Living with ADHD, Leading Neurodiversity Services: Reflections from a Remote Leader

When people hear that I’m the Head of Neurodiversity at The Owl Centre – overseeing autism and ADHD diagnostic and support services across the UK – they often assume I must have everything perfectly organised, balanced, and under control. What they don’t always expect is that I also live with ADHD.

And yet, that’s exactly what gives me the insight, urgency, and empathy to lead well. My ADHD isn’t something I need to “overcome” to do my job – it’s part of what makes me good at it.

In my role, I work closely with NHS Trusts, Integrated Care Boards (ICBs), and a wide range of external and internal stakeholders. I lead a remote team, collaborate with commissioners, clinicians, data analysts, and operations staff – all while trying to contribute to national conversations about how we better serve neurodivergent individuals. It’s dynamic, complex, and deeply meaningful work.

But it also comes with very real challenges, and I’ve had to advocate – often quietly, sometimes more directly – for ways of working that enable me (and others like me) to thrive.

The Complexity of Collaboration When You Think Differently

One of the hardest parts of being a neurodivergent leader is the expectation, often implicit, that we should process information the same way as everyone else.

In meetings, I’m frequently presented with spreadsheets, dashboards, and graphs, and expected to offer instant insights. The pressure to think out loud or to reach conclusions in real-time can feel overwhelming, even paralysing. I can interpret data, and I can do it well, but I need time. Time to step back, digest, make connections, and consider implications. Without that, the quality of my thinking is compromised.

And yet, interestingly, ADHD also brings a powerful capacity for quick problem-solving. When I’m engaged, when a problem lights up the right part of my brain, I can generate ideas and solutions in minutes. This ability to think laterally and creatively is one of my greatest strengths – but it isn’t always predictable, and it doesn’t always align with the pace others expect.

That’s why I’ve learned to be clear with colleagues about how I work best. I ask for agendas in advance, request data ahead of time, and advocate for asynchronous input wherever possible. When we design collaborative spaces that don’t rely solely on real-time cognition, everyone benefits, not just those with ADHD.

Managing Priorities in a Demanding, Remote Role

Working remotely offers flexibility and autonomy, both of which are essential for me. But it also blurs the lines between urgency and importance, between the immediate and the strategic.

ADHD makes prioritisation tricky. Everything can feel equally important in the moment, and the ping of a new email or Teams message can derail even the most carefully planned workday.

The biggest challenge for me isn’t productivity – it’s protecting space to think. In a senior leadership role, meetings can easily expand to fill the entire week. I’ve had to learn that if I don’t actively block out time to zoom out, reflect, and do deep work, it simply won’t happen.

This isn’t just about personal preference – it’s essential to good leadership. The work I do involves designing future-facing services, leading through change, and responding to policy shifts across multiple regions. That requires cognitive space. It requires stepping away from the noise.

So, I’ve become more intentional about how I manage my calendar. I schedule thinking time as if it were a meeting. I give myself permission to go for a walk on my walking pad if it helps me solve a problem. I build in time to review documents away from my screen. And I support others in my team to do the same.

Embracing Neurodivergent Leadership

There are aspects of ADHD that make me a better leader. I’m intuitive, responsive, values-driven, and relentlessly focused on what’s human in the systems we build. I question assumptions. I notice gaps. I bring energy and urgency to improving things.

But I’ve also had to learn to slow down. To pause before I reply. To ask myself: Does this need fixing now? Or do I just find the friction uncomfortable?

Working with multiple NHS partners and ICBs means navigating varied commissioning frameworks, timelines, and priorities. I’ve learned that being neurodivergent in these spaces often means holding competing tensions – wanting to innovate while respecting governance, needing clarity but living in complexity, thinking fast but working in systems that move slowly.

It’s not always easy. But it’s a space where my lived experience matters. I understand what it’s like to feel excluded by systems that weren’t designed for you. That’s why I push for change – not just in policy, but in culture.

Final Thoughts

Living with ADHD while leading neurodiversity services is not a contradiction – it’s a congruence. I live the reality I’m trying to improve for others. That comes with challenges, but it also comes with immense purpose.

To my fellow neurodivergent professionals: you don’t need to work despite how your brain works. You can work because of it. We need more leaders who think differently, question norms, and bring their full selves to the table.

And to the wider system, let’s keep building spaces where all brains are not only welcomed, but valued. Because inclusion isn’t about fitting in – it’s about making room.

If you’re working in neurodiversity, commissioning diagnostic services, or designing inclusive systems, I’d love to connect and share learning.

First published on LinkedIn on 15 May 2025.