Independence for Whom?

Every year on July 4th, we celebrate Independence Day.

We gather for fireworks, wave flags, fire up the grill, and talk about freedom. We commemorate our nation's separation from Britain and the birth of a country founded on the idea that “all men are created equal.”

As I reflected on this year's holiday, I found myself asking a different question:

Independent for whom?

As an ADHD coach, I spend my days walking alongside people who are intelligent, capable, creative, compassionate, and deeply committed to building meaningful lives. Yet many of them do not experience the kind of freedom we celebrate this weekend — not because they lack ability or ambition, but because they are expected to succeed within systems that were never designed with them in mind.

I coach Black women who spent forty years believing they were lazy before finally learning they had ADHD.

I coach Black men who learned early that struggling wasn't an option, so they became experts at hiding it.

I coach white women who appear wildly successful from the outside while privately wondering why everyday tasks feel impossible.

I coach fathers who desperately want to be more present with their families but cannot seem to keep track of the invisible responsibilities that fill their days.

I coach mothers carrying the executive functioning load for an entire household while blaming themselves for never feeling “caught up.”

I coach LGBTQIA+ clients who have spent years masking parts of who they are while simultaneously masking the way their brains work.

I coach children of immigrants trying to honor family expectations while navigating schools that often misunderstand how they learn.

I coach middle school students who already believe they're failures because they forgot to turn in the homework they actually completed.

I coach teenagers who have spent years hearing, “You're so smart, if only you'd apply yourself.”

I coach college students who earned admission into incredible universities only to question whether they belong once the structure they've always relied on disappears.

I coach entrepreneurs who love their work but feel guilty every time they need to rest.

Different ages.
Different races.
Different genders.
Different identities.
Different stories.

The common thread isn't intelligence.
It isn't motivation.
It isn't character.

It's that so many have spent years trying to survive systems that reward compliance over creativity, speed over sustainability, and productivity over humanity.

We celebrate hustle culture. We admire people who answer emails at midnight. We praise working through lunch, glorify exhaustion, and wear burnout like a badge of honor.

Then we wonder why so many people feel like they're failing.

Maybe the problem isn't the people. Maybe it's the systems we've normalized.

One of the phrases I return to often with my clients is: “Difficulty is data, not identity.”

When someone struggles to start a task, that's data.
When someone misses a deadline because they underestimated time, that's data.
When someone becomes overwhelmed by noise, transitions, competing priorities, or decision fatigue, that's data.

Data tells us something about the environment, the demands being placed on a person, or the supports that may be missing. It should never become evidence that someone is less intelligent, less capable, or less worthy.

Executive functioning doesn't happen in a vacuum. It is shaped by our environments and influenced by our experiences. Race, gender, disability, culture, socioeconomic status, trauma, language, family expectations, workplace culture, and school policies all affect how someone moves through the world. For many of the people I coach, ADHD is only one part of a much more complex story.

The more identities someone carries that don't fit neatly inside our systems, the more energy they often spend simply trying to belong.

So this Independence Day, I'm thinking about a different kind of freedom.

The freedom to ask for accommodations without shame.
The freedom to learn differently.
The freedom to work in ways that honor your nervous system instead of fighting against it.
The freedom to rest without guilt.
The freedom to stop measuring your worth by your productivity.
The freedom to say, “This system isn't working for me,” instead of asking, “What's wrong with me?”

To me, that's what independence can become.

Not simply freedom from something.
But freedom to become fully ourselves.

We have made remarkable progress as a nation since 1776, and that progress is worth recognizing. Yet our work is not finished. Until our schools, workplaces, healthcare systems, and communities recognize that different brains require different pathways to success, many people will continue fighting for a kind of independence they have not yet fully experienced.

That is the work I have the privilege of witnessing every day.

And that is the freedom worth continuing to build. 🧡