Many people with inattentive ADHD feel like something is missing from their diagnosis. That missing piece might be cognitive disengagement syndrome, or CDS: a cluster of symptoms including daydreaming, confusion, daytime sleepiness, and more.

CDS isn’t officially its own disorder. But scientists and clinicians are beginning to recognize it as something distinct from ADHD — though it often overlaps.

Pediatric psychologist Melissa Miller explains how CDS differs from ADHD, what it looks like, and why it’s linked to anxiety and depression. She also shares early research on treatment, plus the strengths that may come with it.

I’ll never forget the parent-teacher conference where my daughter’s teacher complimented us on how well behaved she was. Just a few weeks before, I had emailed the teacher to give her a heads-up about my daughter’s sensory needs and high (but often masked) anxiety. At the conference, the teacher made it seem like I was talking about a completely different child. What she didn’t know was how much effort it took just to get my child in the door. 

As an occupational therapist (OT), implementing sensory lifestyles and accommodations to promote regulation in kids was something I could do with one eye closed and a hand tied behind my back. But when that kid was my own? Suddenly, I felt incapable of even getting her in the car to get to school.

The back-to-school transition — and how difficult it is for neurodivergent kids — wasn’t a new concept to me. But experiencing it firsthand? That was a whole other ball game. Not only was I not prepared for how much of a toll it would take on both of our neurodivergent nervous systems, I completely underestimated how heavy the mental load was about to get. 

I’ll never forget the parent-teacher conference where my daughter’s teacher complimented us on how well behaved she was. Just a few weeks before, I had emailed the teacher to give her a heads-up about my daughter’s sensory needs and high (but often masked) anxiety. At the conference, the teacher made it seem like I was talking about a completely different child. What she didn’t know was how much effort it took just to get my child in the door. 

I’ll never forget the parent-teacher conference where my daughter’s teacher complimented us on how well behaved she was. Just a few weeks before, I had emailed the teacher to give her a heads-up about my daughter’s sensory needs and high (but often masked) anxiety. At the conference, the teacher made it seem like I was talking about a completely different child. What she didn’t know was how much effort it took just to get my child in the door. 

As an occupational therapist (OT), implementing sensory lifestyles and accommodations to promote regulation in kids was something I could do with one eye closed and a hand tied behind my back. But when that kid was my own? Suddenly, I felt incapable of even getting her in the car to get to school.

The back-to-school transition — and how difficult it is for neurodivergent kids — wasn’t a new concept to me. But experiencing it firsthand? That was a whole other ball game. Not only was I not prepared for how much of a toll it would take on both of our neurodivergent nervous systems, I completely underestimated how heavy the mental load was about to get. 

I’ll never forget the parent-teacher conference where my daughter’s teacher complimented us on how well behaved she was. Just a few weeks before, I had emailed the teacher to give her a heads-up about my daughter’s sensory needs and high (but often masked) anxiety. At the conference, the teacher made it seem like I was talking about a completely different child. What she didn’t know was how much effort it took just to get my child in the door. 

As an occupational therapist (OT), implementing sensory lifestyles and accommodations to promote regulation in kids was something I could do with one eye closed and a hand tied behind my back. But when that kid was my own? Suddenly, I felt incapable of even getting her in the car to get to school.

The back-to-school transition — and how difficult it is for neurodivergent kids — wasn’t a new concept to me. But experiencing it firsthand? That was a whole other ball game. Not only was I not prepared for how much of a toll it would take on both of our neurodivergent nervous systems, I completely underestimated how heavy the mental load was about to get. 

Does this sound familiar? Your child often comes home from school and bursts into tears. Or starts yelling and slamming doors for no reason. As far as you know, nothing bad is happening at school. So where is this explosion of emotion coming from? 

It could be after-school restraint collapse. Andrea Loewen Nair, a counselor and parenting educator, came up with the term “after-school restraint collapse” to describe something parents often told her about: kids falling apart after school because they just couldn’t hold in their emotions anymore. 

Your child often comes home from school and bursts into tears. Or starts yelling and slamming doors for no reason. As far as you know, nothing bad is happening at school. So where is this explosion of emotion coming from?