Looking past the shame

In our communities across Taitokerau, we see families struggling with addiction every single day. For a very long time, the standard system has treated this painful battle as a moral failing, a lack of willpower, or a sign of bad character. But if we look at this with real common sense and a kind heart, we see a completely different story. Addiction is not about being a bad person; it is a desperate search for Mauri, our vital life force, in a world where people have become deeply disconnected. It is what happens when a mind is running on empty and is trying to find enough basic energy to survive in a harsh, stressful environment.

Under-stimulated minds

To understand why our neurodivergent whānau are so frequently affected by these struggles, we have to look at how different brains process energy. An ADHD brain naturally operates in a chronic state of low chemical energy. Because of how its internal messaging system works, the brain is essentially under-stimulated and starved for focus.

The internal tug-of-war

There is a unique experience shared by many of our people here in Taitokerau, a constant inner conflict where a deep drive for order is always being challenged by a sudden impulse for discovery. It is the daily reality of needing an absolute, predictable routine to feel safe, while simultaneously being bored to tears by that exact same routine. This is what modern doctors call the AuDHD paradox, meaning a person carries both autistic and ADHD traits at the same time. The modern medical system looks at this setup and labels it a double dose of mental disorder. But when we look at our whānau with down-to-earth common sense, we see a powerful, high-energy system.

Instead of a broken mind, these individuals possess a dual-engine processing system. It is a state of constant internal tension where one engine is crying out to seek novelty and explore, while the second engine is pulling hard to stabilise and create order. It can feel like driving a vehicle with one foot flat on the accelerator and the other foot stomping down on the brake.

The restless classroom spirit

Walk into almost any school across Taitokerau, and you will see the exact same pattern playing out. There is always a student who simply cannot stay frozen in their seat. Their eyes are constantly on the move, tracking every single flicker of movement outside the window or noticing a sudden change in the room long before anyone else does. In our current modern setup, the system looks at this behaviour and slaps a label on it, calling it a deficit, a learning disorder, or a behavioural disruption.

But as I sit here, rooted in our shared history and a deep commitment to the thriving of our whānau, I see something entirely different. What the experts call a lack of attention is actually an abundance of attention, a highly specialised trait that our ancestors relied upon for the absolute survival of our people.

Built for the wild

The Hunter-Gatherer Hypothesis shows us that what we call Aroreretini, or ADHD, is actually a collection of ancient genetic gifts that kept our people alive in a wild, dynamic environment. If these traits were truly defects, natural selection would have weeded them out thousands of years ago. Instead, things like hyper-focus and quick, impulsive decision-making were vital rapid-response tools used for tracking fast prey or reacting to hidden dangers.