For many women in regional Western Australia, an ADHD diagnosis arrives late in life — not as an answer, but as a doorway into a new kind of uncertainty. Without structured support after diagnosis, the medical system's work ends precisely where the human work begins. In Geraldton and surrounding communities, peer-led groups are quietly filling that void, offering something clinical care rarely provides: the recognition that one is not broken, only different.
Regional support groups empower women navigating adult ADHD diagnosis
Women with undiagnosed or delayed ADHD diagnoses experience higher rates of depression, feelings of failure, and missed opportunities for support and treatment.
You get diagnosed and then you're sent off with a script
Mark
Why did it take Jessie Carrie until age 32 to get diagnosed? Is that unusual for women?
Mimi
It's actually the pattern. Women internalize their symptoms differently than men do, so they often don't look like the stereotype. They get misdiagnosed as having hormone problems or anxiety instead. By the time they get the right diagnosis, years have passed.
Mark
And then what happens after diagnosis?
Mimi
That's where the real problem starts. You get the diagnosis, you get a prescription, and then you're essentially on your own. There's no support structure, no one helping you understand what it means to live with this.
Mark
So Carrie created the groups to fill that gap?
Mimi
Exactly. She realized other women were falling through the cracks the same way she had. The groups aren't medical—they're peer-led spaces where women can connect and make sense of their diagnosis together.
Mark
What does that actually do for someone like Lakeisha Strawhorn?
Mimi
It lets her stop feeling like a failure. She spent her whole life thinking she was different in a bad way. Hearing other women's stories made her realize her brain just works differently, and that's not a flaw.
Mark
Michele Toner said she felt infuriated. Why?
Mimi
Because this kind of support shouldn't be rare or dependent on one person deciding to start a group. It should be standard practice. And the cost of not having it—higher depression, missed potential—affects everyone, not just the individual.
Mark
Is awareness changing?
Mimi
Slowly. People are starting to understand that ADHD isn't just hyperactive boys. But there's still stigma, and the diagnostic system still favors how ADHD shows up in men. Regional areas like Geraldton are ahead of the curve because they had to be.
Il Polso
- Women with ADHD are routinely diagnosed years later than men because their symptoms turn inward — manifesting as self-doubt and misdiagnosis rather than visible disruption.
- After finally receiving a diagnosis, many women are handed a prescription and discharged, left without guidance on how to actually live with what they've just learned about themselves.
- Jessie Carrie and Emily McCain launched Empowered Together WA to ensure other women wouldn't face that silence alone, building peer-led spaces specifically for the Midwest and Gascoyne regions.
- For women like Lakeisha Strawhorn, these groups have been transformative — replacing a lifetime of feeling like an outsider with the grounding relief of shared experience.
- ADHD WA's Michele Toner warns that without early diagnosis and proper support, women face higher rates of depression and lost potential — and calls the absence of such groups in standard care a systemic failure.
For many women in regional Western Australia, an ADHD diagnosis arrives late in life — not as an answer, but as a doorway into a new kind of uncertainty. Without structured support after diagnosis, the medical system's work ends precisely where the human work begins. In Geraldton and surrounding communities, peer-led groups are quietly filling that void, offering something clinical care rarely provides: the recognition that one is not broken, only different.
Jessie Carrie was 32 when she received the diagnosis that reframed her entire life. The relief, she found, came wrapped in grief — for the years spent believing something was fundamentally wrong with her rather than simply different. And then came a second disappointment: once the prescription was filled, the system moved on. There was no guidance for what came next, no bridge between understanding her condition and learning to live with it.
Carrie decided other women shouldn't face that silence alone. Together with Emily McCain, a fellow former NDIS support coordinator, she founded Empowered Together WA — a peer-led service for women in the Midwest and Gascoyne regions. The groups weren't clinical. They were spaces where women could sit together, share what they were discovering about themselves, and begin to see their differences not as defects but as a different kind of wiring.
For Lakeisha Strawhorn, 28, the journey to diagnosis had been shaped by a stereotype that never fit her. The hyperactive boy bouncing off walls bore no resemblance to her own experience. It took a friend's suggestion before she sought testing, and when her diagnosis came back positive two years ago, she described her world opening up. The support group gave her somewhere to stop measuring herself against an impossible standard.
Michele Toner of ADHD WA praised the initiative while expressing frustration that such support isn't standard practice. Women's ADHD symptoms tend to internalize — making them easier to miss and more likely to be misread as hormone imbalances or mood disorders. The consequences are serious: higher rates of depression, coexisting conditions, and potential left unrealised. These regional groups are not replacing medical care, but they are filling the human gap it leaves behind.
Jessie Carrie was 32 when she finally got the diagnosis that explained so much of her life. The relief came tangled with regret. She found herself wondering what might have been different if someone had recognized the pattern years earlier—in school, in her twenties, before she'd spent decades feeling like something was wrong with her rather than understanding how her brain actually worked.
But the diagnosis itself turned out to be only the beginning of a different kind of struggle. After the paperwork cleared and the prescription was filled, she was essentially sent on her way. There was no roadmap for what came next, no one to help her make sense of the gap between understanding her condition and actually living with it. The medical system had done its job and moved on. Carrie, like many women navigating an adult ADHD diagnosis, was left to figure out the rest alone.
She decided other women shouldn't have to. Working with Emily McCain, a fellow former NDIS support coordinator, Carrie launched Empowered Together WA, a peer-led service designed specifically for women in the Midwest and Gascoyne regions of Western Australia. The groups they created weren't clinical or prescriptive. They were spaces where women could sit together, share what they were learning about themselves, and realize they weren't broken—they were just wired differently than the world had assumed.
Lakeisha Strawhorn, 28, had spent most of her childhood sensing she was different from her peers, but the stereotype of ADHD—the hyperactive boy bouncing off walls—never matched what she saw in herself. It wasn't until a friend suggested she get tested that she pursued a diagnosis. When it came back positive two years ago, something shifted. "My whole world opened up," she said. The support group became a place where she could finally stop measuring herself against an impossible standard and start accepting how her brain actually functions. Hearing other women's stories made her feel less like an outsider, less like a failure.
The need for these groups points to a larger gap in how ADHD is understood and diagnosed, particularly in women. Michele Toner, chair of ADHD WA, called the initiative "wonderful" but admitted she felt infuriated that such support wasn't standard practice. Women tend to internalize their ADHD symptoms in ways that make them harder to spot. They often end up misdiagnosed with hormone imbalances or other conditions entirely. The stereotype persists—ADHD is still widely seen as a boys' problem, even as awareness spreads that the condition presents very differently across the population.
Toner emphasized that the stakes extend beyond individual wellbeing. Without proper diagnosis and treatment, people face higher rates of depression and other coexisting conditions. When women miss out on support and understanding, society loses the full potential of those individuals. The regional groups in Western Australia are filling a void that the broader healthcare system has left open—not with medication or clinical intervention, but with the simple, powerful act of women gathering to understand themselves and each other.
Citazioni salienti
My whole world opened up after I was diagnosed, and I stopped feeling like a failure compared to my peers.— Lakeisha Strawhorn, 28
Without a diagnosis and treatment, there are higher levels of depression and coexisting conditions, and if people miss out personally, then society misses out.— Michele Toner, ADHD WA chair
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