A Day In the Life of a Neurodivergent Therapist

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The day begins with three different alarms, all of which get snoozed.

The instant stream of thoughts that seem to lie in wait for me while I sleep – ready to pounce as soon as my eyes open. What day is it? What’s in the diary? Did I send that email? Is there enough time? Did I remember everything? What’s that song in my head?

Getting ready whilst continuing to run through the day in my head – pause to check my phone calendar at least 4 times to ensure I’m remembering the right day.

Getting changed – there are competing priorities: sensory comfort, professionalism, practicality, weather, temperature (*checks met office app) , and whether my body will suddenly decide it can no longer tolerate a particular fabric halfway through the day. More often than not, I head downstairs with backup clothing options and a clear plan to change into something comfortable the second I’m finished peopling.

Returning to tried and tested routines to ensure my family get where they need to be on time.Morning routines are tried and tested because they need to be. Systems are in place. Things are left ready the night before. Until, of course, something isn’t where I left it and a brief panic ensues. Then comes the school run and the drive back, usually with music on and me singing along. It feels like a transition space between home and work, a way of waking up my brain and settling into the day.

And this is all before I’ve started work!

As a therapist, things continue in a similar fashion…

Checking calendars many times in the day. Writing (and re writing) emails to make sure people who are enquiring for our services aren’t left with unanswered questions and if we can’t help them I make sure I signpost to somewhere else.

Several tangents later, I’ve somehow found myself on multiple websites because one useful link led to another and now I’m deeply invested in resources I didn’t know existed twenty minutes ago.

Everything else moves into the background. I can fully focus on the person in front of me. With neurodivergent clients, in particular, I feel at home. I hope they experience something similar with me: a sense that they don’t need to explain every part of themselves or work so hard to be understood.

Moving through more sessions of the day, loving the connection with others, the sense of privilege in working with so many wonderful people and offering some help, and hope.

Between sessions there are quick pitstops. A drink. A parcel arriving at the door. An email or two. A note I’ve remembered I need to write down before it fades from my memory again (will I choose a post it, a random back of the receipt note, a note on my phone – they all have the potential to disappear!)

Then perhaps some training preparation, some writing, or planning a new project (another book perhaps?!!). This is often where hyperfocus appears.

Suddenly I’ve disappeared into an idea. Time no longer exists. Hunger, thirst, and the need for the toilet become vague concepts. The outside world fades away while my brain enthusiastically follows every connection and possibility. “Hang on, this feels familiar – where have I heard this before?” Ah. Because apparently I already wrote an article about this exact thing two months ago and forgot it existed. So now I’m taking two pieces on the same subject and weaving them into one.

Then the afternoon school run, followed by more emails, checking in on how the other counsellors are doing, Maybe I let out sigh as I see a reminder email about a CPD I signed up to months ago that I still haven’t got round to! And in between all this, the attention magnet that is social media – I’m pulled into all the great conversations that other therapists are having online, which is really just giving me ideas on new books to read, new CPD to sign up to, new projects for me to start! Then making sure I put something out of my own, something that’s rewritten many times to make sure it’s just right for an unspecified, possibly unsuspecting, audience online. Pressing ‘post’ – hoping for validation, bracing for rejection.

And this blog article? Written on a whim on a lunch break. With 11 tabs open on my desktop (I just counted) and having told myself I’ll look at my invoices. Apparently, the prospect of doing my invoices was all the motivation I needed to write an entire blog article in fifteen minutes instead…

From the outside I think I look like an organised therapist who has her sh*t together (don’t be fooled!). A business owner. Someone with a social media presence. Someone who wrote a book.

They don’t see the multiple alarms, the repeated calendar checks, the open tabs, the rewritten emails, the clothes negotiations, the forgotten drinks, the messy house, the avoided tasks, and the hundreds of invisible adjustments that make all of that possible.

They don’t see the scaffolding.

And for neurodivergent people, this is so common. We often become experts at building systems that help us function in a world that doesn’t always fit us. But sometimes the scaffolding wobbles or becomes overloaded.

Sometimes the systems fail. The routines are disrupted. The things we’ve carefully put in place stop holding everything together.

And when that happens, people may only see the struggle (the anxiety, the burnout, the illness), not the enormous amount of effort that went into making it look effortless in the first place.

Disclaimer: This is one neurodivergent therapist’s day. Yours might look completely different. You might have one alarm instead of three. You might never hyperfocus, or you might forget lunch every single day. The details differ, but the constant adapting, juggling, recovering, and trying to make our brains and the world meet in the middle may feel familiar.

Amy sitting and reading her new book

Neurodivergent Affirming Therapy: Rethinking Approaches for Autistic & ADHD Clients

This book invites therapists, coaches and counsellors to rethink how we work with Autistic and ADHD clients – through an affirming, compassionate, and socially conscious lens.

Blending lived experience with therapeutic insight, Amy shares original frameworks like:

  • The DIVERSE Model – seven guiding principles for neurodivergent-affirming therapy

  • The Neurodivergence Trauma Cycle – understanding systemic and internalised harm

  • The SCENE Approach – a practical tool to guide in-session support

Challenging the traditional, often pathologising view of neurodivergence, this book offers practical tools, client insights, reflective prompts, and thoughtful guidance for making your practice safer, more accessible, and more validating.

✨ Available on Amazon: https://amzn.to/4cEAb2M

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