On Being a Square Peg in a Round-Hole World

For most of my life, I thought I was just bad at being normal.

The open-plan offices that left me drained after an hour. The networking events where I'd rather hide in the bathroom than make small talk. The way my brain would hyperfocus on problems until I forgot to eat, then crash completely.

Unknowingly built coping mechanisms. Learned to mask like a pro. Became very good at appearing neurotypical while quietly burning out from the effort.

Then, at 43, (and after a two year journey with the information!) I came to discover that normal for me was something different. I was neurodivergent.

The Revelation

The AuDHD (the wild combination of autism and ADHD) revelation didn't change who I was—it changed how I understood who I'd always been. Suddenly, my whole life made more sense. The patterns I'd fought against weren't character flaws; they were features of how my brain actually works.

That hyperfocus that worried colleagues? It's what helped me build out ideas that always come from strong pattern recognition. The sensitivity to office chaos? It's what made me excellent at reading the emotional undercurrents in client meetings. The need for (a lot of!) quiet processing time? Essential for the strategic thinking that helped create an award-winning business.

The Business World's Blind Spot

Here's what struck me: the business world is obsessed with diversity, yet neurodivergent minds—roughly 20% of the population—remain largely invisible. We're expected to fit neurotypical systems or quietly struggle.

But some of the most successful people I know are neurodivergent. The entrepreneurs who see patterns others miss. The strategists who think five moves ahead. The creatives who solve problems in ways that seem to come from nowhere.

The issue isn't our minds. It's systems designed for only one type of brain.

What I've Learned

Working with neurodivergent clients has taught me that success isn't about fixing yourself—it's about designing your life around how you actually work.

The ADHD executive who stopped fighting her need for variety and created a role that leverages it. The autistic entrepreneur who built authentic relationships by abandoning traditional networking. The highly sensitive leader who learned to see her empathy as a competitive advantage.

Each discovered that their neurodivergent traits weren't obstacles to overcome but strengths to leverage.

The Masking Tax

But here's the hidden cost: masking is exhausting. Pretending to be neurotypical all day leaves little energy for anything else. I've watched brilliant people burn out not from their work, but from the effort of appearing "normal" while doing it.

The revelation isn't that we need to unmask completely—professional contexts require adaptation. It's that we need to mask less and leverage more.

A Different Kind of Success

Now I help neurodivergent minds design success on their own terms. Not by forcing square pegs into round holes, but by finding the square holes where they naturally fit.

Because the world doesn't need more people trying to be normal. It needs people brave enough to be authentically, brilliantly themselves.

Sometimes our greatest strength lies not in fitting in, but in standing out.