05/08/2026
I’ve been reflecting on some of the recent headlines around ADHD and autism. 🧠📰🗞️
I’m sure many can identify with certain traits of autism and adhd. We all lose focus, feel overwhelmed, seek routine, struggle with change, or become emotionally dysregulated at times. Human beings are wonderfully diverse, and no two brains are exactly the same.
But living with a neurodevelopmental condition isn’t about recognising ‘traits’. It’s about the cumulative impact those differences have on everyday life—for the individual and for the people who love and support them.
As both a parent and a professional, I see that impact every day.
The exhaustion isn’t usually caused by one big event. It’s the relentlessness of needing to think about every transition, every demand, every sensory experience, every expectation, every change of plan, every emotional response, every routine—and how all of those interact with one another.
There can be a constant balancing act between needing routine and craving novelty, wanting autonomy but needing support, seeking sensory input one moment and becoming overwhelmed by it the next, desperately wanting to do something while feeling completely unable to begin.
For me, one of the greatest challenges has been demand avoidance.
Living with demand avoidance often means that nothing is straightforward. What appears to be a simple journey from A to B can become A to Y, then Z, before eventually reaching B—if you get there at all. Every request, every transition, every expectation can be experienced as pressure, even when it’s something the person genuinely wants to do.
As a parent, that can be incredibly isolating and exhausting. You find yourself constantly adapting, reducing pressure, changing your language, regulating your own emotions, abandoning the script, and finding another route. Again. And again. And again.
This isn’t about saying one person’s experience is harder than another’s. Nor is it about creating division. It’s about recognising that there is a significant difference between occasionally relating to a trait and living with a nervous system that experiences the world differently every single day.
And perhaps this is the question I’d like us all to reflect on.
If we accept that human brains are wonderfully varied, and that many people experience the world differently, then why are so many of our systems still built around one narrow expectation of how people should think, learn, communicate and behave?
Why are schools still largely designed around one way of learning?
Why are workplaces often built around one way of thinking?
Why are transitions expected to be effortless, eye contact expected to show respect, sitting still expected to mean listening, and doing something simply because you’ve been asked expected to be easy?
For many people, those expectations fit comfortably. For others, they require an enormous amount of effort, masking and emotional energy just to get through the day.
Perhaps the conversation shouldn’t be about whether ADHD or autism are “real”, or whether everyone has traits. Perhaps it should be about how we create environments where different ways of thinking are understood rather than judged.
Whether someone has a diagnosis or not, we all benefit from a little more curiosity, a little less judgement, and systems that recognise people are not all wired in the same way.
As a society, we often ask neurodivergent people to adapt to the world around them. Perhaps it’s time we also asked how the world could adapt to them.
Because when we design schools, workplaces and communities that are flexible, compassionate and inclusive, we don’t just support neurodivergent people—we create environments where everyone has a better chance to thrive.
Understanding doesn’t begin with assuming everyone experiences the world in the same way. It begins with listening when someone tells us that they don’t.
