%20(1)_edited.png)
What neurotypical means -
A neurotypical person is someone whose brain develops and works in the ways society expects as standard. Schools, workplaces and social norms are largely built around how their brain works, so the world tends to fit them without much effort on their part.
A small language note: neurodiversity describes everyone, because all brains differ. An individual whose brain works differently from the norm is neurodivergent. So Jess is part of neurodiversity, but she isn’t neurodivergent.
Can neurotypical people have neurodivergent traits?
Yes. ADHD and autistic traits sit on a spectrum across the whole population. Most people sometimes lose focus, procrastinate, dislike loud places or need routine. What makes something ADHD or autism is that the traits are:
-
persistent, present since childhood rather than just when tired or stressed
-
pervasive, showing up across work, home and relationships
-
impairing, causing real and ongoing difficulty, not just occasional inconvenience.
-
.This is why saying 'everyone’s a bit ADHD' misses the point.
Having a trait is not the same as living with a condition.
Jess' Story
Jess, 32 · Marketing coordinator · Neurotypical
Jess grew up in regional Victoria, the middle of three girls. School came easily to her: she was organised, liked by teachers and always had a group of friends. She picked up the unwritten rules of the playground, and later the office, without ever having to think about them. She moved to the city for university, studied communications, and has worked in marketing ever since.
She’s warm, quick, and the first to organise Friday drinks. People like her, and she likes being liked.
Jess does have some traits that could look neurodivergent
-
she loses focus in long meetings
-
she leaves her tax return until the last minute every year
-
she hates scratchy clothing labels
-
she can’t concentrate when she’s had a bad night’s sleep
But these come and go with stress and tiredness. They’ve never cost her a job, a friendship or her sense of herself. When Sam says to people 'I’m so ADHD', she’s describing a bad day, not a life.
That’s the gap she doesn’t see yet. When Sam can’t start an email, Jess assumes it’s the same as her own procrastination, and that a list will fix it. When Daniel leaves the team lunch early, she worries he doesn’t like her. She isn’t unkind. She just hasn’t needed to understand brains that work differently from hers.
Her turning point: After a neurodiversity training session at work, Jess realises her jokes may have landed badly. She quietly asks Sam what actually helps.
Sam says, 'Honestly? Just checking in before deadlines, without making a thing of it.' Jess does. It’s a small change, and it makes a real difference to Sam.
What Jess shows readers: neurotypical people can make a big difference just by listening, asking 'what would help?' and not assuming everyone’s brain works like theirs.
What Autism Level 1 means
Autism is a lifelong difference in how a person communicates, relates to others, and experiences the world, including senses, routine and interests. It’s present from early childhood, even if no one notices until much later.
The DSM-5 (and the current DSM-5-TR) describes three support levels:
-
Level 1: requiring support
-
Level 2: requiring substantial support
-
Level 3: requiring very substantial support
For Level 1, that usually means:
-
Social communication: the person can talk fluently and hold a job, but social interaction takes deliberate effort. They may find small talk, unwritten rules, or reading tone and facial expressions hard, and others may see them as blunt, reserved or a bit different.
-
Flexibility: routines, predictability and clear plans matter a great deal. Unexpected change, switching between tasks, or vague instructions can be very hard.
-
Senses: many are highly sensitive to noise, light, crowds or textures, which can be exhausting in ordinary places like open-plan offices.
A common misunderstanding
Level 1 is often called mild autism or high-functioning. Many autistic people dislike those terms, because they hide how much effort goes on behind the scenes. Someone at Level 1 may look like they’re coping well at work, then need hours alone to recover afterwards. The levels describe how much support someone needs, and that can change with stress, environment and life stage.
The old term Asperger’s was folded into autism spectrum disorder in 2013, and many people now diagnosed at Level 1 would once have received that label.
Daniel's Story
Daniel, 45 · Operations manager · Autism Level 1
Daniel grew up in a quiet household in suburban Melbourne. As a boy he was the smart one: he loved trains, maps and taking things apart to see how they worked. Teachers called him bright but 'in his own world'. He had one or two close friends and found the playground loud and confusing, so he spent lunchtimes in the library.
He discovered early that rules and systems made the world feel safe. If he knew exactly what was expected, he could do it brilliantly. That became his career. He studied engineering, moved into logistics, and is now a respected operations manager known for being fair, honest and completely reliable.
What people don’t see is the cost. Daniel plans conversations in his head before meetings. He works out when to smile and nod. He eats lunch in his car to get twenty minutes of quiet. After a day in the open-plan office, he comes home and needs an hour in a dark room before he can talk to his family. For most of his life, he thought everyone felt this way and was just better at hiding it.
Diagnosis: At 38, Daniel sat in on his son’s autism assessment. As the psychologist described the traits, he recognised his own childhood in every answer. His own diagnosis followed a few months later. It brought relief, and some grief for the years he spent thinking he was simply 'wrong' at being social.
His blind spot: Structure saved Daniel, so he assumes it will save everyone. When Mel struggles with deadlines, he tells her to 'apply herself' and offers her a new spreadsheet. He means it as encouragement. He doesn’t yet see that Mel’s brain works differently from his, and that what she needs is flexibility, not more rules.
His turning point: In coaching, Daniel learns to plan his energy around social demands. He books recovery time after big meetings, and asks for agendas without apologising. He also realises that fairness doesn’t mean treating everyone the same. He starts asking his team, 'What would make this easier for you?' Mel’s answer surprises him and changes how he manages.
What Daniel shows readers: autistic people can be successful, warm leaders. Being successful doesn’t mean it’s easy, and understanding your own brain is the first step to understanding someone else’s.
What ADHD is -
ADHD (Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder) is a lifelong neurodevelopmental difference in how the brain manages attention, activity, impulses and emotions. It’s linked to differences in brain networks involving dopamine, the chemical that drives motivation and reward. That’s why an ADHD brain can focus intensely on something interesting or urgent, yet struggle to start something boring, however important it is.
The name is misleading. ADHD isn’t a lack of attention. It’s difficulty directing attention where it’s needed, when it’s needed.
The three presentations (DSM-5)
-
Predominantly inattentive: losing track of details, forgetting, losing things, drifting off, struggling to organise and finish tasks. This is often missed, especially in girls and women, because it’s quiet.
-
Predominantly hyperactive-impulsive: restlessness, fidgeting, talking a lot, interrupting, acting before thinking. In adults, the hyperactivity often becomes inner restlessness, a mind that won’t switch off.
-
Combined: a mix of both. This is the most common presentation in adults.
To be diagnosed, symptoms must have started before age 12, show up in more than one area of life (such as work and home), and cause real, ongoing difficulty.
What adults with ADHD often also experience
These aren’t formal diagnostic criteria, but they’re very common:
-
Time blindness: time feels like either 'now' or 'not now'.
-
Task paralysis: knowing exactly what to do, but being unable to start.
-
Emotional intensity: feelings arrive fast and strong, including rejection sensitivity (RSD).
-
Shame: years of hearing lazy, careless or you’re so smart, why can’t you…
Sam's Story
Sam, 44 · Project officer · ADHD (combined presentation)
Sam grew up in Geelong, the eldest of four. Her school reports said the same thing every year:
'Bright and creative, but needs to focus and try harder.'
She daydreamed through maths, lost her jumper every week, and talked so much in class she was often sent out. She also wrote stories, organised the school play, and could make anyone laugh. She started three university degrees and finished one. In her twenties, she found her place in event management, where the deadlines were urgent, every day was different, and her energy was an asset.
She was brilliant in a crisis: when the caterer didn’t turn up or the sound system failed, Sam was calm, quick and creative. Then she was promoted to a desk-based project role. Long reports. Emails that needed careful wording. Spreadsheets with no deadline until suddenly there was one. The things that were easy for others became mountains.
She would open the same email nine times without being able to start it, then stay up until 2 am finishing work at the last minute, in a panic. People called her 'capable but disorganised'. She called herself worse things privately.
Diagnosis: At 41, after a year close to burnout, Sam heard an ADHD podcast in the car and pulled over in tears, because it described her entire life. Her GP referred her to a psychiatrist, and the diagnosis came three months later. She felt relief and anger that no one had noticed sooner. Her challenges now:
getting started on tasks without urgency
time blindness and underestimating how long things take
working memory (holding information in mind while doing something else)
the shame of decades of being misunderstood
What helps: In coaching, Sam learns strategies that work with her brain, not against it:
body doubling: working alongside someone, in person or online
breaking tasks into tiny first steps, like 'open the document' rather than 'write the whole report'
creating artificial urgency, using timers and short deadlines with someone she reports to
visible reminders instead of to-do lists hidden in an app
In counselling, she starts to untangle the shame and recognise that her struggles were never a character flaw.
Her relationships at work: Jess’s 'just write a list' stings, because Sam has four lists, and that isn’t the problem. Over time, Jess learns to simply check in before deadlines, and it helps more than any advice. What Sam shows - ADHD isn’t about forgetting your keys. It’s a lifelong difference in how the brain manages attention and motivation. With understanding and the right supports, the creativity and energy that come with it can shine.
What AuDHD is
AuDHD is an informal word for someone who is both autistic and ADHD. It isn’t a separate diagnosis. It means a person meets the criteria for both.
Until 2013, the diagnostic manual (DSM-IV) didn’t allow both diagnoses at once. If someone was autistic, ADHD traits were put down to autism. The DSM-5 changed that, and research now shows a large overlap: many autistic people also have ADHD, and many people with ADHD have autistic traits.
Why AuDHD can be confusing
The two conditions often pull in opposite directions:
The conditions can also hide each other. ADHD spontaneity can mask autistic social difficulties, and
autistic routines can mask ADHD disorganisation.
That’s one reason AuDHD people are often diagnosed late, or only with one condition at first.
Why late diagnosis is so common in women
-
The research was built on boys. For decades, ADHD and autism criteria were based on how they show up in young boys.
-
Masking. Many girls learn early to copy others, rehearse conversations and hide their struggles to fit in. It works, at a huge cost.
-
Misdiagnosis. Women are often first diagnosed with anxiety, depression or an eating disorder, while the underlying difference goes unrecognised.
-
Perimenopause and menopause. Falling oestrogen affects dopamine, and many women find that strategies which worked for decades suddenly stop working in their 40s and 50s.
Mel's Story
Mel, 53 · Senior policy analyst · AuDHD (late diagnosed)
Mel grew up in Bendigo, a quiet, bookish girl who read under the covers until 2 am and could recite whole encyclopedia entries. Teachers called her 'a gifted child' and 'away with the fairies' in the same report. She had one close friend at a time and found group play confusing, so she studied other girls carefully and copied what they did. By high school, she was so good at it that no one noticed anything different.
She was also messy, late and forgetful. Her room was chaos, her assignments were finished at 3 am, and she lost house keys so often her parents stopped replacing them. Her mother called her 'brilliant but scatterbrained'.
Mel found her place in policy work, where her deep thinking, strong sense of justice and eye for detail made her exceptional. She rose to a senior role, respected for reports that were thorough, fair and sharp. What colleagues didn’t see was how she got there: working through weekends because she couldn’t start until the pressure was unbearable, rehearsing every meeting, and coming home so drained she couldn’t speak.
In her 20s, she was diagnosed with anxiety. In her 30s, with depression. Medication helped a little. Nothing explained why life felt so much harder for her than for everyone else.
Diagnosis: At 49, perimenopause hit, and the strategies that had held Mel together for decades stopped working. She was diagnosed with ADHD, and treatment helped her focus. But she still felt overwhelmed by noise, exhausted by people, and unable to cope with change. Two years later, at 51, she was diagnosed autistic.
For the first time, her whole life made sense. She also felt grief for the girl who tried so hard, for the decades spent believing she was failing at being normal, and for the help that came so late.
Her challenges now:
-
burnout from decades of masking
-
sensory and social overload in a busy open-plan office
-
task paralysis, where she knows exactly what to do but can’t make herself start
-
the push-pull of needing both routine and novelty
-
grief for the years before diagnosis
-
What helps: In coaching and counselling, Mel learns:
-
how her ADHD and autism interact, so she can tell which part of her brain needs what
-
to reduce masking safely, starting with the people and places where it feels safe
-
to plan work around her energy, with deep-focus mornings, quieter afternoons, and recovery time after meetings
-
to ask for adjustments, such as noise-cancelling headphones, written agendas and flexible deadlines
-
to process the grief of late diagnosis, and make peace with her younger self
Her relationships at work: When Daniel tells Mel to 'apply yourself' she goes home and cries. She has applied herself harder than anyone she knows. When Daniel later asks, 'What would make this easier for you?', Mel answers honestly for the first time in her career. She asks for written briefs, a quiet space and flexible deadlines. Her work, already excellent, becomes easier to produce, and she stops dreading Mondays.
What Mel shows readers: it’s never too late to understand yourself. A diagnosis in midlife isn’t the end of a story. For many women, it’s where the story finally makes sense.
