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What inclusivity at work looks like for someone with ADHD

Health Secretary Wes Streeting is launching an independent review into the rising demand for mental health, ADHD and autism services in England.

Maybe it's something about the moment we’re in, maybe it’s just my world getting smaller and more honest. Either way, I’ve noticed that at Brightec there are far more open conversations about neurodivergence than I’ve experienced elsewhere. I should probably say this upfront: I have ADHD.

When everything suddenly made sense

My mum always knew. She told me, more than once, but nothing really came of it. So I didn’t take it on board either. I just carried on, struggling through life even though I knew I was smart. Until, after having a baby, the wheels properly fell off the wagon. I finally got a diagnosis — and honestly, everything started to make sense. Life got better.

What prompted me to get diagnosed? I overheard someone in a café talking openly and honestly about their own journey. A complete stranger, just sharing. I’d love to find them one day, just to say thank you.

The risk of being honest at work

Like most people with ADHD, I have never told any employer that I have it. The truth is, I was ashamed. I didn’t want to risk not getting a job in the first place, missing out on promotions, or not being trusted with responsibility. I worried that if I said I had ADHD, people would decide I was lazy, unreliable, or forgetful.

What they wouldn’t see is that my “laziness” means I’m always looking for better, faster ways of doing things — saving time, money and energy. And because I value teamwork, I’ll never cut corners. Yes, I’m forgetful, but I don’t rely on my memory, Google Calendar does that for me.

More than anything, I have a strong sense of fairness. I want both our clients and our team to get the best deal possible. I see people as individuals, not job titles, and I adapt how I work to meet the different needs and preferences of our different clients. One-size-fits-all has never made sense to me, and it never will.

The visibility gap

ADHD and autism are protected identities, yet I couldn’t find any published statistic that directly answers the question: what percentage of employers actually know they have ADHD staff?

What we do know is that many people don’t disclose their ADHD at work, which means employer awareness is always going to be lower than the real prevalence. It’s estimated that around 10% of the population has ADHD, but only about 5% have a diagnosis. From that alone, you could reasonably infer that many employers simply aren’t being told — or made aware — at all.

Why disclosure shouldn’t be the starting point

Under UK law, employees with ADHD are entitled to reasonable adjustments once an employer knows about their disability. But that’s the catch: you have to disclose to access those protections. Research from Understood.org suggests that only 24% of diagnosed people ask for adjustments at work, and of those, just over half receive accommodations that are actually helpful. That means only around 6% of people with ADHD are getting reasonable adjustments that work for them.

From an employer’s perspective, that could mean less than 1% of your workforce ever raising ADHD with you. So it’s hardly surprising that many organisations have limited experience, confidence, or established practice when it comes to making reasonable adjustments — even though the need is likely much bigger than it appears.

What inclusive working looks like in practice

Have I asked for reasonable adjustments at work? Honestly, no. I haven’t needed to. And that’s kind of the point.

What would I reasonably ask for anyway? Flexible hours. Hybrid working. Two screens. A quiet space to work with fewer interruptions. Noise-cancelling headphones. Software to help with organisation. The option of a standing desk.

At Brightec, these come as standard. And I’m incredibly productive because of it — but so is the rest of the team. In a previous job, it was completely normal to have a radio blasting out of a speaker right next to my head. I hated it. I was exhausted by the end of every day. People would interrupt me constantly by having conversations next to my desk — not even about work. I tried to manage it by bringing in my own noise-cancelling headphones and was told, “we don’t do that here.” That was a lonely day. But it actually makes me chuckle when I think about it now.

Why designing for difference benefits all of us

Before this, I was a teacher — long before I knew I had ADHD. The adjustments I made in my lessons to be more inclusive didn’t just help a few students; they benefited everyone. Yes, changing how you teach takes more thought and time at first, but all students gain from it. Over time, that way of thinking stops being an “adjustment” and becomes your standard practice.

That mindset transfers directly to the workplace. Instead of making changes for the “divergent” one, you design company-wide ways of working that recognise “diversity” — labels or not. And when this flexibility and inclusivity become the default, reasonable adjustments stop feeling like adjusting at all.

Why this matters to me

Maybe that’s why I’m writing this now. Not because I suddenly have all the answers, but because I work in an environment that gives me the space to be myself and to thrive. And if sharing my experience helps even one person feel less alone — or helps one employer see that inclusive ways of working allow people to do their best work — then it’s worth it.

At Brightec, I don’t feel pressure to diminish or conceal parts of who I am — instead, I feel supported to bring my whole self to my work. That support has been quietly transformative, freeing up energy I didn’t realise I was spending elsewhere.

For the K-pop fans: I’m done hidin’, now I’m shinin’ like I’m born to be.

(Read more about Bianca in our '10 minutes with' series.)