Protecting Your Energy When the World Won’t Slow Down
Firstly, I just want to give a shout out to any readers who have mastered the art of understanding the unpredictable beast that is ND energy. A confusing little fecker that might give you a whiff of hope that there’s some petrol in the tank… and then you do the most mediocre of chores and feel like your brain has been turned into a smoothie.
If you haven’t mastered that, then… well, how the devil are you going to protect it if you don’t even know how it works? Just kidding. As you were. Keep reading.
So, let’s assume you’ve got at least some understanding of how your energy behaves, in all its unpredictable random sparkliness. The next step is protecting it. Because you’re living in a world that won’t slow down. Not even a teeny bit. Not even if you ask it really nicely.
And this is the bit no one wants to talk about. The world isn’t going to adjust itself around your capacity. Deadlines still exist, clients still want quick replies, and life in its many forms keeps moving at the same pace regardless of how you’re feeling. Which is why protecting your energy isn’t optional. It’s sanity maintenance.
And when you’re neurodivergent, then that’s double funzies, because your energy isn’t linear. It fluctuates. It spikes. It drops. It goes out for a pint of milk and comes back 3 days later. It’s that crazy unpredictable drunk uncle that you don’t want at your wedding.
So, this isn’t about escaping the world. It’s about learning how to stay in it without acquiring yourself a one way ticket to burnout town!
The world isn’t built for you. Accept it…and move on
Most systems are built on the assumption that energy is stable. That you wake up, work, produce, and repeat. Nice, neat, and predictable. Lovely for people whose brains behave like that. Big fan. Congratulations to them. Except that’s not how a lot of ND brains work.
Some days you can fly through work like you’ve unlocked a secret level of existence and suddenly you are unstoppable. Other days, opening your laptop feels like a hostage negotiation between your fingers and your brain. Same person. Same workload. Completely different capacity.
And yet… none of those changes how the world responds to you. You’re still expected to show up, deliver, reply, and keep things moving — even on the days where your brain has very much not signed off on that plan. No one pops up and says, “Ah, I see your brain has gone offline today, let’s circle back when it returns.”
The problem is that external demand stays consistent, while your capacity didn’t get the memo. So, when those two things collide, pressure builds. And when that pressure sits there long enough, it turns into stress, then exhaustion, and eventually burnout.
Which is why this whole “just push through” approach doesn’t really work for brains like ours. (It barely works for anyone, to be honest, but that’s a rant for another day.)
Urgency will eat your energy if you let it
One of the biggest drains on your energy isn’t actually the work itself — it’s urgency. Everything suddenly feels important. Everything feels like it needs doing now. Everything feels like it will fall apart if you don’t respond immediately.
But a lot of that urgency isn’t real. It’s artificial deadlines, other people’s poor planning, and those “quick favours” that somehow take half your day and leave you wondering why you opened your laptop in the first place.
If you’ve spent years being reliable, helpful, and responsive, you’re probably very good at jumping straight into action mode without even questioning it. It feels productive. It feels responsible. It also quietly sucks the life out of you.
The problem is that urgency pushes you into adrenaline. And adrenaline is great … in small, occasional bursts. As a lifestyle choice? Less ideal. You end up running on “just get through it” energy, which works, right up until it really, really doesn’t.
A small but surprisingly effective shift is asking yourself: “is this actually urgent?” Not “does it feel urgent” but is it genuinely time-critical. Because those two things are very different. Even if your brain insists they’re identical.
Energy boundaries are different from emotional ones
I’m the queen when it comes to chatting about boundaries. It’s like I discovered them, 51 years later in my life, and now they are my specialist subject. In fact, it pretty much is that! But most of those conversations are about emotional ones. Protecting your feelings, managing relationships, that sort of thing. Energy boundaries are slightly different. They’re about protecting your capacity.
Because you can technically have the time to do something, but not the energy. You might look at your calendar and think, “Well, I’ve got an hour free,” but your brain is already fried, your sensory load is maxed out, and you’ve made approximately 47,000 decisions already that day. That hour is not usable. It’s like a mirage hour.
This is where one of the most useful sentences you’ll ever learn comes in: “I don’t have capacity for that.” Not followed by your life story. Not turned into something apologetic, or a giant discussion. Just that.
It sounds simple, and it is. It’s also wildly uncomfortable if you’re used to over-explaining, over-justifying, and making sure everyone else is fine first. But it works. Quietly, efficiently, and without wringing out what little energy you had left.
Saying no without it being a 3-part drama
If you’re anything like me, saying no doesn’t just happen. It comes with a full internal production. You draft the explanation, rehearse the tone, anticipate their reaction, and try to make it sound reasonable, valid, and entirely non-offensive to anyone, ever.
The irony being that by the time you’ve finished explaining, you’ve used more energy than the original task would have taken. How’s that for efficiency…or lack of it!
The truth is most of that explanation is for us. It’s working hard to make the discomfort of setting a boundary feel safer. But “no” doesn’t require a backstory. It doesn’t require a breakdown of your week, your mental state, or your entire life context. As Stu taught me once, it’s an entire sentence. And the more you practise it, the less energy you leak trying to make your boundaries palatable for everyone involved. I promise you it starts to feel easier the more you try it on for size. In fact, it’s so incredibly freeing. Because it’s you having your own back.
Not everything is worth the cost anymore
One of the biggest shifts that comes with protecting our energy is realising that just because something is possible, it doesn’t mean it’s sustainable.
We ‘could’ say yes. We ‘could’ take it on. We ‘could’ push through.
But then we could also decide to deep clean our entire house at 11pm on a Tuesday night. Half of my teenage years were spent piling the entire contents of my bedroom floor onto my bed at about 10om, then crying and putting it all back onto the floor. The question is… should we?
Because every “yes” is stealing from a limited resource. And if you’re not consciously deciding where that energy goes, it gets spent by default. Usually on the loudest, most urgent, or most guilt-inducing thing in front of you.
Protecting your energy means getting honest about trade-offs. Letting go of “shoulds”, looking properly at commitments, and actively choosing long-term stability over the short-term approval that we can often crave. Sweet dopamine.
Sometimes that means making decisions that don’t look particularly impressive on paper but feel a lot safer in our body. Which, frankly, should be the only measure that really counts.
Recovery doesn’t protect itself
One of the sneakiest things about energy is how quickly we decide we’re “fine again”.
You have one good day. Maybe two if you’re feeling particularly wild. You wake up, your brain is cooperating, you answer a few emails without wanting to lie down afterwards, and suddenly you’re like, “Right. I’m back. Power Rangers…let’s go!.”
And off you go. Rebooking everything. Saying yes to things. Catching up on the 463 tasks you’ve been avoiding. Possibly reorganising a cupboard for emotional reasons. Fully convinced you’ve turned a corner.
Newsflash. You haven’t turned a corner. You’ve just found the exit of the car park.
Because early recovery energy is not a full tank. It’s not even half a tank. It’s more like your car has stopped making that alarming flashing noise and you’ve gone, “Great, let’s drive to Scotland.” You’re out of the danger zone. That’s it. But you’re not on the home straight yet.
And this is where we accidentally undo all the progress we’ve made. Not because we’re reckless (well, some of us can be!), but because it feels so good to have energy back that we immediately spend it. All of it. In one go. Like a toddler with birthday money.
Then we’re surprised when we crash again.
Protecting your energy at this stage means doing something deeply unnatural: not filling the space. It means leaving gaps. Building buffers. Resisting the urge to “catch up” on everything all at once. Saying no to your old pace, even when your brain is loudly insisting that this time will be different. (It won’t. Your brain is a liar when it’s excited.)
Recovery isn’t just about getting your energy back. It’s about not immediately burning through it the moment it returns.
When boundaries feel like a scratchy jumper (and they will)
Protecting your energy isn’t just practical — it’s deeply inconvenient on an emotional level. Because when you start doing it properly, things come up. Guilt. Fear. That slightly sick feeling that you’ve just disappointed someone. And sometimes actual pushback from people who were very happy with the old version of you. The one that was constantly nodding like their head wasn’t attached properly. Saying yes, staying available, and overextending herself. Funny that.
That doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. It means you’ve stopped being as convenient. And yes, it does feel uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. Like you’ve put on a jumper that technically fits but is somehow both itchy and judging you.
You’ll be tempted to soften it, to explain more, to just do the thing this once because it’s easier than holding the boundary. But every time you do that, you teach people (and yourself) that your limits are optional. The real work here isn’t setting the boundary. It’s holding it when it would be much easier not to. This is a huge part of my life story, so believe me when I say I get it. But I’m also now boundaries number one fan!
You don’t have to live at the pace of everything around you
The world might not slow down. That’s true. Deeply annoying, but true. But that doesn’t mean you have to speed up to match it, because that’s how you ended up here in the first place. Remember?
Protecting your energy long-term often means your life looks a bit different. Less stuff, more intention. Not churning your output like a sausage factory. Which, depending on your previous operating style, can feel suspiciously like you’re “not doing enough”. But you are. You’re just not doing everything, thank god.
And yes, sometimes it can feel like you’re not keeping up with everyone else. Like you’re dawdling while the rest of the world is power-walking past you in Lycra, with a podcast on 3x speed. But I can promise you this: they’re exhausted too. They’re just better at pretending they’re not.
What you gain instead is something far more useful: stability, sustainability, and the ability to keep going without repeatedly crashing and having to rebuild yourself from scratch every few months. This isn’t about doing less for the sake of it. It’s about doing what actually works for your brain, your body, and your life in the long term.
Because if it only works when your brain’s on fire and your nervous system is halfway out the window, it doesn’t actually work.
After Burnout: What Real Recovery Looks like for NDs
ROLL UP, ROLL UP. THE WILDEST SHOW IN TOWN HAS ARRIVED! YOU’VE GOT A VIP, FRONT ROW SEAT TO SEE CRASH & THE BURNOUT BLUES BAND, featuring songs from their greatest hits album, like “Marshmallow Brain” and who could forget “ANGRY FOR NO DISCERNABLE REASON!” plus that all-time classic “Zero spoons & fucks to give.”
I know, I paint a very rosy picture of the old ND “Burnout”, funtimes, shitz ‘n’ gigz… but until you understand exactly how your energy arrives and how you need to manage it, you will repeat the same pattern of burnout, over and over and over…
Ask me how I know? Yes! ::ding ding ding:: correct answer, I know, because I’ve been there several times, full send to destination fucked (said in “Matt Rose Aussie Guy Voice”).
I’ve been through the fully immersive “Life Hurricane” simulator on several occasions, from humble dust devil, to full on Cat5 Katrina and every time I reflect on how we got here and clearly see all the warning signs. From the first roof tile rattling all the way to “Oh no, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore…” in what seems like a blink of an eye.
But the real kicker is yet to land, when you inevitably crash-n-burn harder than a cut-price electric car using auto-steer, and you are absolutely wiped emotionally, physically, spiritually. You surface, as addicts might identify, with “a moment of clarity” (I know I did), as you realise that it all has to change, everything, what came before was unsustainable. The way you found that out was to Live-Action Role Play* using a strategy that required an ill-advised amount of energy burnt in an unreasonably short time-frame. (*hat tips to the LARPers!)
It’s called BURNout for a reason… You have literally burnt through your entire stock of “coping” and now have to rethink the overall game play, whilst attempting to continue living, earning and remaining sane.
And, as you lie there in that fragile state, where breakfast is a life goal, and “dressed before noon” is about as likely as winning a national lottery every day for a year, you realise a horrible truth.
The burnout is not done with you yet, oh no buster… it’s taken you everything you have, maybe even more than you had, to get here. The real challenge begins once you hit the eye of the storm. This calm center allows you to reflect from a vantage point, and assess the size of the storm, and you realise, whatever the magnitude there’s only one route to recovery… The way back is through the other side…
Staring at a blurred wall of thought and vortex of emotions, you’re not wrong to flinch away. Whatever your route to burnout there’s going to be a fair amount of shame and inward blame stacked up ready for you to process and no-one claps their hands together and exclaims “Goody gum-drops, lets play the blame and shame game!“. Here definitely be dragons, and in fact probably these dragons are mere dragonlets of the massive monstrous demon dragons locked behind the door marked “Childhood”. Those deep, ominous rumbling sounds are the bass-notes echoing through your head. Pulsing as your heart beats, an energy hungry beast that gives your enemies a 2X damage for every one hit and wakes you at 2am. Sweating.
It’s natural to want to shrink away. Your bed is safety, the duvet will protect you from the hooded claw, and, who knows, even keep some vampires from your door. But, that’s a lot to ask of bed linen, even if it is from M&S. Lying, passively and waiting for the pressure to release is not progress, that’s stagnation, rotting away in the depressed, comatose lethargy that burnout brings.
It is such a warm and tempting place to remain, forever at the eye of it all, life moving around you, whatever little routine or safety net you draw around you is “enough”. It is… for now. But do not get stuck there, that way victimhood lies, and that is living hell. A learned helplessness, of being coddled and cossetted. It’s tempting.
But you need to know, and fully accept that no one’s coming to help you.
That was my huge revelation from my first round of therapy, after my first major burnout, when my Dr’s were calling my absolute lethargy “depression”, and my all-gas, no brakes bouts of “mania”, were “Nothing to worry about. Drink less caffeine and get more sleep.” (what a Dr. actually said to me).
Oh, and there’s also the insomnia, yeah, “get more sleep“… good one.
At some point you have to make the effort, it’s you and only you. Not your partner, not your family, kids or friends. YOU.
You have to get yourself “well”, what that looks like is unknowable at this point, just accepting that this is on you is enough. When you have hit rock-bottom and the only way is up** an uphill struggle, right when you are at a point when you have no capacity for creating a rational strategy to make your way back is going to look like the least “do-able” decision.
This is why you have a plan before you go in, creating a disaster recovery plan in the middle of a disaster will give you a grab bag of dumb decisions and half-assed ideas. All the while depleting what little energy you already have. Again, hello, been there, done that. 1 star, do not recommend.
The acceptance of that truth will unlock everything else, being kind to yourself throughout will speed up the recovery. Word of warning, there’s “being kind” i.e. nope-ing the family reunion, or skipping the friend’s brunch and then there’s “slacking off on the road to recovery” with behaviours such as “one more hour of doomscrolling AuDHD memes before bed” and “Like my pants, this shirt will do another three days before it needs washing“.
I find that a strict routine prevents slippage of progress. My plan when I fought back the first time was to regain all I had lost, the focus, the 18 hour days for 12 weeks straight. I was a machine, I just forgot to get an oil change, now I am back I am BACK! No, do not do that – it leads to some very fun prescription narcotics that “mellow you the fuck out” as my mate once said. When you recover, do not build the same bonfire just to burn it all down again…
** Never got why that song got the airtime it did, if the only way is indeed “up”, then you must be at rock-bottom, right? Why then are they so cheerfully singing about it?
My guidance would be; bed by 10pm, up by 6am, or 7am on weekends. Bed has to be made, bed clothes folded. 1pt of water, with pink rock salt (for the sodium and trace iron) and lemon juice (helps regulate bowel!), coffee and breakfast. Then get dressed.
That’s my morning and as long as I am in my office by 10am the morning is won! I am often in by 9am, but even though I am more regulated now than I have ever been, I do not chastise a slow morning, these are the perks of the self-employed life. As long as I am not letting anyone down, I can get in at 10 if I want. A “luxury” I afford myself, which is more a need at times.
I won’t detail my entire routine, but that’s my morning and it is part of keeping my life consistent and regulated. Consistency for me is more; accelerate, then coast, accelerate then coast. I cannot just be foot flat to the floor, that way insanity lies. Plus my routine may not work for you; you find the routine that helps, but I know that too many mornings without this simple strategy and things are going to get blustery and likely be headed towards tornado season.
My crawl back to sanity and return to a new-normal was not easy, and had all sorts of consequences. Lost relationships, changing social connections, finding love. But when I returned to a more regulated life, I was different, slightly less angry, slightly more wary of people. A decade of daily othering, and bullying will do that.
The way back is to re-evaluate what your energy budget will get spent on and accept it
You have to realise you have finite “spoons” and so have to ration how they get used. Arguing over a parking ticket? Yeah, I have done that, was it worth it? Yeah, in the moment, but actually that’s 4 or 5 high energy interactions where you spend your precious energy for little to no positive return to your life. Learning to “let it go” can be hard with an innate sense of right and wrong. Some things are simply “not worth it”, as a spend from the finite energy budget. Here’s a list of things that never made the cut after various burnouts…
- Work – I gave up having a job, seemed the same shit whatever building I went to.
- Energy hoovers – people or situations that zap your mood and cost time & energy.
- Worrying what other people think/say about me – I’m odd, deal with it.
- Meeting other’s expectations – you do you, I’ll continue being my sweet awesome self.
- Quid-pro-quo relationships – yeah, that’s not how the universe works, karma is paid forward and I am not one to argue with the universe.
- No longer policing the world – adding to the karmic flow is the notion that some problems are going to be solved by the universe and I do not have to keep score. See someone weaving in and out of traffic? That’s a situation where the universe will come a-calling sooner or later… Someone being an a-hole? Knock. Knock. Muthafuqur… UNIVERSE CALLING.
- Red rope – the red-rope around my time is sacrosanct, I choose where I spend it, you do not get to jump the queue by waiving money at me. Take a ticket, sit down, be patient. I will get to you in due course.
- Firebreaks – whether I am due a break, or not, I will take days off after an intense project or working for a deadline. Allows my brain the time to transition from the project to new stuff and gives me energy recharge and prep time. I try to take Fridays off, definitely in the afternoon, and if I put in a firebreak then it’ll usually be a Monday and Tuesday, giving a longer weekend, and less impact to any ongoing projects.
If I do not respect these life rules I will burn out.
I know.
I have tried not doing these things.
I have burnouts 2, 3 and 4 to remind me of this. So, by a process of elimination I have curated my life to be as respectful of my time and energy as I can be, and ensure others respect these precious things too. No project, or person is worth my life on hold for months whilst I try and extinguish the flaming rubble my life becomes if I let others trample all over my own rules.
There’s no easy way back, and when you do emerge from the maelstrom and the destruction is apparent and everywhere and it can seem hopeless even trying to pick up and start again. But here’s the thing you have to cling to, you get to build it back the way you want. Fresh start, blank canvas, share your insights with those you love and who wish only good outcomes for you. Tell them what you have to do, or stop doing, if they truly love you , they will not only get it, they will advocate for you too.
Do not be shy about stating what you can and can no longer be expected to do. If you keep the household clean, fed and safe and it feels like a one-person crusade then delegate some of it or accept it will not get done anymore. This is not about alienating your loved ones, and those you live with, but more sharing with them the additional burden of the cognitive load and the overall weight of carrying it for the family. Teenagers and adult children living at home are quite capable of doing a load of washing. If they can work out playing a game on an X Box, they can figure out the right washing machine program.
Harder to do this at work, but if you are valued then you should have a conversation which shares the dangers of you shouldering certain loads. An explanation of burnout and paid time off might help them see the economic sense in making the accommodations?
Or think about job sharing, or adjusting your hours, which you should be legally allowed to do, we are in the UK, check local labour laws where you are before flicking the bird to your boss and saying “two days a week or imma be suing your azz”. Maybe not do that wherever you are employed.
After burnout your life is going to change, your capacity to do and cope may change, your tolerance to certain stimuli or situations may be different, and thousands of other minute but highly personal things may alter, but you have to give yourself permission to accept that these are things you have to let go. BE KIND TO YOURSELF. It’s handy to think “would I talk to my best friend/partner/kids like that?” and chances are you’re in an abusive relationship with your internal monologue.
BE KIND TO YOURSELF!
We’ve argued from Ep 01 that self employment is the perfect role for you if you have variable energy, focus and struggle with all the things that neurodivergent folk deal with on the daily. You get to show up as/when you can, and with the flexibility of letting you do what you can at a time that suits you. It’s not for everyone, but if you have a skill that you can monetise, then self-employment may just be the way out that you need.
A final bit of maths before I sign off.
If you work for the national minimum wage, for over 21s that’s £12.21 (time of writing 22 Feb 2026). A 38 hour week gives you £463.98.
Lets say you work in an office doing basic PA stuff, if you were self employed PA you’d charge a commercial rate of circa £30 an hour, and you only have to work 15.5 hrs to exceed your earnings at the full-time job. Work a 30 hour week and you earn £900, less tax and savings etc. and you will take home more than the PAYE position. With the right clients and projects you’d work 8 hours fewer a week and earn more, delivering at your own pace and timescale. It’s not for everyone, but for the right people, probably burnt out from attempting to scale the corporate ladder, then it could literally save your health and wellbeing.
It worked for me and whilst I still managed to burnout a few more times since the first, and biggest time, at least I didn’t have to explain to my boss why Fridays were “not doable” for the foreseeable future. Or playing the shame game, as you lie there on the sofa, feeling like you are letting everyone down, but unable to move.
With the right approach, right proposition to your local business community and a few local networking meetings you can earn a decent enough income without living a shadow life. Burnt out beyond recognition and probably self-medicating in the evening and twice at weekends. A story for another day I feel…
Be kind to YOURSELF and others.
Running on Empty: How ND Energy Actually Works
There’s a very specific kind of tired that doesn’t make sense on paper. The kind where you look at your day and think, But I didn’t even do that much. You sent a few emails, had one meeting, put the washing on, maybe even cancelled something because you were “being sensible”, and yet by 4pm you feel like you’ve been dragged backwards through a hedge. Not dramatic burnout, not collapse-on-the-floor exhaustion, just that low, humming depletion that makes everything feel heavier than it should. Like you’re coming down with a bug that never turns up.
For years, I thought that meant I was weak, lazy, or just not built for “proper” business. Spoiler: it wasn’t that. It was energy debt, and I was quietly racking it up like it had no interest rate.
The burnout that didn’t look like burnout
When I finally hit proper burnout, it didn’t arrive with sirens and flashing lights or announce itself with, “Hello Hannah, you have officially broken yourself.” It crept in. First it was overwhelm that didn’t shift, then irritability, then that constant feeling that I was forgetting something. Like my brain had 47 tabs open and I couldn’t find the one making the noise. I was saying “sorry” a lot; I couldn’t focus without it feeling like lifting 50lbs with my mind. Small noises made me jump, and I’d drift off mid-conversation and realise I’d lost entire chunks of what someone was sayin
I wasn’t dramatic, I wasn’t melting down daily, I was functioning, but everything felt tight. Like I was permanently bracing. And because I was still technically working, I told myself I was fine. That’s the problem. Burnout doesn’t start with collapse; it starts with erosion — paper cuts over and over until you realise you’ve been bleeding for months.
What I haven’t said yet is that my biggest burnout wasn’t twenty-something Hannah trying to prove she could survive London life. It was much more recent, and it wasn’t just mental; it was physical. I wasn’t collapsing in tears or dramatically quitting everything; I was just never switching off. Ever.
On the days when I was stuck…brain foggy, slow, distracted…I’d tell myself I’d make it up later, and later would come in the form of ten-hour hyperfocus sessions, weekends, evenings, “just one more thing.” I was constantly playing catch-up with a version of myself I thought I should be. I didn’t allow space to just be because there was always something I should be doing.
Underneath that was shame — deep, old shame. Why can’t I just work like everyone else? Why does this feel harder for me? Why does it take so much effort to do what others seem to glide through?
But it wasn’t just about work. My “always on” wasn’t limited to clients and projects; I was the reliable one. The one people called when things went wrong, the listener, the fixer, the one who usually knew what to do. And I was always the one putting my hand up when something needed doing. Partly because I’m capable, partly because I care, and partly — if I’m being really honest — because if everyone needs you, then no one leaves you. I was used to being left, which is probably a blog for another day, or a therapist’s office, or both, but being indispensable felt safer than being optional, so I stayed available. Emotionally, mentally, practically. Even when I was already running on fumes. Being the strong one is exhausting, especially when no one realises you’re carrying it.
So I pushed, because I thought the answer was effort. Turns out the answer was pacing, and eventually something had to give. And because I had proven that my brain wasn’t capable of looking out for me, my body stepped in and said “enough already” and physically stopped me.
The lie about energy
I’ve said it before, but most business advice assumes your energy is stable. You wake up, you have X amount, so you use it wisely. And during the day, if you get a little rest, your energy increases again. For neurodivergent brains, that’s not reality.
Some days I can do a week’s worth of work whilst I’m still in my PJs. I’m on fire, with ideas flying, focus locked in, energy like a caffeinated golden retriever! Other days replying to one email feels like a university challenge, when you’re the only team member. Same life, same me, entirely different capacity.
That inconsistency used to terrify me because I mistook it for unreliability. But ND energy isn’t broken, it’s variable by design. We process more, monitor more, absorb more. Masking alone is an Olympic sport, and when you add sensory processing, decision fatigue, context switching, emotional labour, and background cognitive load, suddenly the reason you’re tired after “not much” becomes clearer. Time and energy are not the same thing; two hours on your calendar does not equal two usable hours in your brain.
The adrenaline trap
The thing that nearly finished me wasn’t laziness: it was pushing through even when all the alarm bells were ringing, but I had my fingers in my ears singing “la la la not listening”. And the frustrating part is that pushing through works — for a bit. Adrenaline is intoxicating, the sparkly new thing is delicious, urgency masquerades as capacity, and you believe you can sustain it. I could override my body for short bursts, smash through projects, hyperfocus until 2am and feel invincible. Such a natural high, ticking those things off the list and feeling like I was winning. But borrowing energy from tomorrow is fine until tomorrow arrives and the account is empty
The dangerous part was that I thought I was being responsible. I thought this was what commitment looked like, what professionalism looked like, what business grown-ups did. You got the job done, whatever that took. I could see that not everyone seemed to have to put in such a huge amount of effort, but instead of questioning my comparison, I just doubled down. A lifetime of subtle messaging that I needed to try harder, be quieter, be better, be less meant slowing down didn’t feel safe; it felt like failure.
So I kept overriding every signal until my nervous system stopped negotiating. Burnout isn’t sudden; it’s compound interest on overwhelm. I was living on an overdraft.
Why rest felt unsafe
Even when I knew I was tired, resting felt wrong. If my capacity is already unreliable, how can I afford to stop? If I pause, won’t I fall further behind.
Somewhere along the way, I’d internalised the idea that rest was a reward for finishing everything, but you never finish everything. Rest isn’t a reward; it’s maintenance, it’s preparation, it’s charging your phone before it dies instead of waiting until it’s at 1% and pretending you’ll be fine.
When you’ve lived your whole life feeling like you have to prove your capacity, rest feels like exposure. If I stop, someone might notice I’m not keeping up; if I slow down, it confirms the fear that I’m not built right. So I didn’t slow down, and that’s how burnout became physical . Not just tiredness, but inflammation, disrupted sleep, my body essentially saying, “You clearly aren’t listening to the gentle messages, so here’s a louder one.”
My burnout wasn’t dramatic; it was cumulative, and it cost me more time in recovery than pacing ever would have. Slowing down wasn’t a brave, enlightened decision; it was enforced. And if I’m honest, this slower, kinder version of me rocks. She definitely is a work in progress and needs to be dragged back in line from time to time. But now she generally just says yes to the things that bring her joy.
She doesn’t volunteer for everything, she doesn’t answer every message immediately, she doesn’t try to prove she can outwork her own nervous system. The old voice still whispers, You should be doing more. You’re falling behind. Everyone else is coping, but now my body answers back, and for once I listen.
The early warnings I ignored
Looking back, the signs were obvious — irritability, foggy thinking, snapping faster than usual, feeling like the anxiety hamster was permanently on a wheel, flinching at small noises, brownouts where you just disappear for a few minutes, and there’s no signal. But because I was still functioning, I ignored them. We’re not taught to see those as energy signals; we see them as personality flaws.
Now I have had to redefine what a better-balanced life looks like, and I’ve realised it doesn’t mean producing the same output every day. It’s responding honestly to what I can afford. Some weeks, I bounce between big output and recovery. And some days I’m on low power mode, running lights only. That isn’t failure, it’s pacing. Self-employment allows me to build around that variability rather than fight it. If I’d forced myself into a rigid mould, I would have burned out permanently.
What I know now
Energy isn’t a moral issue; it’s information. Irritability, fog, that constant feeling of being behind — those are data points.
When I ask myself, “What is my capacity feeling like today ?” instead of “What do I have to achieve?”, everything shifts. Honesty about capacity is what makes sustainability possible for me. Previously, I would bully myself into thinking I needed to keep pushing, even against my better judgment.
If you’re running on empty, it’s unlikely because you’re weak; it’s more likely you’ve been paying invisible costs for a long time. You’re not defective. You’re processing more than most people realise. The goal isn’t to squeeze more out of yourself; it’s to understand how your energy actually works and build around it.
Pushing through might buy you some time in the moment, but it can end up costing you much more, like your nervous system.
Is Self-Employment the Perfect Job for the Neurodivergent?
An idea occurred to me in August 2025, but to understand my point, I need to give you some prologue and a little bit* of my own history. Otherwise, the idea I will go on to share will seem like the ravings of a deranged loon. They may still be that, but at least you will have the context.
*OK, it’s not a “little bit”, it’s… a lot, it’s 2000+ words, but HANG ON. Don’t go… believe me, it’ll be worth it, promise. Or leave a comment on our podcast telling me why I am wrong!
I’ve been “odd” my entire life. What do I mean by “odd”? Out of step, not marching to the same tune as others. Space cadet one minute, expert troubleshooter the next. Described as a “left-field thinker” or “eccentric“, I’ll certainly be the most memorable conversation you have today. There are the suits. Yes, I do wear them. Yes. To business meetings. Yes. I do that.
There are the suits. Yes, I do wear them. Yes. To business meetings. Yes. I do that.
And that gives one a certain perspective on life and specifically business, and I have often struggled to understand how other people think. Why do they seem incapable of seeing the logic in the ideas I present? Sure, it may go against 99% of the rest of the world, but at least you tried something different and learned something new!
I play a lot of “what if” in my mind, and I can iterate quickly. “What if we did X instead of Y?“
“But Stuart, EVERYONE DOES Y, because... [Insert wide generalisation or assumption here].”
Often, “normal” people laugh at my ideas and tell me what I am doing has no chance of succeeding—right at the time I am succeeding at doing it. I don’t take unsolicited advice well and choose who I pay for advice VERY carefully. You’d be right to be skeptical of someone who says all this.
“Too full of himself by half, that one!” Not the first time I have heard that sentiment expressed. Yes, I am TOO MUCH… hmmm… we should do an episode about that sentiment…
But, being out of step and doing my own thing has worked VERY well for me, both personally and professionally. I have lived a very lucky life. I take none of it for granted. I understand the privileges I have had due to socio-economic factors (mostly out of my control) but have never really shied away from taking a risk. That’s what life in business is about, managing risk versus reward.
The Backstory to the Prologue
I notified HMRC and became officially “self-employed” for the first time in 1992. I’d purchased an old Transit van from a very good mate. It had a sliding driver’s door, which was fantastic. I think it was an ex-Post Office vehicle, but it was baby blue, so perhaps it was repainted? I kitted it out with a bench, vice and all my tools, and with that this mechanic was mobile. I even got me one of those newly available mobile phones, and still have the same number today!
Over the years, I have evolved what I do; teaching myself to design on Mac and PC, being my own IT department, managing print work and design projects that evolved into web development. I’ve also designed products, posters, gadgets, and novelty gizmos for sale in high streets around the world. I’ve delivered a waste and recycling project for a borough council and performed as an impersonator, lookalike, stand-up, and MC in some of the most well-known venues across the UK and beyond. Co-produced plays and other creative projects including starring as recurring character ‘Crazy Neil‘ in the computer game ‘Not For Broadcast’ by Tiny House Games.
Since that first leap of faith, I’ve never really looked back, apart from a brief stint at an engineering company that almost broke me. But I’ve been gainfully self-employed for over 32 years of my adult life. Raising a family, putting food on our table, and a roof over our heads as the sole income. We tried more conventional schooling, but after a couple of years made the decision to home educate our kids, we saw too much damage being inflicted on their peer group in schools across the country. There’s something sad about seeing a free-range child being shoehorned into a uniform and being sent into a soul-crushing, energy-sapping system that may work for the majority, but it doesn’t work for all.
Home educating our kids was instinctual, an reflex reaction to what I experienced at school: the hate, bullying, ostracising, othering, and mind games. School left me brutalised and raw, hurting in a way I didn’t know how to fix and I didn’t want that to be how they started out in life.
At 16 I left school and adulthood arrived, and of course with it, a job. However, it was more of the same “odd-one-out” in the workplace, ten years in engineering, and I was clinging to a mental precipice. Afraid to do anything different, editing myself, curating my outward facade, all the while moving through a molasses of what I now know is unprocessed trauma. Frozen, unable to move, frightened I’d fail. Then I’d fall…
I fell anyway.
Eventually, inevitably, something gave way, and I collapsed; literally, figuratively, spiritually. My entire being had cratered, collapsing inward, left exhausted in a way I had never experienced before. My brain refused to co-operate. Functioning and getting out of bed was not possible. I hit rock bottom and just lay there. The effort of will required to stand up was just too overwhelming on some days. How do I make my way in the world when I feel like I am at odds with it? An alien on this planet, I tried to leave, I thought of it as being sent for… I had no reason, no purpose. I was alone on an entire planet of six billion people.
The spiritual rift was not repaired quickly, and the scar tissue still tugs at you from time to time. The jagged, raw, and cutting thoughts tear through you like a scalpel into bare flesh. The irony is it’s wielded by someone who knows exactly where all the soft and fleshy parts are. Exactly which rocks to kick over, which door to fling wide and force you to confront your own existential dilemmas. Not great when you’re simply trying to post a letter. All of this, all of the time. Throw in insomnia, and now we’ve got a party.
Quite literally, because distracting yourself with booze, bongs, and babes helps distract you from the pain. Like anaesthesia for the soul. It numbs, but it also cauterises, cutting off vital bits of your personality. Unable to confront the truth and reality of it all, you dodge from one friend group to another. Masked up and mugging along to whatever in-crowd joke de-jour was popular (even if it went over your head). Avoiding actually making too many connections, being friendly but not too personable, not actually letting people in. Fearful they may see just how broken you are, that you’re a human reject, incapable of being “normal.” Just not how the wiring in your head works.
As my dad used to say, when he said something figuratively and I took it literally: “Don’t be stupid, son!“
But Dad, what if “stupid” is all you’ve got?
Now, replace “stupid” with “different”, and that’s what the neurodiverse deals with every day. The entirety of the planet set up against your skill-set, and you’re asked to just get on with it and stop complaining. Usually with some blithe comment like “You don’t look autistic“… Or the passively offensive “Why does everyone need a label these days?” and finally the one that will get you drop-kicked into the next galaxy: “We’re all on the spectrum.” NO. NO, WE ARE FUCKING NOT. Do not expect anything good to come out of these interactions.
Build Back Odder
Therapy and Prozac helped, but mostly doing nothing helped. I started to take things slower, make healthier choices; one day, one meal, one hour at a time. Progress was glacial, and at first, I crawled. Then I bum-shuffled and finally staggered to my feet, some days even managing to get dressed and go outside. I might even speak to another human! Ooof, steady, not too much too soon.
By this point, having a day-to-day job was just not functionally possible. The mobile mechanic business became burdensome, cars became a little more complex and investment in proprietary diagnostic tools meant an outlay I was not willing to make. So I sought employment and reluctantly found a local engineering job. This was the last job I ever had, and the straw that broke me, it stripped all the joy out of my love for engineering and life. I hated it. Engineering was not my first choice anyway, for I was destined to be an ACTOR! And that was it. Eventually I closed my toolbox and swore an oath that I HAD to step away from the tools. No half measures. I wouldn’t turn a wrench, fix a car, or get grease under my nails for 15+ years.
The break I needed was not the one I expected, but I would take anything at this point. The commision only sales “job” seemed a huge leap of faith: we got paid if we made sales and fired if we didn’t. I lived alone in a small flat, and my overheads were minimal so I leapt. It helped focus my day, plus they paid expenses for travelling around the country, standing in PC World and computer shops selling “The Internet” from the UK’s first ISP, NetcomUK.
That sales job taught me more about business in eight months than doing a full Oxbridge degree in sales. Leanring customer motivation, chatting to the public, and actually getting good at face to face selling. This “job” was very flexible, and as long as I gave them a week’s notice, my diary was my own, and I got to choose what days and hours I worked. It was perfect, it gave me a lot of time to (not) find acting work.
That’s when my love of computers ramped up, and taking a chance with a product, a story for another time. But this early start showed me that the thing I prized over anything was being in control of where and when I worked and what time I could give to a “job”. Budgeting became my thing; each meal was a consideration. Shopping late to bag mark-downs, coupons and 2 for 1s became a fun reason to go buy food.
Fast forward 32 years…
And finally, to my point… The BIG IDEA…
I’ve just been officially diagnosed as Autistic. After the best part of two years on the deepest of deep dives into Autism Spectrum Disorder, ASD, I’m comfortable with that diagnosis. That diagnosis makes sense and validates my entire life. I was not broken. I was not “one of one” I had people who were like me, who had similar experiences and could understand the challenges and everyday experiences.
Most of this I have learned through having a family too, seeing what my children needed and finiding it very similar to what works for me. Having a partner who genuinely cares for me and wants good outcomes and accomodates without judgement. She’s got her own tale to tell, one day I’m sure…
I am epically lucky. We live a decent life, not too flamboyant, definitely comfortable, and are both blessed with decent health and happy kids. The roll of the dice, the big “swing for the fences” decision I made to go it alone, worked out… mostly. Not all rolls of the dice went our way, but we won more than we lost.
Not all rolls of the dice went our way, but we won more than we lost.
So, the goddamn point, STUART?!
Yes, my point, thank you. Self-employment is a very viable choice for anyone who is neurodivergent. In fact, I believe that NDs are disproportionately represented in the business owner community. I know a LOT of business owners, and while not ALL will be ND, I can see traits in most of them, the ones out of step with the working world, who dare to be different and just do it!
The flexibility and choice in how you manage your workload, being able to manage your energy and plan around your own personal quirks and preferences, it’s the ultimate luxury. I wake early and enjoy the day before most people are out of bed. I can also be done with my tasks by midday. No hanging about looking very busy but wasting my life. I can be ACTUALLY busy focusing on my special interest or personal project of the moment. Helping my community, ensuring my businesses and employees thrive in a positive town, full of opportunities.
A lot of the work I do is actually using my skills and specialism learned as an engineer, applying the troubleshooting and problem-solving to a business context. (Don’t ask for a specific job title, listen to the podcast and figure it out! It’s complicated.)
I believe self-employment, if managed correctly and for the right person, is a better choice than working in an office, with all the associated travelling, small talk, harsh lighting, and sensory overload. My original “fall from grace” took me to my knees for about two years. It was complete burnout. Shutdown and reboot.
You don’t have to wait for that level of lifestyle disruption, but if you are ND and masking hard to get through 5 days, with 2 days of recovery before ploughing into it all yet again. There will be a reckoning for that at some point. As you age your energy reduces and Father Time rams a crowbar into the cracks and open up those fissures, wider than you can now jump across.
So how do you prevent this?
If I was doing it all again now? I would do it like this. Build yourself a little “war chest”, 6-8 months of living expenses. Start a side-hustle, maybe take on overtime or additional duties, or find some WFH part-time work, don’t burnout, it’s a marathon not a sprint. At the same time, get the household monthly bills down to the lowest you can, think surivial levels, monk mode V2.0.
Then figure out what it is you want to do, or thing you can offer and be rewarded financially for. Could be a service, focused on special interest, or monetise a hobby. Whatever it is be comfortable with the time you will need to devote to it. My preferred working week is 4 on business tasks, 3 ‘resting’, which could be hard landscaping the garden or feet up watching a film. It depends on the energy or ‘spoons’ I have available to give at the time.
Make it your purpose, the thing you do not mind getting up and doing. Base it on things you love doing. Then simply amplify your circle of influence. On and offline, once you have a great reputation locally the work will trickle in. Build this by going networking and make a wide range of contacts, share your passion. Offer more value than you ask for and be kind.
I can 100% recommend self-employment. “Your mileage may vary” but with the Business Oddcast, I can, at last, share some of the inner journey because I now have language, context, and lived experience. My official diagnosis is not for me, it’s for the rest of the world. I know who I am amd what I am capable of, I’ve spent over 50yrs working that out.
I’m hoping the Business Oddcast helps you, let us know if there’s any specific topics you want Hannah and I to cover, and join in with the conversation. We LOVE to hear diverse viewpoints, it helps us grow as humans, your voice matters, you matter.
If you suspect you may have some traits and I’ve raised a few thoughts in your own mind don’t leave looking into all this too late. I can attest that some of the damage is irreversible and the longer you leave it, the worse it gets and the harder it is to recover. It’s taken me a lot of time, and a long road to recovery and reconcilliation with myself, butas I write this I can say I am happy with my life and love solving problems.
Hi, I’m Stu. How can I help YOU today? Perhaps listening to our Business Oddcast Podcast might be a good place for you to start?