Spicy-Brained Leadership: ADHD Diagnosis 18 Months On – What I Know Now, I Wish I Knew Then
This blog has sat unfinished for months. Not because I didn’t have something to say—but because I had too much to say. Too many emotions, too many layers. And if I’m honest, some of those layers have been hard to face.
I’ve shared versions of this with fellow ADHD-ers, and each time it takes on a new level, a new dimension. Neurotypical people have gently suggested I break it down into bite-sized articles—but my brain doesn’t want to do that. So here it is. All of it. In one go. Spicy and sprawling, just like me.
I’ve poured so much of myself into my work over the years—often unconsciously using it to manage my ADHD symptoms, mask my dyslexia, and distract myself from a growing list of unresolved trauma responses. But coaching, nature—and finally, diagnosis—have helped me start putting an end to that old, self-destructive way of being.
This isn’t a neat story with a perfect ending. It’s messy, emotional, raw—and in many ways, still unfolding. But it’s mine. And I’m sharing it because I know there are others out there like me: leaders with spicy brains who’ve spent years feeling “too much” and “not enough” all at once.
Let me be clear: I’m not blaming ADHD for all my past leadership flaws. But now that I understand my brain, I can make better sense of some of those patterns—and more importantly, I can stop repeating them and I can help others to do the same.
Maybe this will help one of you make sense of your own journey a little sooner than I did.
Life Before Diagnosis: Leading from My Survival Self
I didn’t know I had ADHD. I just thought I had to work harder than everyone else. I thought leadership meant being sharp, fast, driven—and exhausted. I thought that if I couldn’t keep up with the chaos I created, I wasn’t trying hard enough.
If I’m honest, I was often a bit of a dick—constantly pushing harder, trying to be better, and getting frustrated when people couldn’t keep up or didn’t understand what I wanted.
Looking back, I was leading from what I now understand as my ‘survival self’—a psyche shaped by trauma, undiagnosed ADHD, and a lifetime of feeling unsafe, unseen, and not good enough. [Ruppert, 2012; Smith, 2019]
I built a career on rapport and charm—chameleon-ing my way through life, wearing different personalities in every room, trying to fit in to making sure people liked me. I didn’t realise how much it was costing me. With my constant fear of rejection, I never actually felt safe enough to be fully myself. I was never truly accepted—because I never gave anyone the chance to see the real me. And so the cycle continued.
Burnout became normal. Anxiety was my baseline. And my inner voice constantly told me I was a fraud.
But underneath it all, I was exhausted. And eventually, my body started screaming at me—throwing out stress-related illness after illness. I didn’t listen. I just pushed harder. Disconnected even further from myself. [van der Kolk, 2014]
This story is only too common for those with ADHD. Add in some trauma and you really do have a melting pot for self-destruction. I honestly didn’t ever think there could be another way. I was so resigned to believing that’s just how it was — that this was the price I had to pay to keep up — that I almost still can’t believe I’m sitting here now, writing this from my healthy, happy self.
Diagnosis and the Grief That Followed
When I finally got my ADHD diagnosis, I didn’t feel relief—I felt heartbreak. Grief. Rage.
I was angry that I’d spent so many years feeling like I was failing. I mourned the joy I’d lost to self-doubt and the inability I had to see just how successful I was. I was furious that no one had spotted it sooner. That no one asked different questions — that nobody had seen me breaking and offered a hand of support. I felt used, abused, and more unseen than ever.
I grieved the years I spent thinking anxiety and self-loathing were just part of being a high achiever — only to find they started to ease with a small daily pill and a whole new understanding of how my brain actually works.
I appreciate that medication is not for everyone, and that’s a conversation to have with a healthcare professional — but for me, it’s been life-changing. I’m forever grateful to Dr Rank at Flint Healthcare for both my diagnosis and the support in finding the right medication. His support and kindness were, honestly, the first time I ever felt like someone truly understood me.
If you’re reading this and thinking about seeking a diagnosis — if you can, find your Dr Rank. NHS waiting lists are painfully long, and I did have to go private. I know I’m in a position of privilege to have done that, and I don’t say that lightly. But for me, it was worth every penny.
I realised I’d built an entire professional persona around survival — charming, fast-talking, high-achieving — and underneath it was a scared, brilliant woman who just needed to feel safe in her own head.
How It Showed Up in My Leadership
Once I moved through the initial grief and rage, I began reflecting on how ADHD had shaped not just my life, but my leadership.
If I was going to take back control and finally get to know the real me, I had to understand why I was the way I was. I had to forgive myself for some of the stuff I’m not proud of. And I had to build awareness, so I could move forward differently.
A few years ago, I genuinely had no clue who I was. I didn’t even know if I liked tea or coffee. My masking had reached a point where I wasn’t just masking — I was wearing full-on costumes. Creating the space to work out what I actually did and didn’t enjoy was hard… but my god, it was worth it.
We often feel like we should be able to answer questions like “Who am I?” or “What kind of leader am I?” But I can tell you from experience — those are some of the hardest questions to answer. Especially when you’ve spent most of your life trying to be whoever the room needs you to be.
Back in corporate life, I thought I was just a high-energy, ideas-driven person with a low tolerance for nonsense and a tendency to crash hard after big pushes. I thought I was just… well, I’m not sure what I thought I was.
Looking back now, it’s so clear:
Impulsive decisions (hello, forest retreat idea out of nowhere — builders booked before I’d even written a business plan)
Sky-high bullshit radar — I could sniff a white lie at 20 paces and spiral from even the smallest breach of trust
Struggling to regulate my mood or care for myself — resulting in anxiety, burnout, and a stress-induced autoimmune condition [van der Kolk, 2014]
Constantly moving the goalposts — never stopping to celebrate wins, always feeling like I was failing (even when I was smashing it)
A desk (and home) that looked like a hurricane had passed through – I used to get mocked for having food in my keyboard!
Hyperfocus bursts that made me unstoppable… until I hit a wall
Assuming everyone else just needed to “speed up,” when half the time I didn’t even know what we were speeding towards
My inner voice was relentless: “You are a fraud. Work harder. Push more. Don’t be lazy.”
I thought I was being driven. But really, I was running scared — terrified of what happened, and how it felt, when I stood still. I was constantly on the brink of falling apart.
I genuinely believed I wasn’t as smart as other people, so I worked four times as hard just to keep up. The truth? I am smart. But I was so chronically exhausted, my brain couldn’t function properly.
Recognising Strengths (and Breaking the Cycle of 'Not Enough')
So many of us grow up with messages that we’re “too much,” “not enough,” or just not wired right. By age 12, a child with ADHD has heard an estimated 20,000 more negative comments than their neurotypical peers. [Barkley, 2008]
We absorb those messages and try to outrun them. We become perfectionists, overachievers, people-pleasers—trying to prove we’re worthy. [Whittington, 2020]
And here’s the thing: toxic workplaces LOVE that energy. They thrive on our over-functioning. They reward the ‘yes’ people. They keep us stuck in cycles of overwork and self-abandonment, all under the banner of being “a team player – or achieving a goal”
If you’re neurospicy and you’ve experienced trauma or negative programming, chances are you’ve been trying to prove your worth for years. And chances are, you’ve stayed in more than one toxic job far too long.
Recognising our strengths isn’t soft. It’s essential. It’s how we break the cycle. It’s how we start leading in a way that’s rooted in self-worth—not survival. [van Nieuwerburgh & Biswas-Diener, 2021]
The Apology I Needed to Make
To anyone who worked with me during those years—thank you. And I’m sorry.
I know I could be intense, unpredictable, even exhausting at times. You weren’t lazy. I wasn’t a tyrant. We were just dancing to different rhythms—and I didn’t know how to find a shared tempo.
That’s why I do the work I do now — coaching from a place of compassion, curiosity, and regulation.
I genuinely want to help my fellow spicy leaders enjoy their brilliance and build incredible, supportive teams around them. I also want to help neurotypicals understand how to create inclusive environments where everyone can thrive.
We need all kinds of brilliant brains to make companies work — and when we can all work together, that’s when the magic really happens.
What Life Looks Like Now
Now, I build my days around regulation—not productivity. I walk, I rest, I get outside. And here’s the kicker: I get more done in three well-paced days than I ever did in five frantic 12-hour ones.
I’ve gone from being constantly ‘on’ to being genuinely present. I still have a spicy brain and wild ideas—but I’ve got tools that help me stay grounded, and I teach my clients to do the same.
No, I haven’t got it all figured out. But I’m finally leading from my healthy self. And that changes everything.
I appreciate that not everyone will want or need to change their life to the extent I did — but I can guarantee there’s a more fulfilling, joyful version of the status quo waiting for you. A version where you achieve more with ease, and live your life wholeheartedly.
Tools That Keep Me Sane (Most Days Anyway)
Working with my brain—not against it—has been a total game-changer. Here’s what helps:
Most importantly, when collaborating with others, I let them know what to expect when working with me — and I give them permission to push back.
I take time to set up boundaries and guidelines in relationships that are important to me, personally and professionally.
The 24-hour rule – I pause before acting on new ideas (sometimes when working alone always when working with others). What’s exciting today might be chaos tomorrow. I don’t ban myself from trying new things (my brain loves them), I just make sure I hit pause and tell myself: if it’s still a good idea tomorrow, I can go for it. (This works for buying stuff too!)
Celebrate the wins – Success amnesia is real, so I deliberately reflect on progress — that’s honestly why some people might think I post a lot on LinkedIn. It’s for me as much as it is for you. [van Nieuwerburgh & Biswas-Diener, 2021]
Clarify urgency – Just because I feel urgency doesn’t mean it’s shared urgency. I often have to lean on others to remind me of this and help me slow the pace.
Sense-check goals – I now check in with others and with data before setting the pace or expectations — especially when I’m working with neurotypical teams.
Communication strategies – I’ve made peace with the fact that communication takes extra care for me. I’ve built strategies for handling RSD, forgiven myself for oversharing, and tried to help those close to me understand my intent — even when it gets messy. I don’t always get it right, but I will die trying.
Supporting Other Spicy-Brained Leaders
At Thorp Coaching, I work with neurodivergent leaders who want to:
Stop over-functioning to prove their worth
Build confidence without masking
Lead from strengths, not survival strategies
Work in ways that honour their nervous system—not punish it
Because ADHD isn’t a flaw—it’s a fire. And when you learn to manage the heat, it can power brilliance, empathy and innovation.
Let’s Keep the Conversation Going
If you’re a spicy-brained leader, I’d love to hear your story. What’s changed since you started understanding your neurodivergence? What’s helped? What’s still hard?
Are you a neurotypical working with a spicy-brained team or leader? What’s your experience?
Drop me a message, comment below, or share anonymously — whatever works for you.
Because when we share our stories, we dismantle shame. And when we lead from our healthy selves, we don’t just change our workplaces — we change the world.
Finally — if this has resonated with you and you feel comfortable doing so, please comment or share. It will help this reach others who might really need to hear it.
And always know — my door is open. If I can help in any way, whether as a coach or just as a fellow spicy-brained human, reach out.
References (supporting content):
· Barkley, R.A. (2008). ADHD in Adults: What the Science Says. Guilford Press. → Supporting the statistic: “By age 12, a child with ADHD has heard an estimated 20,000 more negative comments than their neurotypical peers.”
· Joyce, P. (2020). Reflective Practice in Coaching. Open University Press. → On the power of reflection and moving away from unhelpful rumination through strengths-based reflective practice.
· Ruppert, F. (2012). Trauma, Fear and Love: Discovering the Impact of Overwhelming Experiences on Body, Mind and Soul. → The foundation for the ‘survival self’ model referred to in your blog.
· Smith, J. (2019). Coaching and Trauma: From Surviving to Thriving. Open University Press. → On how trauma shapes behaviours in leaders and teams and how it can show up in the workplace.
· van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Mind, Brain and Body in the Transformation of Trauma. Penguin. → Referenced in connection to dysregulation and how trauma and stress affect the nervous system.
· van Nieuwerburgh, C. & Biswas-Diener, R. (2021). Positive Psychology Coaching in Practice. Routledge. → Supporting the importance of strengths-based approaches in coaching and leadership development.
· Whittington, J. (2020). Systemic Coaching and Constellations. Kogan Page. → On the patterns of perfectionism, over-doing, and survival strategies in leaders shaped by systemic influences.
