The pain of hidden difference

 
 

It is 8:00 on a rainy, autumn Monday morning. I am in a coffee shop in a supermarket in Slough, having left home 5:45 to get here. I am tired and therefore not fully on my game. I am waiting for my boss to arrive, as we are delivering a workshop together for a client and are having a breakfast pre-meet. Quite an uplifting scene, isn’t it? Stay with me, it gets even better…

He arrives, drops his bag on the floor next to me and heads to the counter, without saying a word. I am confused. I start to panic. 

 He comes back with a coffee, sits down and looks at me.

 “You are a ******* nightmare”

 My heart sinks. He goes on to describe a situation that occurred in the office on Friday when I wasn’t there. A situation which caused a lot of unnecessary work, as I quickly realise that the issue was a technical one, and no fault of mine. One which could have been resolved in seconds had somebody picked up the phone and asked me a simple question. But I didn’t say a word because I knew that if I did, my voice would be weak and I might cry. 

 This may seem like an overreaction but there are two things to consider here. Firstly, this  was one of a series of such incidents which were causing me huge anxiety. In a rational state I would have been able to look at the whole situation and determine that the issue lay firmly with the management and culture. Secondly, I have ADHD – though I didn’t know it at this point. 

Now that I understand the condition, I understand a lot more about my reactions in these situations. Contrary to belief, ADHDers can be perfectionists in many situations and criticism sparks a strong rejection reaction. In women, the hyperactivity aspect often manifests as hyperactivity of emotion and thought, rather than physical. Situations like this send us into shutdown. And the more frequently they occur, the more likely we are to sink into depression and experience crippling anxiety.

 In the BIMA Diversion & Inclusion in Tech 2019 Report, their research shows that Incidences of anxiety and depression appear much higher in the neurodivergent (84%) compared to the neurotypical (49%) They also assert that the average number of employees who are neurodivergent could be as high as 20% in the tech industry (this figure may well be much higher, as this only includes those diagnosed with a condition). Bearing in mind that anxiety and depression are proven to cause increased absenteeism and presenteeism, low productivity, missed deadlines and higher rates of attrition, these stats are not to be ignored. Sadly, there is also evidence of a greater risk of suicide with some neurodivergent conditions. 

 On a more positive note, research has shown that increasing understanding of neurodivergent conditions in management and colleagues, as well as providing reasonable adjustments and support, can ensure that the unique talents of neurodivergent individuals are maximised to provide increased productivity and innovation in organisations. 

Can your organisation afford to either take this risk or miss this opportunity..?

 Now, you may be thinking that in my story, the management cannot strictly be blamed for my mental state, given that even I didn’t know I had ADHD at that point. But organisations have a moral obligation to train managers to look out for signs of stress, and try to understand the source before providing the relevant support. 

We all have a responsibility to notice when others are not waving, but drowning.

Given the figures we have just seen regarding neurodivergent individuals, to truly support wellbeing at work, organisations MUST ensure that neurodiversity is a key part of all wellbeing and inclusion programmes. The risks of ignoring it is commercially and morally irresponsible.

I am pleased to say that I ended up leaving this organisation shortly afterwards, but sorry to say it was on mental health grounds. I had never had, and, thankfully have never since had, this experience in work. 

 

But for any individual, once is one time too many.