Navigating ADHD: From Chaos to Career Success

Embracing My ADHD: From Chaos to Career Realisations

To celebrate the start of ADHD Awareness Month, this was supposed to be a short post... but, in classic ADHD fashion, it spiralled into something much longer (we've all been there, right?). So, grab a cuppa tea, settle in, and get ready for some honest, overshare-worthy reflections.

I’m diving into the highs, the lows, and everything in between—from masking who I was to realising that embracing my quirks actually makes me more productive. If you’ve ever felt like you’re trying to squeeze into a box that wasn’t built for you, this one’s for you.

I'd love your thoughts, feedback, or stories—because we all know I’ll happily overshare right back!

ADHD Awareness Month: Reflections on a Late Diagnosis and Career Path

As ADHD Awareness Month arrives, I’ve been reflecting on my journey since being diagnosed in January 2024 at the age of 36. Looking back, the signs were always there—practically waving neon flags—but I was too busy focusing on whatever else had caught my attention.?

Now, working in Human Resources, I’m passionate about learning to advocate for neurodiversity in the workplace. There’s a unique strength in neurodivergent minds that’s often overlooked. When organisations stop trying to make everyone fit into the same box, we can unlock talent and potential we didn’t even know existed.?

From Top of the Class to Panic Attacks

Growing up in New Zealand, I was your typical ‘gold star’ student. Primary school? Easy. Teachers loved me, I loved learning, and everything just clicked. But then came secondary school, and things started to unravel in the most dramatic, slow-motion fashion. Suddenly, instead of praise, I was getting told things like, “You just need to focus more and try harder.”

Right, because if focus could magically appear just by someone telling me to “get it together,” my locker combination wouldn’t have been a weekly mystery that sent me straight to the school office to ask for a reminder.

What I didn’t realise back then was that ADHD comes with a delightful little sidekick called Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD). Think of RSD as the emotional equivalent of stepping on a Lego—tiny but somehow capable of bringing you to your knees. Any perceived criticism or failure feels like a personal attack, and it doesn’t take much to make you feel like you’ve blown it completely. So, when a teacher told me, “You’re not living up to your potential,” I didn’t hear, “Oh, you can do better.” I heard, “You are stupid and deeply flawed as a human being.”

Naturally, instead of rolling up my sleeves and giving things a proper go, RSD convinced me that the risk of failure wasn’t worth the emotional rollercoaster. Why try, when failing (again) would feel like the end of the world? The fear wasn’t about the work itself; it was about the terrifying what ifs. What if I try and still fail? What if I disappoint someone again? Better to avoid that whole mess, right?

RSD is like having a constant internal drama production going on in your head where you’re cast as the lead in Failure: The Musical. You’ve already failed before you’ve even started, and everyone’s watching. And, let’s be honest, when your brain is running that show, pushing through and “just trying harder” feels like torture. So there I was—neither lazy nor unmotivated—just paralysed by the thought of getting it wrong and having to live with yet another emotional gut-punch.

Where I did thrive, though, was project work. Give me something to really sink my teeth into, and I was off. I remember one project where I spent weeks creating a 3D to scale model of the Otago Peninsula. Picture this: polystyrene layers, hot knives, glue everywhere. My parents were begging me to go to bed, and I was out here saying, “Sleep? Who needs sleep when perfection is on the line?” The kitchen looked like a craft store explosion, but I was in the zone.

It wasn’t just about the model, though. I spent weekends with my dad driving around the actual Otago Peninsula, taking wind-speed measurements just for the fun of it. This was my “I’m going to be a meteorologist” phase—right before I pivoted to radiology, of course. But looking back, I realise this was the moment I truly fell in love with data. Something about collecting numbers, understanding patterns, and making sense of it all lit a fire in me - but ask me what 7x3 is and I'll freeze. These weren’t just quirky, passing phases; they were ADHD-fuelled hyper fixations. Whatever captured my interest got 110% of my energy—until something new inevitably came along.

But while I could throw myself into these all-consuming projects, exams were a whole different nightmare. NCEA season rolled around, and I was paralysed by anxiety, stuck in the vicious cycle of panic attacks and sleepless nights, desperately trying to cram information into a brain that simply didn’t want it. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t manage the pressure, and definitely couldn’t find the off switch for the panic. At the time, I thought it was just a personal failure, like something in me was broken. But looking back now, it’s clear that my undiagnosed ADHD was steering the ship all along.

Impulse Meets Adventure: A One-Way Ticket to the UK?

At 17, with no plans for university (my exam results had seen to that), and after years of therapy and being medicated for anxiety and depression, I made one of the most impulsive decisions of my life. I bought a one-way ticket from New Zealand to the UK, armed with about $700 in my pocket and no real plan other than "I'm only going to be gone for six months" then ill come back and figure life out. Looking back, it’s clear this wasn’t just youthful spontaneity—it was ADHD in action, chasing novelty, stimulation, and change.?

Once I landed, my career turned into a series of zigzags. I’ve worked as a nanny, in pubs, cafes, in IT, Telecoms, Software, marketing, recruitment, and, eventually, HR. For a long time, I thought my inability to stick with one job was a sign that something was wrong with me, that I couldn’t settle or commit. But now, I see it differently.?

Masking Before I Knew It Had a Name: How Hiding Myself Affected My Work

I was masking before I even knew there was a word for it. For years, I thought I was just playing along, doing what everyone else was doing. In reality, masking is when you pretend to be someone else so you don’t stand out, and let me tell you, I had it down to a fine art. It’s like being on stage, performing a role where your brain isn't constantly juggling 17 different things at once.

In school, if someone casually mentioned a band, I wouldn’t just nod and move on. Oh no. I’d go home, listen to every single album they’d ever made, and memorise their entire discography. Why? Because the next time we talked, I needed to have something to say—anything to avoid the awkwardness of small talk. I’ve never been great at chit-chat. The weather? Sure, but how many times can we discuss clouds? Weekend plans? If I cant remember what I did, I'm not going to remember what you said you were up to....

Fast forward to adulthood, and I was still at it, especially in the workplace. I’d research colleagues or new clients like I was preparing for a thesis—learning their interests, backgrounds, and hobbies just to survive those office chats. Behind the scenes, my brain was in overdrive, trying to keep up with conversations and projects while pretending I wasn’t totally overwhelmed. The energy it took to maintain that mask was exhausting. But I felt like it was necessary—if people saw the real me, the one who struggles with focus and skips the small talk, they’d think I wasn’t capable.

The thing is, masking doesn’t just drain you emotionally—it kills your productivity. I spent so much time trying to fit into this idea of what a “perfect employee” should be, that I lost sight of how I actually work best. Instead of tapping into my strengths, I was burning out trying to fit into a mold that wasn’t made for me.

Then I realised something crucial: I’m far more productive when I stop pretending and start working with how my brain is wired. When I embrace my strengths—like hyperfocus, creativity, and problem-solving—I get so much more done, with way less mental strain. I’m more effective, more engaged, and way happier when I’m just being me.

Now? I aim to be upfront about how I work best, I say sorry for not saying please and thank you in advance of a day when I know it's going to be crazy busy, because my brain is already 20 steps ahead when I ask you to so something. It turns out I’m a whole lot better at my job when I stop wasting energy pretending to be someone I’m not.

From Pouring Pints to Project Management: Learning to Adapt

Here’s the thing about ADHD that I’ve come to realise: it’s not about being unable to stick with something—it’s about collecting experiences. All those jobs I thought I was jumping between? They’ve actually equipped me with a unique set of transferable skills, helping me see connections where others might not.

Take bartending, for example. Running a busy bar feels a lot like managing a project. You’ve got your process, you’re anticipating what’s coming next, and everything’s flowing smoothly. But then, there’s Guinness. Picture this: you’re just about to finish up an order, everything’s under control, and then someone adds a Guinness at the very last second. Now you’re stuck waiting for it to settle, and while you’re watching it foam up, the momentum you had? Gone. Your flow’s interrupted, you have already forgotten the next person's order, lost sight of the next person in the queue, and you start thinking about the washing that's been in the machine at home for 2 days because you have been made to stand still.

That’s ADHD in the workplace, too. You’re nearing the end of a project, feeling like you’ve got everything under control, and then—bam—a new requirement or priority gets thrown at you. Just like Guinness, everything comes to a halt. You have to stop, rework, and rethink. By the time you’ve adjusted, you’ve lost the rhythm, and what should’ve been a smooth finish becomes a scramble, your hyperfocus for it has gone and you drag yourself, trudging through the mud to get to the project finish line that looked like it was going to be a sprint the day before.

But here’s the thing: I've been learning how to manage these constant interruptions and unexpected changes throughout my career and it has given me an edge. It's taught me adaptability and patience. Whether it’s a pint that needs time to settle or a project that suddenly shifts direction, I’ve learned how to adjust, problem-solve on the fly, and keep things moving—even when the flow is completely thrown off. That flexibility, born out of constantly having to pivot, is one of the key skills I bring to the table

The Year My Brain Got Louder: ADHD and Life After an Accident?

In December 2017, everything came to a halt. I was in an accident that left me physically disabled, and the fast-paced, globe-trotting life I’d built for myself was no longer possible. The physical hyperactivity that had always fuelled me had nowhere to go, and my brain became louder than ever.?

ADHD loudness isn’t just noise. It’s an endless stream of thoughts, ideas, and to-do lists—all fighting for attention at once. Before the accident, I’d stayed busy enough to avoid getting overwhelmed by it. But when my body was forced to stop, my mind had no outlet. It was chaos.?

Then came COVID-19, and suddenly the world joined me in isolation. For the first time in years, I had time to reassess my career. I couldn’t go back to the country-hopping, travel-heavy work I’d been doing. So, I shifted gears, threw myself into HR and Project Management qualifications, and powered through thanks to the familiar force of hyperfocus.?

Finally Getting Answers: ADHD in Women?

In 2022, I read an article about ADHD that felt eerily familiar. Could this be what I’d been dealing with all these years? When I brought it up with my therapist, they brushed it off as a “trend.” But a good friend encouraged me to keep pushing, and I finally went for a private diagnosis. On January 3, 2024, everything made sense: I had very clear combined-type ADHD.?

For years, ADHD had been seen as something affecting hyperactive boys bouncing off the walls. Meanwhile, girls like me—quietly overthinking, anxious, and struggling—slipped through the cracks. It wasn’t until the 1990s that research into ADHD in women really took off. No wonder so many of us are only now being diagnosed in our 30s and 40s.?

Tech to the Rescue: My ADHD Toolbox?

Since my diagnosis, I’ve built what I call my ADHD toolbox—apps and systems that help me stay on track. Growing up, I was always a tech geek (thanks to my dad’s computer shop), so I naturally turned to technology to help manage my brain.?

Trello and Notion and Microsoft tools help me organise tasks and projects (even if I still forget things quite often, I'm trying!). ChatGPT has been a game-changer in turning my chaotic thoughts into something more structured—like this article! It’s not cheating; it’s using the tools that work for how my brain operates.?

Where I Am Now: Embracing the Messy Bits?

Despite all these new realisations, I’m still the person who loses her keys, gets distracted mid-conversation, and struggles to remember what day it is, time is just a concept and verbal instructions go in one ear and out the other. But I’m learning to embrace it. My career path may look unconventional, but it’s mine. Every detour has brought me to where I am now, and I wouldn’t change a thing.?

If You’re Wondering About ADHD...?

If you’re an adult who’s considering seeking an ADHD diagnosis, don’t let doubt hold you back. Getting diagnosed isn’t about labels—it’s about understanding how your brain works. For me, it was like putting on glasses for the first time. Everything suddenly made sense. Whether you’re thriving in your career or feeling stuck, understanding how your brain operates is empowering.?

If you want to chat about ADHD, neurodiversity in the workplace, or anything in between, feel free to reach out. I’m always up for a conversation! ?or if you have any questions, I clearly have a lot more I could share.....

Until my next tangent......Thank for reading ?? ?