Is Neurodiversity a Disability? Here’s What Changed My Thinking

Ever felt flustered in a job interview?

Ever had someone look at you like you’ve just malfunctioned - and they’re not sure where the off switch is? That’s what it can feel like trying to be succinct about what's in my head. Half-strategy, half-spaghetti. It made perfect sense to me. Just not always to everyone else. I'm not thinking of nothing, I am thinking of EVERYTHING.

I was diagnosed with ADHD and Autism recently. And no, it didn’t flip a switch. It tuned a frequency. Helped me start spotting patterns. Building better workarounds. Asking for the kind of support that helps me work smarter, every day.

It’s been a year of big challenges - going back to university, working on AI consulting projects, writing, presenting, and applying for jobs, navigating the welfare system. And with that came a type of support I’d never used before: Disabled Students’ Allowance (DSA).

I’ll admit, I paused at the word “disabled”. Still do. But here’s the truth: the support has been game changing. It gave me access to:

• Weekly mentoring that helps me focus, prioritise, reflect

• Study skills coaching that helps structure complex ideas in a way that makes sense to me

• Tools like Genio, Zotero and a plethora of AI subscriptions - and training on how to make them work for my brain

These didn’t just make studying easier - they helped me work smarter. Write better. Think more clearly. And they reminded me that support isn’t about fixing me. It’s about reducing the friction.

People showed up when I least expected it.

Before I knew what “neurodiverse” even meant. Before I had the words to ask for help. The universe put people in my path, a manager, a mentor, a boss or just a friend. They helped me when I didn't know I needed help.

They didn’t fix the chaos in my brain - or the chaos of large tech stacks, scattered data, legacy platforms and half-mapped web infrastructure. But they nodded me in the right direction. And that was enough.

With the right nudges, I learned how to take all that complexity - internal and external - and turn it into stories. Language that landed. Analogies that made sense of the mess. I presented those stories to CEOs and VPs. They got it. They backed it. And things moved.

Because once I had a way to channel how I think, the thinking stopped getting stuck.

Interviews

When you’re trying to recall project examples, stay engaged, make eye contact and follow the 5 S's framework sent to you 24 hours before - all while your brain’s rifling through the entire internet - it’s not nerves. It’s bandwidth.

Then AI entered my life. I feed in messy notes. Interview transcripts. Past CVs. It gives me:

• Bullet points I can remember under pressure

• Stories that sound like me

• Language that lands - and sticks

It’s not a shortcut. It’s how I give myself the best shot at being understood. I already know what I want to say. The prompt just helps me line it up.

And here’s what’s important: I’m not gaming the system. The system is finally catching up. DSA doesn’t pay my bills. It doesn’t write my essays. It gives me a chance to keep up with a world that is taking a while to catch up with how I was born to think.

This year I wrote over 30,000 words for my degree - every one of them counted. They were purposeful, aligned, and, crucially, they made sense to me and the reader. My grades went up by 20%. That’s not a workaround. That’s progress.

 We talk a lot about diversity in hiring. “Bring your whole self to work.” But when it comes to neurodiversity, there seems to be a blind spot. Companies want the ideas, the creativity, the insight - but they’re not always ready for the wiring behind it.

It’s widely accepted that neurodiversity thrives in development or technical roles. But in strategy? In marketing? There’s still a box waiting to be built. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve rewritten a sentence 12 times - not because I couldn’t find the words, but because I was trying to match an expectation no one explained. Until I started building my own frameworks, my own rhythm, and giving myself permission to ask: what helps me think clearly? What do I want to say?

For me, that looks like:

• A mentor who helps me re-centre

• Technology that shares my mental load, not adds to it

• Mindfulness to keep the system running smoothly

Sometimes I need to turn the brain off and on again. Like all the best systems.

So, is neurodiversity a disability?

Sometimes, yes. Especially in environments that weren’t built with us in mind. But when you do build those systems - when organisations invest in diversity of thought, rather than dismissing it - we stop burning energy trying to mask or translate. And start putting that energy into the delivering outstanding work.

And let’s not forget what’s at stake. When we talk about cutting support like this - whether in education or employment - we need to ask: do we really understand what we’re taking away?

Because what support gives me isn’t advantage. It’s access. Thanks for listening to my podcast.