48 | THOUGHT LEADERSHIP
Fast systems, faster minds: Experiences of ADHD in the pay industries Mental Health First Aid (MHFA) England and the CIPP have joined forces to shine a spotlight on different experiences of neurodiversity of those working in the pay professions
M y Whole Self' is MHFA England’s campaign for workplace culture change. It calls on organisations to build psychologically safe environments where people can choose which parts of their identity they share at work. Yet, while 82% of employees say being themselves at work matters, fewer than half (41%) feel able to do so, a figure that’s fallen by 25% since 2020. That gap has consequences. Where psychological safety is lacking, 31% report reduced productivity, 34% poorer mental health and 36% lower engagement. For neurodivergent employees, the impact is even greater. Conversations about neurodiversity start with being seen. With that in mind, MHFA is grateful to have partnered with the CIPP to share stories of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) from across the pay industries. What follows are honest, personal reflections on living and working with ADHD, and how it weaves into careers, home lives and family relationships. Jennifer Brown ACIPP, Payroll Services Director, Cooper Parry My journey with neurodiversity began not with me, but with my child. Their school gently raised the possibility of neurodiversity and suggested that ADHD might be worth exploring. At the time, my focus was entirely on supporting them and understanding how best to help them navigate a world not designed with neurodivergent minds in mind. As I researched ADHD more deeply, I had a quiet but powerful realisation. The traits that had placed my child on this pathway were the same traits I’d lived with, struggled with and, in many ways, relied upon throughout my
adult life. What I’d always considered personal flaws or quirks suddenly had language, context and explanation. We’re now more than three years into the ADHD assessment process, still waiting for clarity and an official diagnosis. In the meantime, we’re doing the best we can. Despite the lack of formal answers, this journey has been deeply illuminating. It’s reframed how I understand my child, myself and others. ADHD is often said to present more clearly in women in their thirties, particularly those in leadership roles. That resonated with me because that was when my own journey really began. I began to understand why I thrived in chaos, why pressure and looming deadlines brought out my best work and why routine environments could feel suffocating. I finally had an explanation for the constant feeling of having 20,000 tabs open in my brain at once, all competing for attention as I navigated work, family life and everything else the day brought. Learning how to support my child also meant discovering ways to support myself. Giving the busy part of my brain background noise, such as music or a familiar television programme, allows me to hyperfocus on tasks I would otherwise find dull or overwhelming. These small adjustments have helped me manage my energy, focus and productivity in ways I never knew were possible. This understanding has changed the type of leader I am. Rather than expecting everyone to work in the same way, I focus on understanding how team members think, process information and stay motivated, enabling them to work in ways that are both effective and enjoyable. For me, it’s about playing to people’s strengths. Neurodivergent brains operate
differently to neurotypical brains, but different doesn’t mean limited. When recognised and supported, neurodiversity is a powerful asset. While I’m still exploring a potential diagnosis for myself, my priority remains my child. Learning about ADHD and
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neurodiversity has changed how I view mental health, ability and potential. It’s helped me replace self-criticism with compassion and curiosity. Adrian Goddard
ACIPP, CIPP Commercial Director Long before I ever had language for
neurodivergence, it was clear to everyone around me that I was wired a little differently. My
mum used to tell stories about having to limit my sugar intake because even a simple cordial could send my energy levels through the roof. At the time, all I knew was that I had a lot of energy and an equally busy mind. Interestingly though, as the physical manifestation of this reduced during adolescence, the mental manifestation amplified. At school, the feedback was painfully consistent. Every parent’s evening followed the same script. “Adrian has so much potential.” “He’s intelligent.” “He could go far.” Followed by, “He’s easily distracted.” “He talks too much.” “He doesn’t apply himself.” The implication was always that the capability was there, but the behaviour wasn’t. What nobody ever explained or took the time to understand was how my brain worked. Rather, all I understood was that it didn’t work
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