PDA in Business: A User’s Guide to Autonomy
There is a very specific way to make me not want to do something.
Tell me I have to. That’s it. That’s the kryptonite!
It doesn’t matter whether it was already on my to-do list. It doesn’t matter if it was my idea. It doesn’t even matter if it’s something I genuinely want to do. The moment it starts feeling compulsory, some deeply stubborn part of my brain folds its arms, narrows its eyes and mutters “NOPE”.
I’ve had entire conversations with myself that go something like this:
“Right, today we’re finally going to finish that blog.”
“No, we’re not.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“We just aren’t.”
“But it was literally our idea.”
“Still no.”
At this point, I’m essentially arguing with myself like both parts of me are not, in fact, on the same team! If this sounds familiar, then welcome. Pull up a chair. This one’s for you.
Instead, I found myself in a bizarre stand-off with perfectly reasonable activities. The strange thing is that the task itself often wasn’t the problem. In fact, I was frequently interested in the task. I’d chosen it. Planned it. Sometimes I’d even been excited about it. Then I’d write it on a list. And suddenly it felt completely different.
The day my to-do list became my enemy
For years, I thought there was something wrong with me. Surely if I wanted to do something, I should just be able to do it? It seemed logical enough. If I needed to send an email, send the email. If I wanted to write a blog, write the blog. If there was a task on my to-do list, complete the task and move on with my life like a sensible adult. (although, I have always felt that ‘sensible’ was overrated. But I digress)
The blog that had seemed exciting now felt oppressive. The email that would take three minutes somehow became a major life event. The phone call I’d intended to make all week was a weighted chain around my neck. It’s a weird experience trying to explain to people, particularly when the person creating the pressure is also you.
I once spent three hours avoiding a task that would have taken ten minutes. During those three hours, I managed to reorganise my desktop, research something completely unrelated, make two cups of tea, and stare out of the window. The original task remained exactly where I’d left it. Waiting patiently…mocking me with its judgy face.
The problem with “should”
I’ve come to realise that one of the most dangerous words in my vocabulary is “should”. I should post more consistently. I should be further ahead. I should have finished this by now. I should really sort that out.
The funny thing is that “should” sounds incredibly responsible. Like the sort of word used by people who always know where their car keys are and have a bottle of water on them at all times.
But for me, “should” always comes with some creepy companions. Like guilt, pressure, unrealistic expectations and a small suitcase full of shame. Before I know it, a perfectly manageable task has transformed into a judgement on my entire character.
And then the resistance arrives. The more pressure I apply, the more resistance I create. The more resistance I create, the more guilty I feel. Which makes me apply more pressure. It’s an impressively terrible system.
Why self-employment felt like freedom
One of the reasons self-employment suited me so well was the autonomy. No manager. No clocking in. No annual appraisal where someone asks where I see myself in five years’ time. (Surviving. Ideally in stretchy trousers.)
For many neurodivergent people, self-employment can be genuinely life-changing. It gives us the freedom to work around our energy, our focus and our lives, rather than trying to squeeze ourselves into systems that were never really designed for us in the first place.
The autonomy is glorious. There is, however, one slight complication.
Whilst we’ve escaped other people telling us what to do, we’re now responsible for setting our own deadlines, creating our own structure and deciding what happens next. And if your brain is demand-sensitive, it turns out it doesn’t particularly care who created the demand.
The number of productivity systems I’ve lovingly created and then immediately rebelled against is frankly embarrassing. I’ve colour-coded calendars. Built project plans. Created beautifully organised task lists. Then looked at them the next day and thought, “Hell no.”
It’s a very strange experience setting your own rules and then immediately looking for loopholes.
Negotiating with yourself
At some point I realised that I spend a surprising amount of time negotiating with myself. Not motivating myself. Not inspiring myself. Negotiating.
“What if we just do ten minutes?”
“You don’t have to finish it.”
“Let’s just open the document.”
“Would a biscuit help?” (FYI – they ALWAYS help)
The thing is, choice changes everything. There is a huge difference between telling myself “You have to finish this today” and “It would be useful to make some progress on this today.” The task hasn’t changed. The outcome hasn’t changed. But the emotional response is completely different. One feels like being backed into a corner. The other feels like an invitation.
Over time, I’ve realised that my nervous system cares far less about the task than it does about how trapped it feels. The more choice I have, the easier things become. Which is deeply inconvenient for all the productivity gurus trying to convince me that discipline is the answer to everything.
Why motivation was never the answer
For years I bought into the lie that I needed more motivation. More discipline. More grit. What even is grit!?! The internet certainly seemed convinced that was the solution. If you couldn’t do the thing, you simply needed to try harder. Push harder. Want it more. Whatever the latest advice happened to be.
The trouble is that pressure can absolutely produce results. For a while. Many of us become experts in last-minute heroics. We pull things together at the final hour. We work ridiculous hours. We create miracles under pressure and then wonder why we’re exhausted afterwards.
For years I thought this meant I worked well under pressure. I don’t. I work well under urgency. There’s a difference. One feels energising. The other feels like being chased by an angry badger. Or rather, what I imagine that would feel like. I’ve not actually lived that badger experience, thank god.
Eventually, constantly relying on urgency becomes exhausting. It’s like powering your business with emergency generators. It works, but it’s noisy, stressful and not particularly sustainable.
Curiosity works better than self-bullying
One of the biggest shifts for me has been replacing judgement with curiosity. Instead of asking, “Why can’t I just do the thing?” I’ve started asking, “What is making this feel difficult?” The answers are often surprisingly useful. Sometimes the task is too big. Sometimes I’m overwhelmed. Sometimes I’m exhausted. Sometimes I’ve accidentally convinced myself that a perfectly ordinary piece of work will determine the entire course of my future.
Sometimes the resistance is trying to tell me that I’ve taken on too much. Sometimes it’s warning me that I’m running on empty. And sometimes it’s simply because I’ve turned a minor admin task into a dramatic theatrical production inside my own head.
The point is that resistance usually contains information. Not always accurate information, admittedly. But information nonetheless. And understanding what’s underneath the resistance is almost always more helpful than shouting at myself for having it.
Autonomy isn’t a luxury
I think this is the bit that often gets missed. For some people, autonomy is a nice bonus. For others, it’s regulation. It’s the difference between feeling trapped and feeling capable. The difference between pressure and choice. The difference between fighting your nervous system and working alongside it.
Which is why so many neurodivergent people thrive when they can build flexibility into their lives and businesses. Flexible schedules. Choice-based planning. Working with their energy instead of constantly battling against it. Designing systems that support them rather than punish them.
Not because they’re lazy. Not because they lack discipline. But because autonomy changes how the whole system responds. Once you understand that, a lot of things suddenly start making sense.
One more time for those at the back…
For a long time, I thought the answer was becoming stricter with myself. More disciplined. More productive. More organised. Because I was the one to blame… I was letting the side down.
What I’ve slowly realised is that my nervous system was never asking for more pressure. It was asking for more autonomy.
The goal isn’t becoming somebody who never experiences resistance. The goal is building a life where you’re not constantly having to fight yourself.
Because if your brain experiences pressure as threat, then pushing harder isn’t always the solution. Sometimes the solution is creating enough choice, flexibility and autonomy that moving forwards feels safe again.
That’s why self-employment works so well for so many neurodivergent people. Not because we’re incapable of working hard, but because we’re finally able to build environments that work with our brains instead of constantly fighting against them.
And that’s a much better use of your energy than spending your life arguing with your own to-do list.