Unapologetically me

There’s been a lot of talk about neurodivergence lately, especially when it comes to our clients and their children (which is great and necessary). So why am I writing this piece? It’s for us: the trainees, juniors, barristers, partners, judges – anyone in the legal world who is neurodivergent (or suspects they might be), and navigating a profession that prizes precision, stamina and judgement.

My journey to an ADHD diagnosis has been challenging, deeply personal, and ultimately empowering. Writing this feels scary and vulnerable, but I’m sharing it because awareness matters. If even one part of this resonates with you, I want you to know: you’re not alone, and you don’t need to apologise for the way your brain works.

Understanding the landscape

Neurodivergence is a broad umbrella that covers conditions like ADHD, autism, dyslexia, and that’s just scratching the surface. My experience is with ADHD, specifically the inattentive type, which is far more common in women and often overlooked because it doesn’t fit the stereotypical image of the “hyperactive little boy” bouncing off the walls. That stereotype is valid too, but it’s not the whole story. For many women, ADHD looks very different. We often mask, overcompensating with meticulous preparation and constant self-monitoring, which can delay recognition and lead to burnout.

Research suggests that around 15% of the UK population is neurodivergent. Statistically, that means a good number of people reading this are likely neurodivergent, and some may not even know it. Women diagnosed in adulthood typically receive their diagnosis in their mid-to-late 30s; one NHS Trust estimates the average age at 36–38. I was diagnosed at 29, earlier than average, but still after years of wondering why things that seemed effortless for others felt like climbing mountains for me.

My diagnostic journey

It started with patterns I couldn’t ignore: struggling to begin tasks, time-blindness around meetings, and the chaos of everyday “admin” (to name a few). I reached out to my sister, who is on her own similar path, and she suggested this may be ADHD. I dug deeper and decided I needed a professional view.

I’m lucky and privileged to work in a firm with access to an incredible nurse. After talking through my history and experiences, she encouraged me to see my GP. The first hurdle? Writing a one-page narrative about how my symptoms show up and have done over time, and how they affected me and my mental health. Classic inattentive ADHD move: I avoided it for weeks. Eventually, I got it done, completed a screening tool, scored sky-high, and was referred for a specialist call.

That call lasted an hour. The doctor confirmed ADHD was likely and put me on the NHS waiting list for a full assessment, then two years long. Today, waits can stretch from two years to over seven, depending on where you live; autism assessments for adults are usually even longer (note this is taking the NHS free public route, not a private route). At one point, I was told my wait had jumped to five years. Around that time, my mental health hit a low, and I needed more support. So, I reached back out to work and thank goodness for my firm’s ADHD coach (and that there was one). Even without a formal diagnosis, she was a lifeline for my confidence.

I hadn’t heard of Right to Choose, a legal route that lets patients in England pick an alternative NHS-funded provider, often cutting wait times to around six months (although this may be more now). When my coach told me about it, I switched and was seen just over six months later.

The diagnostic interview? Intense. Two and a half hours digging into childhood, education, work and relationships. The report? Fifty pages confirming predominantly inattentive ADHD. I got my diagnosis in October 2025, and the weight of uncertainty lifted. I wasn’t broken; my brain is just different. And that’s something to celebrate.

Being a neurodivergent lawyer

Let’s be honest, some people still don’t fully recognise the struggle. There are countless ways I adapt to fit in (though, really, I shouldn’t have to). Thankfully, my workplace gets it. I use headphones or my noise-cancelling Loops, move to quieter rooms when the open office feels overwhelming, and requested a standing desk because, yes, I’m a fidgeter. My supervisor and head of team (two inspiring women) have each sat down with me to talk through what I need. Together, we created a list of strategies that make my day-to-day easier.

And here’s the thing: my ADHD isn’t just a challenge, it’s a strength. My head of department calls it my superpower, and she’s right. ADHD brings creativity, resilience, hyperfocus and, especially in family law, an ability to deeply empathise with clients.

Lauren’s Diagnosed with Slay-DHD mug

But I won’t sugar-coat the lows. They’re real. I’m on a waiting list for medication to help calm my “loud brain”. In the meantime, I’ve found my own hacks: classical music for focus, and a team that understands if I arrive a little late after a rough night’s sleep. Oh, and my “Diagnosed with SLAY-DHD” mug? It’s received many a compliment and is my little badge of pride.

As a junior, opening up about this isn’t easy. Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD) – that intense emotional sting from perceived criticism or failure (to very briefly summarise it) – is common in ADHD. Research suggests almost everyone with ADHD experiences it. Learning about RSD has helped me manage it and reframe those “you’re too sensitive” comments (which, frankly, shouldn’t be happening, but we’re all still learning).

My aspirations as a neurodivergent lawyer

As a neurodivergent lawyer with ADHD, one of my aspirations is to help shape a profession that truly understands and accommodates the diverse ways in which lawyers and litigants work and process information. I want to be part of the conversation that ensures our courts and legal systems are inclusive, not just in principle, but in practice.

For example, I believe there is scope for greater awareness around adjustments that can make a real difference, which might include:

• extended timeframes for filing documents, where cognitive processing or executive functioning challenges are a factor
• clearer, more structured communication from courts and legal professionals, reducing ambiguity and cognitive load
• accessible hearing environments, including breaks during lengthy proceedings and flexibility in how evidence is presented

These changes don’t just benefit neurodivergent professionals; they create a fairer system for everyone. My hope is to contribute to guidance and best practice that empowers courts and other professionals to recognise these needs early and respond proactively.

Ultimately, I want to use my experience to advocate for a profession that values neurodiversity as a strength. ADHD brings creativity, resilience, and problem-solving skills that are invaluable in family law. By sharing my perspective, I aim to encourage others to see difference not as a barrier, but as an opportunity to innovate and improve the way we deliver justice.

Alongside systemic change, there are strategies that can help neurodivergent lawyers thrive day-to-day. These are approaches I’ve found useful and would recommend to others (but these are all just suggestions, not one-size-fits-all):

• structure your day with micro-deadlines: break tasks into smaller steps with clear timeframes – this reduces overwhelm and keeps momentum going
• leverage technology: tools like task managers, calendar reminders, and AI can help manage executive function challenges
• communicate openly where possible: if you need extra time or clarity, don’t be afraid to ask – transparency often leads to better collaboration
• create sensory-friendly workspaces: noise-cancelling headphones, natural lighting and decluttered desks can reduce distractions and improve focus
• schedule recovery time: court hearings and client meetings can be mentally taxing – build in short breaks to recharge and avoid burnout
• find your strengths and lean into them: ADHD often brings creativity and quick problem-solving, skills that are invaluable in family law. Use them to your advantage

What I want you to know

• ADHD can be hard. The journey to diagnosis can also be hard. But ADHD can also be amazing
• no two presentations are the same. What works for me might not work for you, but sharing and staying open-minded always helps
• our profession thrives when we make space for different minds

If you’re neurodivergent, or think you might be, please know this: you are important. We all are, neurodivergent and neurotypical alike. All our brains matter. Keep being your unapologetic self. I worried for years that I was “too much”. Now I know it’s just part of who I am and that’s okay.

I’m always happy for anyone, junior, senior, whatever your role, to reach out if you want to talk about this article. Sometimes, just knowing someone gets it makes all the difference.

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