Beyond Neurotypical Nonsense and the Labels It Creates

I'm staring at my phone, heart racing, as the calendar notification pops up: "Meeting with CEO - 10 minutes". The meeting I've been preparing for all week. The meeting I triple-checked this morning. The meeting that, somehow, I'm completely convinced is tomorrow.

This isn't a story about ADHD causing chaos (though it did and sometimes does). It's not about celebrating neurodiversity as a ‘gift’ or a ‘superpower’ (though it has its moments and I have talked about this previously). And it's definitely not about making excuses (though I've made plenty). This is about something more fundamental: how we navigate a world that wasn't built for the way our brains work, without either apologising for our existence or pretending everything's brilliant.

It may not be you that has ADHD or similar neurodiversities; you may have friends or family that are navigating this - you might be in a workplace or social environment where you are encountering people who may think differently than the majority of people in that space. I hope this piece resonates with you and/or helps you support those of us who are living in this world (of squirrels, rabbit-holes and Post-It notes!).

Dr. Gabor Maté, in his groundbreaking work Scattered Minds, suggests that ADHD isn't simply a disorder but a response to our environment - a different way of processing a world that increasingly demands our attention while giving us fewer reasons to maintain it. He writes, 

“Never at rest the mind of the ADHD adult flits about like some deranged bird that can light here or there for a while but is perched no-where long enough to make a home.” Gabor Mate

This resonates deeply with my experience. For years, I masked my differences, developed elaborate coping mechanisms, and alternated between seeing myself as broken or pretending I was fine. The reality, as I've come to understand it, lies somewhere in between these extremes. And to be fair, I didn’t even know I was ‘masking’; I had just become accustomed to trying to fit in when the world’s square hole didn’t really fit my round peg.

Dr. Daniel Amen's research using SPECT brain imaging has revealed what many of us have intuitively known: there isn't just one type of ADHD, but several distinct patterns of brain function. This explains why some of us are primarily inattentive, others hyperactive, and many a complex mixture of both. More importantly, it explains why one-size-fits-all approaches to managing ADHD often fall short.

When I finally received my diagnosis in adulthood just over a year ago, it wasn't a moment of celebration or despair. Instead, it was like someone had handed me a new lens through which to view my life - one that brought certain things into sharp focus while raising new questions. As Brené Brown notes in her work on vulnerability and shame, 

"You are imperfect, you are wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging." Brene Brown

This applies powerfully to the neurodivergent experience.

The UK context adds another layer to this discussion. Despite the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) updating its guidelines to better recognise adult ADHD, many of us still face significant barriers to diagnosis and support. The average waiting time for an adult ADHD assessment in the NHS now exceeds two years in many areas. This institutional challenge reflects a broader societal struggle to understand and accommodate neurodivergent individuals. Indeed, if you are a woman, the stats are even more discouraging and the influx of new diagnoses in adult women isn’t a “everyone has ADHD these days” but more a “why didn’t people notice it sooner?”.

This piece isn't about finding a magic solution or repackaging ADHD as a secret advantage. Instead, it's about exploring a more nuanced truth: how we can acknowledge our differences without being defined by them, face our challenges without being limited by them, and find our path without either apologising for who we are or pretending everything's perfect.

The Diagnosis Journey: More Questions Than Answers

"Everybody's a bit ADHD these days, aren't they?"

This dismissive comment, tossed casually across a dinner table, landed differently after my diagnosis. It exemplifies the peculiar position many late-diagnosed adults find ourselves in: navigating between increased awareness and persistent scepticism, between relief at understanding and frustration at past struggles.

Going back to Gabor Maté, someone in whom I have found a lot of solace and wisdom, he argues that ADHD isn't simply a collection of symptoms to be managed but a response to our early environment. ADHD is not an inherited disease, but an inherited susceptibility. This perspective challenges both the purely genetic model and the notion that ADHD is merely a modern invention. For many of us, this reframing helps make sense of our life stories.

“Our minds are a scattered forest of thoughts, constantly shifting and changing like the wind.” Gabor Mate

Looking back, the signs were there. The teacher who wrote "bright but easily distracted" on every report card. The endless cycle of starting projects with enthusiasm only to abandon them halfway. The constant battle with time - either having too much or not enough, but never quite the right amount. These weren't character flaws or lack of discipline; they were manifestations of a fundamentally different way of processing the world.

Dr. Daniel Amen's work has revealed at least seven distinct types of ADHD, each with its own pattern of brain activity. This research helps explain why some of us struggle primarily with focus, others with impulse control, and many with an intricate combination of both. That means that one treatment does not fit everyone. The treatment must be tailored to individual brain patterns. This challenges the one-size-fits-all approach that still dominates much ADHD treatment. In fact, my experience has been initial consultation + long wait + appointment + autism diagnosis + extra appointment (second opinion) + ADHD diagnosis + medication (and not one conversation with anyone other than reordering drugs in the last 12 months, including with my GP who referred me!).

But perhaps the most challenging aspect of late diagnosis isn't the practical hurdles but the emotional reckoning it demands. As Brené Brown's research on shame and vulnerability suggests, 

"We cannot selectively numb emotions. When we numb the painful emotions, we also numb the positive emotions." Brene Brown

Many of us spent years developing sophisticated masking strategies, becoming experts at appearing "normal" while exhausting ourselves in the process. The diagnosis doesn't provide all the answers. Instead, it often opens the door to more nuanced questions: How much of my personality is ADHD, and how much is just me? Where does neurodiversity end and personal responsibility begin? What parts of my coping mechanisms are helpful adaptations, and what parts are harmful masking?

These questions reflect a deeper truth about the diagnosis journey: it's not just about understanding a condition; it's about reframing our entire life narrative. As Dr. Russell Barkley, a leading ADHD researcher, puts it: "ADHD is not a problem of not knowing what to do; it's a problem of not doing what you know." He also makes it abundantly clear that ‘normative’ brain function is not easy or even possible for many ADHDers.

The Myth of ‘Normal’

What exactly is a "normal" brain? The question becomes more complex the deeper you look. The concept of neurodiversity, first coined by Australian sociologist Judy Singer in the late 1990s, challenges our fundamental assumptions about what constitutes normal cognitive functioning. It's not just about accepting differences - it's about questioning why we decided certain ways of thinking and behaving were "standard" in the first place.

The modern workplace provides a perfect example of this arbitrary standardisation. Open-plan offices, nine-to-five schedules, and hour-long meetings weren't designed based on evidence about human cognitive function. They were inherited from industrial-era factories, where standardisation served machine efficiency rather than human effectiveness. Yet these structures persist, and those who struggle with them are often labelled as the problem.

The UK Equality Act (2010) recognises ADHD as a disability when it has a "substantial and long-term adverse effect on normal day-to-day activities". But this framing itself reveals our societal bias - what exactly are "normal" day-to-day activities? Who decided what's normal?

Dr. Thomas Brown's research on executive functions provides crucial insight here. His studies show that what we call ADHD isn't a simple attention deficit but a complex interplay of executive functions that work differently from the presumed norm. These differences affect how we:

- Activate and organise for tasks

- Focus and shift attention

- Regulate alertness and processing speed

- Manage frustration and modulate emotions

- Utilise working memory and recall

- Monitor and self-regulate actions

“Anyone who exhibits the classic symptoms of ADHD will have difficulty with all or most of the seven core executive functions.” – Russell Barkley

This isn't about deficit - it's about difference. The problem isn't that ADHD brains don't work; it's that they don't work in the way society expects them to.

The medical model of ADHD, while useful for understanding and treating significant impairments, can sometimes overshadow this broader discussion about neurodiversity. When we frame natural variations in human cognition purely as disorders to be treated, we miss opportunities to question and potentially improve the environments that make these differences problematic.

In a different type of society - one that valued spontaneity over scheduling, creativity over conformity, intense focus over consistent production - many ADHD traits might be advantages rather than impairments. This isn't to romanticise ADHD or deny its challenges, but to highlight how context-dependent our understanding of ‘normal’ really is.

The reality is that human brains are incredibly diverse in how they process information, manage time, handle emotions, and maintain attention. This diversity served our species well throughout evolution. Hunter-gatherer societies benefited from having members with different cognitive styles - some focused on immediate threats, others on long-term planning, some noticing every environmental detail, others seeing broader patterns.

Beyond Excuses and Superpowers

There's a peculiar paradox in ADHD discourse. On one side, we have those who dismiss it entirely: "Everyone gets distracted sometimes". On the other hand, we have the recent trend of framing ADHD as a hidden gift: "It's not a disorder, it's a superpower!". Both miss the mark in my opinion, despite the fact I have previously talked about both.

The truth likely occupies a more complex middle ground. ADHD is real, with documented impacts on executive function, emotional regulation, and daily living. The challenges aren't imaginary - they're supported by decades of research and brain imaging studies. But neither are they universal excuses for every struggle or failure.

I think one element jumps to the front of mind as I write this piece: time management. Yes, ADHD affects our perception and management of time - this is well-documented in research. But acknowledging this fact doesn't absolve us of responsibility. Instead, it provides a foundation for developing more effective strategies. Understanding that my brain processes time differently led me to create systems that work with this reality rather than fighting against it. For instance, I have a process for writing the 3500 word article that goes out every Friday. There have been many times where it has been at the last minute and I have been rushing to get this written. Nowadays, I have the support of a wonderful Virtual Assistant who proofreads this (because I was making too many errors and creating more stress on my overactive brain!). Now, I have to have the first draft to Marc by the end of play Tuesday for him to do his checks and for me to then still be able to publish it in time. That has required me to plan in advance, diarise time for writing, image generation and uploading, as well as get into zones of hyperfocus in advance of my Tuesday deadline!

This is where personal responsibility meets neurodiversity. The goal isn't to use ADHD as an excuse or to pretend it doesn't affect us. The goal is to understand its impact so we can respond effectively. As Russell Barkley notes in his research, ADHD primarily affects "performance" rather than "knowledge" - we often know what to do, but struggle with doing it consistently.

The "superpower" narrative, while well-intentioned, can be equally problematic. Yes, some ADHD traits can be advantageous in certain contexts. Hyperfocus, when channelled effectively, can lead to deep expertise and creative breakthroughs. Quick processing of multiple inputs can aid in crisis response or creative problem-solving. But framing these as superpowers dismisses the very real challenges many face and can create unrealistic expectations.

If we were to take a typical workday, for example, the same trait that helps generate innovative solutions in a group creativity session might make it incredibly difficult to complete any subsequent paperwork that falls out of the meeting. The ability to notice everything happening in an environment - great for certain tasks - can make it impossible to focus in an open-plan office. These aren't superpowers or curses; they're simply differences that help in some contexts and hinder in others.

If I am overstimulated, I am processing way too many things and can’t focus on what I should be doing. It’s why I now ensure I have an AI notetaker in every virtual meeting (I love Supernormal as it is my second brain and minute-taker in every interaction!).

The key lies in understanding and working with these differences rather than against them. This might mean:

- Creating environments that support our cognitive style

- Developing strategies that leverage our strengths

- Building support systems that compensate for challenges

- Learning when and how to advocate for necessary accommodations

But perhaps most importantly, it means accepting that some days will be better than others. Some strategies will work brilliantly for a while, then need adjustment. Some environments will be easier to navigate than others. This isn't failure - it's the reality of living with a brain that works differently from the presumed norm.

Practical Reality: Working With, Not Against

Let me paint you a picture of my typical day - one that might resonate with others who think differently. It's not a tale of constant chaos, nor one of perfectly optimised productivity. Instead, it's a story of strategic adaptation.

5:00 AM: My phone alarm goes off. Actually, three alarms go off - not because I sleep through them, but because I've learned that my brain needs multiple transition points to shift from sleep to full wakefulness. The first alarm tells me to wake up, the second to get up, the third to leave the bedroom. This isn't about inability; it's about working with my brain's natural rhythm.

My desk tells its own story. It's not the minimalist workspace often advocated by productivity gurus, nor is it the stereotype of ADHD chaos. Instead, it's deliberately designed around how my brain processes information. Everything I need is visible but organised into clear zones (most of the time at least anyway!). The noticeboard is large and prominently displayed - not because I can't remember appointments, but because my brain processes visual information more effectively than digital reminders. I have Post-Its coming out of my ears - all sizes and colours and digital To-Do lists to boot.

The most significant shift came in how I approach tasks. Traditional time management advice suggested breaking large projects into smaller chunks - sound advice, but it missed a crucial element. I learned that my brain engages better with tasks when they're framed as challenges rather than chores. A report doesn't just need writing; it needs conquering. This isn't mere semantics - it's about working with my brain's reward system rather than fighting it.

Some practical strategies that have proven effective:

1. Time Blocking with Buffers

- Schedule in 45-minute blocks

- Build in 15-minute transition periods (I like to use this for Instagram scrolls!)

- Accept that some days, these blocks will shift

2. External Scaffolding

- Visual reminders in key locations (Post-Its and noticeboards are my go-to)

- Digital tools for recurring tasks (I have a widget on my iPhone homepage)

- Regular check-ins with accountability partners

3. Environment Design

- Designated spaces for different types of work

- Minimal visual noise in focus areas

- Easy access to frequently used items (my wife goes mad that I have four pairs of glasses on the go at all times and often stored in different places but it really helps me to not have to worry about where each pair is as long as I can find one!).

4. Energy Management

- Work with natural energy peaks

- Plan high-focus tasks during optimal times

- Build in recovery periods (this I do less well than I would like).

The key realisation has been that effectiveness isn't about forcing myself into a neurotypical mould. It's about understanding how my brain works and creating systems that support rather than fight against its natural tendencies. This approach extends beyond individual strategies to how we interact with others. Clear communication about working style isn't making excuses; it's professional courtesy. Explaining that I process information better through email than voice notes isn't asking for special treatment - it's facilitating more effective collaboration. And, I tell people that I will be messing about with a stress ball or walking around in the meeting or writing things down that seem unrelated - so they aren’t clogging valuable processing power in the moment (by the way, this was a big one for me to get my head around: rather than trying so hard to remember that thing that I just couldn’t forget but also being present in the conversation at hand, I just let myself make a note as long as I was open and honest with who I was talking to about what I was doing!).

But perhaps the most important practical reality has been learning to distinguish between challenges that need accommodating and those that need addressing. Not every ADHD-related difficulty requires a workaround; some require direct confrontation and development of new skills. I can’t just do every meeting in my Airpods walking in nature; sometimes I actually need to be in a room with people doing shizz!

The Broader Context: Shifting Paradigms

The conversation around ADHD - and neurodiversity more broadly - is undergoing a significant transformation. We're moving beyond the binary thinking of "disordered versus normal" toward a more nuanced understanding of cognitive diversity. But this shift isn't happening in a vacuum.

The landscape is particularly complex. While the law now provides protection for neurodivergent individuals, the practical implementation often falls short. As we have said, many NHS statistics show alarming waiting times for ADHD assessments and then treatment is often determined by postcode or payment. This creates a two-tier system where access to understanding one's own brain becomes a matter of financial privilege.

Forward-thinking organisations are beginning to recognise that neurodiversity isn't just about compliance with equality legislation - it's about tapping into different ways of thinking and problem-solving. Companies like EY and GCHQ have implemented neurodiversity programmes, acknowledging that different cognitive styles bring valuable perspectives to their operations.

Yet there's a deeper issue at play. Our education system, workplace structures, and social institutions were largely designed with neurotypical brains in mind. The standard office environment - with its open plans (or the alternative - glass boxes where I can see multiple people milling around to distract me!), impromptu meetings, and constant interruptions - often works against the strengths of neurodivergent individuals. The traditional 9-5 workday doesn't account for different energy patterns or focus cycles. Why do we persist with this so much?

The pandemic inadvertently created a natural experiment in workplace flexibility. Remote work and flexible hours showed that different ways of working weren't just possible - they were often more productive. This has opened up broader conversations about workplace adaptation and individual needs. However, there's a risk in the current discourse. As ADHD awareness increases, we're seeing both positive and problematic trends. There seems to be increased recognition with a growing acceptance of neurodiversity but this is coupled with trivialisation of genuine challenges, commercialisation of coping strategies and over-simplification of complex issues

The media plays a significant role here. Social media platforms like TikTok have become powerful vectors for ADHD awareness, but they also risk reducing complex neurological differences to simplified lists of traits or ‘relatable’ content. This can lead to both self-diagnosis without proper support and scepticism about genuine diagnoses. I am not a huge fan of non-medical self-diagnoses, but I accept that everyone is on their own journey of discovery.

The role of technology presents another double-edged sword. Digital tools can provide valuable support for executive function challenges, but they can also exacerbate attention issues. The same devices that help us organise our lives are also engineered to capture and fragment our attention. Did someone say another Instagram Reel?

Redefining Success: Beyond Conventional Metrics

Success, in a neurotypical world, often comes packaged in familiar wrapping: linear career progression, consistent productivity, and the ability to juggle multiple commitments without dropping any balls. But what happens when your brain operates on a different operating system? For many of us with ADHD, traditional metrics of success can feel like trying to measure water with a ruler. It's not that the measurements are impossible - they're just the wrong tool for the job. The challenge isn't about lowering standards; it's about defining more authentic and meaningful measures of achievement.

The conventional corporate path assumes steady, incremental progress. But many neurodivergent individuals experience success in bursts - periods of intense achievement followed by consolidation or change. My own career has followed this pattern: intense periods of focus and innovation interspersed with times of reflection and recalibration. I have done the usual career progression, then squiggled and also at times (like now) juggled multiple roles pretty well.

The key shift comes in recognising that this pattern isn't a flaw - it's a feature. Just as a Formula 1 car performs differently from a family saloon, different brain types have different optimal operating conditions. Success isn't about forcing yourself into a predetermined mould; it's about understanding and working with your unique cognitive style.

For some, success means embracing a portfolio career rather than a linear progression. For others, it involves creating unconventional working patterns that honour their energy cycles. In my case, it meant learning to value my ability to make unexpected connections and generate novel solutions, even if the path to these insights didn't follow a traditional route.

The metrics themselves need reconsidering:

- Instead of consistent daily productivity, measure overall output and impact

- Rather than time management, focus on energy management

- Replace multitasking goals with deep focus achievements

- Value innovation and problem-solving alongside routine task completion

This isn't about making excuses or lowering standards. Often, it's about raising them in areas where neurodivergent thinking provides an advantage while finding innovative ways to manage areas of challenge.

Moving Forward with Clarity

1. Understanding Your Operating System

The foundation of everything else lies in truly understanding how your brain works. Just as you wouldn't try to run Windows software on a Mac without proper adaptation, working with your brain rather than against it is crucial. This means taking time to recognise your natural rhythms and patterns, identifying when you work best, and accepting that your different way of processing information is exactly that - different, not deficient.

2. Practical Application

Creating deliberate systems and environments isn't about finding perfect solutions, but about developing frameworks that support rather than hinder your natural tendencies. Some days these systems will work brilliantly; others they'll need adjustment. That's not failure - it's fine-tuning. Success comes from building flexible structures that bend rather than break.

3. Professional Navigation

Clear communication about your working style isn't making excuses; it's creating conditions for success. Focus on delivering outcomes rather than adhering to prescribed methods. Build alliances with people who understand your strengths, and choose roles that align with your natural capabilities rather than constantly fighting against your grain. It's about finding your place rather than forcing yourself into spaces that don't fit.

4. Personal Development

It's vital to distinguish between challenges that stem from ADHD and those that simply require skill development. Not everything is ADHD-related, and not every ADHD-related challenge needs accommodation - some need direct addressing through learning and practice. This honest assessment allows for genuine growth while acknowledging real neurological differences.

5. Broader Context

Stay informed about developments in neurodiversity understanding, not to jump on every trend, but to identify approaches that might work for you. Advocate for necessary accommodations when needed, but also contribute to creating more inclusive environments that benefit everyone. Your experience and insight can help shape better workplaces for all.

6. Adaptable Approach

Working with ADHD isn't about finding a final, perfect solution. It's about developing an adaptable approach that evolves as you learn more about yourself and as circumstances change. Success isn't measured by how well you conform to neurotypical expectations, but by how effectively you create a life that works with your brain rather than against it.

7. Continuous Journey

The path of understanding and working with ADHD continues. As workplace cultures evolve and our knowledge grows, new opportunities and challenges will emerge. The key is maintaining flexibility while staying true to what works for you. After all, the goal isn't to overcome ADHD or to pretend it's all positive - it's to build a life that acknowledges both its challenges and its possibilities, creating success on your own terms while meeting the genuine demands of work and life.

In essence, it's about writing your own operating manual rather than trying to follow someone else's. This isn't just about surviving in a neurotypical world - it's about finding ways to thrive on your own terms. 

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