he might have ADHD. So I broached my concern to my husband, who immediately dismissed it, saying that he himself was just like that as a child. My acquiescence to this opinion delayed the diagnosis of my son’s ADHD until he was 17. My husband was never tested for it, but I’d likely been dealing with two ADHDers in my household for all these years. As for me, who knows—I certainly seem to have my share of ADDish (without H) moments. Getting myself assessed, however, is currently not high up on my to-do list.

I recognized that the root cause of my anxiety is complex trauma

During a particularly tough period in my son’s high school career back in 2016, I sought help from a psychiatrist, who diagnosed me with GAD (generalized anxiety disorder). Gaining more understanding of complex trauma over the past several years, I recognized that the root cause of my anxiety is complex trauma. The psychiatrist later agreed.

I wrote The Pond Beyond the Forest: A Memoir of Hope and Healing (due to be published in the fall of 2025), chronicling my struggles with motherhood, marriage, menopause, and mental health. I’d never heard of the term complex trauma until finishing the first draft of this book. It was eye-opening to learn how perfectly its definition captures my lifelong struggles and that my conditions had a name.

I can now see more clearly why that particular phase in my life seemed so overwhelmingly insurmountable

I recently also learned that the symptoms of ADHD (which my son has) and complex trauma (which I have) not only significantly overlap but also can co-occur and create a vicious cycle due to a bidirectional relationship, feeding off each other. Hypervigilance, for instance—one of the hallmark symptoms of complex trauma—mimics ADHD symptoms of hyperactivity, distractibility, and difficulty regulating emotions. Other overlapping symptoms include anxiety, depression, agitation, irritability, impulsivity, inattention, difficulty sleeping, et cetera. How these symptoms manifest can vary widely from person to person, ranging from mild to severe, depending on the interaction between genetics, environments, and stress levels. And let’s throw into the mix the hormonal imbalances of puberty and menopause. All these conditions are said to be influenced by impairment and dysfunction in the brain’s prefrontal cortex, disrupting executive functions and cognitive control. This may explain why they can be so hard to differentiate despite varied underlying causes when focusing solely on behaviors, which can lead to potential misdiagnoses.

I can now see more clearly why that particular phase in my life seemed so overwhelmingly insurmountable—why the experiences and interactions between my son, husband, and me had led to so many misunderstandings and entanglements, and I couldn’t seem to see the forest for the trees. Both my son and I were in the throes of (adolescent vs. menopausal) hormonal wackiness, which undoubtedly caused us to co-dysregulate and worsen our preexisting conditions. To add another layer of complexity, I also had to deal with cultural differences between Japan and America, especially regarding marriage and childrearing. No wonder things went haywire in our household, and I felt like I was going into a tailspin.

Growing up “motherless” with a narcissistic, emotionally immature mother who was often physically absent, the task of reparenting myself should have been an essential priority. But while being preoccupied with parenting my son (with no navigation tools) and trying to break a cycle of generational attachment trauma, I ended up neglecting myself all over again, and this time, sacrificing my marriage, too. I was extremely fortunate, though, to be able to turn the tide and repair the damage caused during this period and restore the relationships in my family.

Many different terms are used to refer to the phenomenon of early damage to the child, resulting in long-term repercussions on his/her/their overall physical, mental, and emotional health. Those closely related terms include complex trauma, complex post-traumatic stress disorder (CPTSD), developmental/attachment/relational trauma, childhood emotional neglect (CEN), and the Mother Wound. Experts in the field slice and package their knowledge differently and promote their recovery models and methods with their own talking points and frameworks. Still, they are all premised on one simple factor: Not being nurtured and cared for with loving attention in early life affects one’s brain development, leading to a myriad of subsequent issues.

Public awareness about the impact of trauma on children and adolescents is growing

It is encouraging that public awareness about the impact of trauma on children and adolescents is growing, which is great news considering how crucial the first several years of a child’s development play in laying the foundations for life. We need to keep raising awareness of how prolonged toxic stress in childhood can alter a child’s developing brain structurally and functionally. And whether a child experiences big “T” or little “t” trauma, without a felt sense of safety, the child’s fight-flight-freeze-fawn response may become constantly activated, possibly leading the child to stay stuck in survival mode.

With my book, I seek to bring to life an in-depth longitudinal case study of complex trauma by illuminating and illustrating:

1. The impact of early childhood and adolescence experiences.
2. How unhealed childhood trauma can negatively impact the closest relationships in adult life, especially as a parent.
3. Healing myself is the most critical piece in breaking a cycle of generational attachment trauma.

Writing my book cultivated greater self-awareness and helped me to heal much of my trauma. Still, I believe my healing journey is a lifelong process, like peeling a giant onion—just as I think I’ve got the hang of a certain situational trigger, life throws a monkey wrench, and I find myself struggling with it all over again. Though it sometimes feels like I’m back to square one, I can now see it as an opportunity to dig deeper and heal the wounds more each time.

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Shigeko Ito

Shigeko Ito is a Japanese immigrant and holds a Ph.D. in education from Stanford University. She currently works at a Montessori preschool and lives  in Seattle with her husband of twenty-eight years and an eighteen-year-old toy poodle. She is seeking representation for her debut memoir, The Pond Beyond the Forest. You can follow her writing at shigekoito.com.