Chapter 7
Work
The question of work—or making a living—is at the heart of so many struggles for neurodivergent folks. We think differently and process differently, so we work differently. It's a challenge to time our abilities with a clock when overwhelm or underwhelm, boredom or overexcitement are rotating realities. For myself, I get creative whims early in the morning and sometimes late in the evening, but I also need to get my family ready for school in the mornings and arrive at meetings when expected—all of which confuses my sensitive self. But at the same time, without that sense of being plugged in to the world, we are also at risk of isolating ourselves and becoming lonely. It's a challenge to strike a balance, and many of us become therapists, writers, and entrepreneurs to help alleviate some of that struggle.
The subject of work is a tender one for me. In my midtwenties, I was fired from one of my first journalism jobs. The pace was so intense and demanding, I wasn't the only one to leave, but it still hurt. Then I became a freelance journalist, which worked quite well for me, since I had the flexibility and freedom to pursue different topics. But when I attempted to move up the ladder in my early thirties and landed a job as a senior editor—albeit at a very dysfunctional early startup—things came crashing down. My sense of overwhelm and brain fog was like nothing I had ever experienced, and I was again fired after just six months. A year later I took a low-paying job in a more arts-oriented organization—thinking that was where I would find "my people"—but instead I was burdened with administrative tasks. Again, I was fired after a month. The hardest part throughout the trials of these various jobs was the overwhelming sense of loss, confusion, loneliness, and uselessness I felt. I had zero vocabulary about neurodiversity—and no one else around me had that vocabulary either. I felt judged, criticized, and undervalued by my coworkers and by society as a whole.
When I reached a state of delirious confusion and loneliness about what the hell was going on with me, I finally started opening up to others. Starting with my immediate family, I told them about the news reports of women—who sounded like me—who had sensory processing differences. Compelled by what I was reading, I created a Facebook event page inviting people to get together and talk about neurodiversity. I held the first Neurodiversity Project gathering in a small Berkeley studio filled with people craving honest discussion about how our minds seemed to work differently. Leaders from corporations and academia opened up alongside artists, singers, and activists. A buzz grew within me that I hadn't felt in years, and it grew stronger with each gathering—and that was it: finally, at last, my neurodivergent working style as a writer and entrepreneur was flowing with something that people wanted and needed and where I could run a thriving venture.
Opening Up the Conversation
In my 2017 feature article in Fast Company "What Neurodiversity Is and Why Companies Should Embrace It," I put forth suggestions for how to make the workplace more neurodiversity-friendly. That article led to dozens of inquiries, tweets, and emails, especially from women. At around the same time, Harvard Business Review, Forbes, and other publications were starting to catch on to the dire need of addressing these topics. At the center of my article was a woman named Margaux Joffe, head of production for Yahoo's Global Marketing Department at the time, who also launched the company's first neurodiversity Employee Resource Group. Joffe has ADHD and previously founded the Kaleidoscope Society, a platform for women with ADHD to share and celebrate their successes in life—think artists, scientists, human resources folks, designers, and a whole range of career positions.
"My advice to neurodivergent employees is to learn as much as you can about how your mind works in order to design your daily life accordingly and be able to effectively communicate what you need at work and at home," Joffe tells me. "I lived with undiagnosed ADHD for twenty-nine years, so the diagnosis alone has helped me tremendously in my career. Simply understanding how my mind works differently, I've been able to let go of how I thought I should do things and accept myself for who I am."
Joffe explains that what often stands in companies' way is a lack of knowledge for how to approach subjects such as neurodivergence. The growing "neurodiversity movement," focusing on diversity of mind, just as activists in the 1960s and 1970s fought for racial equality and gay rights, is spurring an increasing awareness that is likely to put much more pressure on workplaces to understand neurodiversity, adhere to policies, and respect neurodivergent folks—especially women and people of color, Joffe points out, "who already feel like they have to work harder to overcome unconscious bias."
It took Joffe a year to "come out" to her boss about having ADHD, because, she says, "I wanted to be able to prove myself free of any additional bias." But once she did, and told him she wanted to launch an Employee Resource Group for neurodiversity, "he supported it 100 percent." She continues, "Many times, the only thing holding us back is thinking we need to work like others. Build on your strengths and be fearless. This goes for everyone."
For myself, as a sensitive neurodivergent woman, my primary concerns relate to social norms around extreme extroversion, expectations of high-speed productivity, overstimulation, and overemphasis on factory-style executive functioning. My ideal setting is a quiet, natural light–filled place surrounded by greenery, with easy access to colleagues when needed. I value mentorship and learn well one-on-one. Being myself often looks like lightning bolts of inspiration, needing to pause a conversation to write down an idea, emailing or calling someone spontaneously, or needing to take a quick rest when I'm overstimulated or work from home when I have a headache. Susan Cain has made some of this language much more accessible and acceptable through her Quiet Revolution website and Quiet Workplaces and Quiet Schools programs. Walmart's most productive distribution center is staffed almost entirely by neurodivergent employees. SAP has an entire Autism at Work program, and Microsoft now holds annual Autism at Work events. Things are starting to shift, but more is needed.
Work and Temperament Rights
Our internal makeups matter. A lot. How I spend my days thinking, reflecting, and responding to the world correlates to my mental health, the mental health of my family, and the overall health of my workplace. Each of us creates our own reality, largely dictated by our internal perceptions and how those perceptions are shaped by people in power. As Elaine Aron frequently likes to bring up, if we as sensitive people are raised in supportive environments, our unique gifts are often fostered and allowed to thrive; but if we grow up in negative environments, we often develop depression and anxiety. And so the interplay between inner and outer is significant and largely holds the key to the overall health and well-being of us as individuals and of our wider communities.
The idea of "temperament rights" brings into the equation a consideration of our inner constitutions in every sphere of life—work, family, school, education, sports, religion, and more. The unique individual makeup of each person deserves its own articulation, respect, and corresponding accommodation. Note that this is not the same as every person getting exactly what they want all the time. But it does mean, for example, that when a person starts a new job, it is carefully noted in their personnel file whether they identify as neurodivergent, and if so, which neurodivergence, as well as their workplace preferences and needs. That person's particular sensitivities need to be acknowledged. They will then know that their internal reality is acknowledged at work and they can thus resort to the language of temperament rights and neurodiversity to sort out any issues as they arise, as well as advocate for themselves.
When I got back in touch with Joffe a few months after our initial interview, Yahoo was in the midst of its merger with AOL after both companies had been acquired by Verizon. It was a tough time—and in many ways traumatic. People were being laid off, and change was everywhere—from management structure to the redesign of office space. It was a significant time to talk about neurodiversity at the company, as unexpected shifts often allow for new ways of leading and operating, and Joffe's team advocates for neurodivergent employees in a number of ways. "We've been bubbling up some questions and concerns to leadership—everything from office moves and layouts to accommodations," she told me. Her team was making recommendations to the team in charge of real estate and workplace, such as designating quiet spaces, working with individuals who need accommodations, and making noise-canceling headphones available.
"I feel like we're just beginning to see the start of a new wave of how mental health and neurodiversity are going to be looked at in the workplace," Joffe says, "because traditionally the workplace hasn't always been best-suited for anyone who doesn't fit the mold, so to speak, but I do think things are beginning to change. Once we launched the ERG [Employee Resource Group] it opened up a Pandora's box and people came out of the woodwork, sharing their stories. It was definitely the case that people were dealing with things on their own and keeping to themselves." Launching the neurodiversity ERG was a big, brave, and vulnerable move for Joffe. It took courage to put herself out there, and ultimately that courage led to her being on stage in front of eighty-five hundred people to share her story.
Indeed, sharing stories is often the first step for helping changes take hold in a workplace. After Joffe formed her ERG and started speaking openly about the gifts and challenges of her neurodivergence, dozens of others started speaking up as well. "In our department alone, through launching this group," she says, "I found out a few of my colleagues are also neurodivergent—and I would have never guessed! I would've never known what they were going through. It's been so powerful because people from senior leadership are also coming forward as having ADHD. I don't know if there are any other companies out there specifically with neurodiversity ERGs. I know there are autism working groups, but I'm not sure about neurodiversity more broadly. I've seen disability and health and wellness, but not neurodiversity. It's an open frontier—a lot to learn and a lot to do."
Embracing neurodiversity at work also allows for a narrative shift to happen, because colleagues find themselves surprised by the mismatch between what they think a neurodivergence might look like and how it actually shows up in a person. It is essential that all workplaces—companies, organizations, nonprofits, government offices—open up this "Pandora's box" so that the buried treasures and gifts that neurodivergent folks possess can emerge and help entire teams. Senior executives, managers, bosses, board members, and others have a significant role to play in creating work cultures and spaces that allow for the language of neurodiversity. This can have a profound ripple effect throughout companies and society at large. The opportunity to transform social norms is real—and tangible.
Adobe: A Lesson in Sensory Design
Silka Miesnieks is another bright star in the neurodivergent underworld of tech and design in Silicon Valley. I saw her speak at a design conference in the Japanese innovation space Digital Garage in San Francisco. The conference was about artificial intelligence and the intersection with design, empathy, emotions, and human impact—and to my delighted shock, some of the first words she delivered were about her being dyslexic and about the senses of proprioception and interoception as they relate to design.