Litigating with ADHD: The Beautiful Chaos of a Neurodivergent Mind in Court

I didn’t realize I had ADHD until well after I’d finished law school. In hindsight, the signs were neon-lit and screaming, but I’d mistaken them for “quirks” or just assumed everyone else was also living life in a state of semi-controlled internal combustion. Apparently, no — not everyone rewrites a closing submission six times in one sitting or forgets to eat because they hyper-focused for eight hours straight. 

Welcome to litigating with ADHD: part superpower, part sabotage, all-consuming.

The Double Life of a Neurodivergent Lawyer

From the outside, I probably look like any other litigator: organized (enough), aggressive (when necessary), and resilient (always). But internally, it’s a symphony of chaos. I can prepare for a cross-examination like I’m training for war, building timelines with surgical precision and pulling out inconsistencies with poetic flair — but I’ll also lose my AirPods three times during a trial and forget where I parked at the courthouse. Again.

There’s something strange and beautiful about this paradox: ADHD gives me the ability to zoom in on minute details in evidence like I’m solving a crime novel, while simultaneously forgetting to respond to an email from the client’s surety for four business days. My brain can hold the entire Crown theory and every witness inconsistency at once… but not the date of my dentist appointment.

The Workload is Not Designed for Us

Litigation is not ADHD-friendly. It’s high volume, high stakes, high stress — with very little room for error. Everything’s urgent. Everything’s emotional. Everything’s a deadline you can’t afford to miss, except your brain is still buffering because it got distracted by a raccoon committing petty theft in Mississauga (why is it always Sauga?). 

There are days I leave court on a dopamine crash so hard I feel hungover. The crash isn’t because I didn’t love the fight — it’s because I gave 200% just to operate like a “functional” version of myself.

The law demands perfection. ADHD does not accommodate that. It gives brilliance, but rarely with predictability. The same brain that can advocate like a warrior can also spiral at the sound of an Outlook notification.

Strategies I Use (That Sometimes Work) 

• Timers and alarms for everything: because I will forget to leave for court until it’s too late.

• Writing everything down: in three places — because my brain will betray me.

• Being radically honest: with my colleagues and myself about what I need help with. (Still learning this.)

The Emotional Toll

What they don’t tell you about ADHD is the shame. The constant fear of being “found out.” Not as a fraud - I know I’m good at what I do - but as someone who is always one forgotten calendar reminder away from a professional crisis.

You internalize every missed email as a moral failure. Every mistake feels like proof you can’t cut it. Even when your record is solid, your confidence isn’t.

ADHD isn’t a lack of intelligence. It’s a lack of consistency. And in litigation, consistency is the currency.

But Also… the Magic

Because there is magic.

My ADHD brain lets me feel the courtroom in a visceral way. I can read the energy shift in a witness the second it happens. I can pivot in cross when something unexpected lands - not because I planned for it, but because my mind always has five parallel paths running at once.

I don’t always take the straightest route, but I often take the most creative one. And that matters.

ADHD doesn’t make me a worse litigator. It just makes me a different kind of litigator. One who is constantly managing chaos while advocating through it. One who is often overwhelmed but never, ever, uncommitted.

To My Fellow Neurodivergent Lawyers

You are not broken. You’re just playing a high-stakes game with a different operating system. And that’s okay. Our brains might need more scaffolding, more breaks, more grace - but they also offer insight, empathy, and fight.

So yes, I forgot to eat lunch and I’m late replying to three emails. But I also tore through that bail hearing like a hurricane in heels.

And sometimes, that’s enough.