ADHD doesn’t always look like struggle. Sometimes it looks like you don’t care. You miss a deadline. You go quiet in a meeting. You zone out mid-conversation. Not because you’re careless — but because you’re overloaded.
In the workplace, appearances matter more than we like to admit. And for those of us with ADHD, the gap between perception and reality can be wide, painful, and constant. It’s not the missed task that stings — it’s the raised eyebrow, the second-guessing, the quiet click of trust withdrawing.
This isn’t a thinkpiece about ADHD as a personal challenge. It’s about ADHD as a relational one — and what that means for the people who live it, and the people who work with them.
Invisible Friction, Visible Fallout
From the outside, ADHD behaviours often look like flakiness, overreaction, or distraction. But inside? They’re usually symptoms of deeper neurological strain.
You’re trying to focus — but your brain keeps jumping tracks. You’re desperate to respond to a message — but the notification is swallowed by an avalanche of inputs. You’re emotionally invested — but your response arrives two days late, shaped by guilt and exhaustion instead of clarity.
And here’s the worst part: those reactions aren’t just misunderstood. They’re punished. Over time, this leads to a vicious cycle — you feel judged, so you mask; masking leads to burnout; burnout leads to more missed cues. And the relational cost keeps climbing.
The Superpower No One Sees
But here’s the twist. ADHD isn’t actually a liability. It’s a turbo-charged engine for pattern-recognition.
Many of us with ADHD are exceptionally tuned into context: we can read a room before we walk in. We pick up on emotional nuance, project dynamics, the hidden subtext of “I’m fine.” We can cross technical domains quickly, connect dots others miss, and respond with empathy that’s fast, honest, and incisive.
Until we can’t.
Because when the inputs stack up too fast, the very mechanisms that allow for deep, intuitive communication become overloaded. The CPU throttles itself. And suddenly, someone who’s usually emotionally fluent is struggling to finish a sentence.
This contradiction — high emotional intelligence interrupted by brain fog — is rarely acknowledged, but it sits at the centre of many workplace misunderstandings.
Don’t Hack the Person. Upgrade the Relationship.
So what helps? Not a new to-do app. Not a standing desk. Not a miracle morning routine.
What helps is relational clarity.
Teams that thrive with neurodivergence don’t “fix” the ADHD brain. They create working relationships with better defaults:
- Clear scripts for follow-ups.
- Permission to ask again without passive aggression.
- Shared language for overwhelm.
- Structures that reward honesty, not just consistency.
It’s not about coddling — it’s about scaffolding. Giving people enough structure to stay upright without taking away their freedom to move.
ADHD doesn’t need curing. It needs generous interpretation.
Conclusion: Please Don’t Take It Personally
The hardest part of ADHD isn’t the forgetfulness or the distraction. It’s the look someone gives you when they think you just don’t care.
We notice those looks. We carry them.
So here’s the plea: If you work with someone who sometimes goes quiet, misses a cue, or seems “off,” don’t rush to assume the worst. They might be climbing out of a fog with everything they have. Give them the space to re-emerge. Ask — kindly — if they’re okay.
Because patience isn’t passive. It’s powerful.
And for someone navigating ADHD at work, it can feel like the one signal that cuts through the noise.