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This is an account of a friend of Luminate’s, detailing how they experience neurodivergence, how it affects them in work and in life, and how they support themselves/are supported with the more challenging aspects of their ADHD.
Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is a condition that affects people's behaviour. People with ADHD can seem restless and may have trouble with concentration and acting on impulse. [NHS] It’s worth mentioning that ADHD and the individuals who have it are not homogeneous — neurodivergence, how it presents outwardly, manifests internally, the coping mechanisms someone may have developed, and the individual’s daily struggles and natural gifts/advantages will all vary from person to person.
The purpose of sharing this story is to create some understanding of what ADHD can feel like in a world, and in workplaces, designed around neurotypical modes of thinking, learning and relating to others. We hope their story inspires workplaces to consider how they might create more neuro-inclusive environments through awareness- and empathy-building. Please note, we’ve left out any identifying details about our friend or the organisation they work for in this article.
But, thinking about the name itself implying a deficit or lack of attention feels ‘off’ — for me, there's probably too much attention, just focused on the wrong things.
There are a lot of positives that come along with having ADHD, but there are negatives too. For starters, it can feel overwhelming. Even the most regular of daily to-dos can quickly tally up to feel like a tidal wave of stress, making prioritisation feel impossible. I can't even begin to tell you how long it takes me to leave the house most days — even when my partner, son and dog are all sat in the car waiting.
It can feel like a thousand thoughts are constantly clambering to get through a single-file doorway. It's like you've got a live band playing in your living room, whilst the TV is on, your friends are talking to you and you're trying to read the same paragraph of a new book over and over again. It's maddening, but at times my ADHD can spark the most creative thoughts — which I love.
One of the big feelings I don't think gets discussed enough in relation to ADHD is how shameful it can feel. There's a huge sensitivity within me (called rejection sensitivity dysphoria) that means I can easily get triggered or feel attacked, even when there’s little reason to feel this way. I can have big emotional reactions that seem disproportionate within whatever context and be upsetting for those close to me, which brings on feelings of shame, guilt and self-directed anger at the idea of potentially hurting others.
I had demonstrated symptoms of ADHD from an early age, with both my primary and secondary schools offering pathways to a diagnosis. My parents declined to pursue these as they felt it wasn't warranted and didn't want me to take medication. So, because of that, I kinda just forgot about the label and assumed this was just 'how I was'.
I spent a lot of my childhood and teen years being told 'I had so much potential' and that I was 'gifted' — which felt hard to process as I couldn't seem to find the consistency within myself to reach that dangled carrot of my full academic potential. Although I did well at school and university, I always felt restless in these institutions—that I could or should be doing more. Really, I was always much happier in creative pursuits.
When I was 25, I moved in with my long-term partner, who noticed certain behaviours [that were upsetting or frustrating me] and suggested I look into trying to understand myself a bit more. Over the next few years, I accepted that I had ADHD but didn't pursue a formal diagnosis. Being stubborn, I didn't think there would be any benefit to having it in writing. But my struggles continued, perhaps even worsened, with mounting pressure at work and the general life stress that comes along with getting older.
I reached a particularly low period where I couldn't continue the way I was going — living in what felt like an almost constant state of chaos had taken its toll on my mental health. My girlfriend encouraged and supported me in tracking down a private diagnosis due to the fact the NHS waiting lists were 4+ years at the time. I was fortunate enough to be able to afford the assessment and in 2021 I was officially diagnosed with ADHD (combined type).
Even though I knew it was coming, the validation I felt in receiving my diagnosis was immense. It felt emotional looking back and realising that I had struggled through most of my life. It helped me feel more accepting of who I was and provided me with a better understanding of myself and explanations for how I worked.
This process of understanding myself is still ongoing. I want to be able to free myself from some of the thinking patterns, created as a child, that no longer serve me as an adult. I want to be able to be a calming and gentle presence for my little boy and partner. I want to be kinder to myself and offer myself the compassion needed to heal and grow.
I work in advertising as a creative copywriter — so for my entire career, my ADHD has been a superpower. I can get to creative concepts quicker, I can use my empathetic intuition to put myself in other people’s shoes and look at things from a totally different perspective than my peers. It's given me the ability to blossom in a fast-paced, competitive work environment, and it's been a lot of fun at times.
But, on the other hand — with success comes the demand to do it again and again, on multiple briefs, and all at the same time. And this is where I start to short-circuit. Losing prioritisation of what's important and what's needed for when. When the chaos of my inbox/calendar/to-do list matches the internal chaos of my brain — boom — I become totally paralysed. This then perpetuates my sense of stress and overwhelm, so the cycle continues...
At times, my inner monologue can be a real perfectionist — again, to the point of causing me to freeze up before I even begin. But I'm realising that this pattern of thinking only adds to my daily stress and am learning to be softer with myself.
Through research and over time, I've become aware of how I work and have created systems and routines to set myself up for success (hopefully) each day. I take daily supplements to help aid brain function and ADHD medication to help me put everything into single-file, so I can lock in and chip away at the day’s to-dos. I joke with my partner about how my ADHD meds are like a pair of glasses; if I don't take them, I can still do it, but it all feels blurry and takes me longer.
More recently, after becoming a dad, I've realised that even though I've already done a lot to help myself, I could be doing more to make my life easier. I've just tried to implement a more rigid morning routine, involving exercise, breakfast and alarm reminders to help me leave the house on time. So far, it's helped massively. Having a good start to the day (often due to getting some things sorted the night before) makes a huge difference.
At work, I'm transparent with all my colleagues on the different projects I work on and have no issues in being direct with how I work and what I need; like preferring face-to-face chats instead of long email chains or never-ending videoconference calls. Everyone has been immensely receptive and understanding to me being vulnerable and honest.
In being more open myself, I’ve discovered there's a huge amount of neurodiversity within the creative industries. I know at least five other creatives in the department who have ADHD too — but each with their own nuanced experiences of how it affects them and their lives. I feel as though, sometimes, the conveyor belt-like demands of advertising, to be unrelentingly generating new creative ideas, and for everything to be produced at a quicker and quicker pace, can have a negative effect on ADHD-ers (and those with other neurodiverse conditions).
I would like to see more work environments where we [neurodiverse folks] can thrive and be respected for working differently, instead of feeling pressured to conform and working extra hard to ‘fit in’ or simply just get by.
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It is estimated that 20% of the population is neurodivergent, which equates to 1 in 5 of our colleagues. Yet, our societal structures, workplaces included, are often set up with neurotypical brains in mind. The impact of trying to conform to neurotypical ways of thinking and behaving (called masking) and potential shame around being ‘different’, can have a severely detrimental effect on neurodivergent individuals’ mental health – leading to an increased susceptibility to anxiety, depression, low self-esteem and burnout.
There are ways, however, that workplaces can help support their neurodiverse colleagues including learning about neurodivergent conditions, working on team communication styles and fostering more inclusive meetings. Learn more about this in Luminate’s Understanding Neurodiversity session or check out CIPD's extensive resources on the subject.
And if you are struggling at work, as related to your mental health, neurodivergence or other, please do reach out to your line manager and/or GP. Though it can sometimes feel daunting, asking for help is always the healthy and responsible thing to do, for yourself and for your employer.
