Disorganised? You're Still Leadership Material
Forgetting important meetings, struggling to organise your thoughts, feeling overwhelmed by simple tasks are exhausting daily realities that make leadership feel impossibly hard.
But what if I told you that being open about these struggles could transform you into a more authentic, effective leader?
As a society, we've mythologised the "perfect" executive as the one who effortlessly juggles multiple priorities, never misses a deadline, and maintains composure under pressure. But here's what I'm continually learning about authentic leadership and how it's not about perfection - it's about being courageously human in a world that expects you to be superhuman.
The Mask We Wear
For my initial years as an Executive Director, I performed what I call "executive theatre." I managed a global alliance of accounting firms across 65 countries, oversaw large budgets annually, and led the organisation to industry awards. On paper, I was succeeding.
Behind the scenes? I was exhausted. My ADHD brain meant I had to work twice as hard to stay organised and focused. Social anxiety made networking events - an important pillar of our business - draining rather than energising. I'd spend hours preparing for phone calls that others handled effortlessly, and I developed elaborate systems to remember crucial details that seemed to slip away moments after meetings ended.
Professionally, I maintained high standards and delivered results. But the energy it took to work against my natural patterns was unsustainable. I was constantly fighting my own brain, trying to force it into moulds that didn't fit. Looking back, I was experiencing exactly what I'd later write about in my article on sustainable teaching: the dangerous myth that professional excellence requires personal exhaustion.
The turning point came when I finally became honest with my team about how I worked best. Instead of pretending to be someone I wasn't, I started acknowledging my challenges and letting each team member play to their strengths. Suddenly, what had felt like personal failings became opportunities for collaborative solutions.
The Liberation of Truth
It took another four years before I finally cracked. An ME/CFS diagnosis had been added to my collection of health challenges, and I was running on empty. In a moment of desperate honesty, I admitted to my colleagues and the board that I was struggling with my health, my executive function, and my ability to maintain the facade of effortless competence.
Their response? "How can we help?"
No judgment. No questions about my capability. Just practical support and a three-month sabbatical to recover. I kept my job and, more importantly, gained their respect for my honesty.
Redefining Leadership Strength
That experience taught me something revolutionary: authentic leadership isn't about hiding your struggles - it's about transforming them into strengths.
My ADHD hyperfocus, once a source of shame when I'd disappear into tasks for hours, became my secret weapon for deep strategic thinking. My experience with overwhelm made me fiercely protective of my team's wellbeing and more attuned to signs of burnout in others. My struggles with traditional organisational systems drove me to innovate more flexible, inclusive approaches that benefited everyone.
Now, as I've transitioned from boardroom to classroom, these same "dysfunctions" make me a more effective educator. I understand the student who can't sit still during lessons, because I can't either. I recognise the overwhelmed learner who needs information presented differently, because traditional approaches don't always work for my brain either.
This connection became even clearer recently at the University of Derby's Further Education showcase, where speakers emphasised the importance of being authentic and sharing our stories to empower learners. John Burrell, an Advanced Practitioner at Nottingham College, presented his research on "Neurodiversity in Lecturers in UK FE Colleges," and it resonated deeply with me.
Here's what struck me: we're brilliant at supporting neurodivergent learners with resources, strategies, accommodations flow freely. But what about when the teacher is neurodivergent? John's research revealed the hidden struggles we face and the lack of openness about our own challenges. There's an assumption that educators should have it all sorted, that we don't need the same understanding we readily offer our students.
The Authenticity Advantage
When leaders and educators admit their humanity, something magical happens: psychological safety flourishes. Teams perform better when they're not expending energy maintaining facades. Innovation increases when people feel safe to share unconventional ideas. Trust deepens when vulnerability is modelled from the top.
Research from Brené Brown consistently shows that vulnerable leadership creates stronger, more resilient organisations. Yet we continue to perpetuate the myth that leaders must be invulnerable machines rather than authentic humans.
This myth is particularly damaging in education, where we're supposed to be the ones with all the answers. But what if our struggles actually make us better teachers? What if our executive dysfunction helps us design more inclusive classrooms because we understand firsthand how traditional systems can fail?
My neurodivergence makes me more relatable. My struggles with executive dysfunction enhances my empathy and drive my innovation.
Breaking the Silence
John's research highlighted something we all know but rarely discuss: the isolation that comes with being a neurodivergent educator. We'll champion neurodiversity for our students whilst secretly worrying that our own differences make us less professional, less competent, less worthy of our positions.
I've sat in meetings where colleagues discussed "difficult" students, not realising I shared many of those same traits. I've nodded along while leadership teams planned "efficiency drives" that would have made my job nearly impossible. The irony wasn't lost on me that I was part of inclusivity initiatives whilst hiding my own need for inclusion.
This silence isn't just personally damaging; it's professionally wasteful. When neurodivergent educators mask their authentic selves, we lose the very perspectives that could revolutionise our teaching practices. We forfeit the innovation that comes from thinking differently.
Permission to Be Human
If you're reading this while battling your own executive dysfunction - whether diagnosed or simply suspected - know this: your brain works differently, not defectively. Your struggles don't disqualify you from leadership.
The world doesn't need more perfect executives performing flawless competence. It needs leaders brave enough to model that strength includes struggle, that capability includes challenge, and that excellence includes the occasional spectacular failure.
Your executive dysfunction isn't something to overcome - it is a part of your unique leadership fingerprint. Your hyperfocus sessions might look chaotic to others, but they often produce breakthrough innovations. Your need for movement and stimulation might seem unprofessional, but it models for your team that productivity doesn't require conformity.
Here's what embracing executive dysfunction as authentic leadership actually looks like in practice:
Transparent Communication: Instead of pretending to have perfect recall, I openly use note-taking systems and ask for meeting summaries. This normalises support tools for everyone and creates a more accessible work environment.
Flexible Structures: Rather than enforcing rigid meeting formats that drain energy, consider walking meetings, standing discussions, and varied presentation styles. These benefit neurodivergent and neurotypical colleagues alike.
Honest Feedback: When my ADHD brain spots inefficiencies others miss, I share those observations. My different perspective often reveals systemic issues that conventional thinking overlooks.
Collaborative Problem-Solving: Instead of struggling alone with complex administrative tasks, I built systems for shared accountability and peer support. This has strengthened team relationships whilst reducing individual stress.
The beauty of authentic leadership is that it gives others permission to be human too. When you model that it's okay to struggle with organisation, my colleagues and students feel safer admitting their own challenges. When you demonstrate that asking for help as a strength, not a weakness, it transforms the entire workplace culture.
This approach mirrors what I've learnt about sustainable teaching - that working with our natural patterns rather than against them creates better outcomes for everyone. Just as sustainable teaching practices prevent educator burnout whilst improving student experiences, authentic leadership that embraces neurodivergence creates more resilient, innovative organisations.