Living authentically with ADHD in a neurotypical world

How ADHD presented for me

When I worked for a Learning Services provider, I was asked to record short “Tip of the Day” videos. They were meant to be quick and easy, just a few minutes in front of the camera. But for me, it was an exhausting, anxiety-filled production. I’d spend hours talking myself into getting ready, fixing my hair, doing my makeup, writing a perfect script, recording, re-recording and still hating how it looked. I’d make excuses for being late turning them in because I didn’t want anyone to see how hard something “simple” was for me. 

That’s the thing about ADHD: tasks that seem small to others can feel enormous when you’re juggling internal chaos and perfectionism. 

When you spend years trying to “pass” as neurotypical, it takes a toll. You become an expert at reading the room, adapting to others’ expectations and apologising. A lot. 

I once overshared with a former boss, at a previous organisation, because I wanted to be transparent about what I was struggling with. I thought honesty would build trust. Instead, parts of that conversation were used against me in a formal write-up. That experience taught me to retreat behind my mask again, to be careful, to stay “professional” and to never let my guard down. 

At work, masking can look like over-preparing, people-pleasing or replaying every interaction in your head to make sure you didn’t say the wrong thing. It can also mean spending hours trying to start a project but freezing because the outcome isn’t clear yet being too afraid to ask for clarification because you “should just know”. 

It’s the kind of invisible exhaustion that leaves you drained after something that looks easy to everyone else. I can facilitate a full-day workshop with enthusiasm and humour, then crash afterwards, completely depleted. Because for those of us with ADHD, “being on” takes real energy. 

Diagnosis was a game-changer

Getting diagnosed didn’t fix everything, but it gave me language, validation and permission to stop beating myself up. Instead of being a label, it was a lifeline for me. 

I realised that my brain doesn’t struggle to focus. It struggles to focus on things that don’t spark it. Once I understood that, I stopped forcing myself into productivity systems that weren’t designed for me. 

I built new habits that work with my brain, not against it :

• Setting timers and visual reminders
• Breaking projects into smaller, clearly defined outcomes
• Using body doubling, working alongside someone else to create gentle accountability
• Knowing when to walk away and come back later
• Making time for arts and crafts to recharge and regulate

And maybe most importantly, I stopped apologising for how I work best.

Creating inclusive workplaces

In the workplace, neurodiversity shouldn’t just be a buzzword, it should be a mindset. ADHD brains can be creative, resourceful and incredibly resilient but we thrive best in environments that value flexibility and clarity. 

If you work with someone who has ADHD (or you suspect you do), here are a few things that can really help: 

• Provide clear expectations and deadlines. Vague timelines can feel like quicksand
• Offer flexibility in how work gets done
• Recognise that ‘different’ isn’t a deficit, it’s often where innovation begins
• Encourage open conversations about support, without judgement

Acacium Group businesses, including Xyla, believe in inclusion and belonging, and that means making space for different kinds of thinkers. When people can bring their full, unmasked selves to work, everyone benefits. 

After years of hiding, I chose to stop masking and start living authentically. 

Because when we stop hiding and start being honest about how our brains work, we give others permission to do the same. We make space for authenticity, understanding and a little less shame and a lot more empathy. 

Living authentically, ADHD and all, has been the most liberating choice I’ve made.