I Don’t Have a ‘Real Job’—And That’s the Point
Why neurodivergent brains feel boxed in by traditional careers—and how redefining success can set you free.
Let’s Get This Out of the Way
I don’t have a “real” job. At least not in the traditional sense—or what someone means when they ask, “So, what do you do?” What I’ve finally figured out is that it’s not just okay to break from the norm—it’s necessary. We spend more waking hours at work than with the people we love, so if I’m giving over half my time to a job, it damn well better fit: my values, my interests, and my energy. My brain isn’t neurotypical, and honestly, my job shouldn’t be designed for someone who is either. I need variety. I need connection. I need a flexible schedule that lets me strike when my energy is high and problems that light up my brain.
This post is for every brilliant, burnt-out, boxed-in brain who’s ever felt like they didn’t fit the traditional career path—and thought they were the problem.
The Myth of the “Real” Job
“Dear brain, I know you’re doing your best with a system that makes no damn sense.”
The traditional “successful” career is usually framed as a 9–5, five-days-a-week, in-office job with a steady salary, benefits, vacation days, and a predictable path for promotion. For a long time, that was all that really existed—and for some, it still works. But thanks to the rise of the internet, freelancing, remote work, and a deeper understanding of how different brains function, more non-traditional opportunities have emerged.
Yes, the benefits and PTO can be great. But even those don’t make up for the many ways traditional workplaces can be deeply challenging for neurodivergent brains.
If you’re not neurodivergent, you might wonder, “What’s so hard about a regular job?” or even say, “That’s just how work is—get used to it.” (Trust me, I’ve heard both.) But here’s the reality:
One of the biggest challenges for neurodivergent folks—especially those with ADHD—is the rigid structure of traditional work environments. Our energy and focus fluctuate throughout the day. There are peak times when our brains are firing on all cylinders and we can tackle complex, creative, or strategic tasks with brilliance. But other times? We need low-effort, low-stimulation work.
Flexible schedules and remote setups allow people with ADHD to align their tasks with their natural rhythms. That means using high-energy windows for demanding work, and saving things like data entry or emails for slower stretches. It's not about avoiding work—it’s about working smarter, in a way that’s actually sustainable.
Another common obstacle? The physical work environment itself. Open office plans, cubicles, forced “no closed doors” policies (yes, I had a boss like this—no privacy, ever), and constant interruptions can make it nearly impossible to focus. As someone who’s easily distracted, that kind of environment didn’t just slow me down—it made me feel like I was losing my mind. I was staying two hours late every night just to get my actual work done (and no, there was no overtime).
When you work remotely or have accommodations, you can create a space that works for your brain. Personally, I need different setups depending on my task or mood. Sometimes, I need total quiet for detailed work. Other times, music fuels my creativity. And weirdly enough, working at my kitchen table while my husband is nearby doing his thing? Helps me focus. I might need all three in a single day—and I finally have the freedom to choose what works.
Sensory overload is another overlooked barrier. For neurodivergent folks with sensory sensitivities, things like fluorescent lighting, scratchy office chairs, or the horror of someone reheating fish in the break room (why do they always do that?) can push our nervous systems into survival mode. Again, alternative schedules or remote setups can be a literal lifesaver.
Of course, there are plenty of other challenges in traditional workplaces: communication expectations, forced socializing, awkward networking events. But one of the most consistent struggles I see in my coaching clients is burnout—specifically the kind that comes from masking.
Masking is when we hide traits associated with ADHD, autism, anxiety, or other neurodivergent patterns to blend into a neurotypical workplace. We try not to be “too much,” “too scattered,” “too intense.” We stay quiet. We try to seem perfectly put together. But you can only suppress your authentic self for so long before it starts to break you.
When clients come to me burnt out, one of the first things we do is identify what’s not working—and then dream up what would. No rules, no limitations. What would your ideal work environment look like? What would make your brain feel safe, supported, and actually excited to do work?
Once we get clear on that, we reverse-engineer how to make it happen—either by finding or designing a non-traditional job that matches their needs. Because work shouldn’t require you to become someone you’re not just to survive the day.
Redefining Success (On Your Terms)
So… what does success actually look like if you throw out the traditional rulebook?
That’s the part most of us were never taught. Success has always been sold to us as a job title, a salary, a promotion, or a pension. But what if your version of success has nothing to do with any of that?
When I work with clients—especially those who are neurodivergent—we start by untangling all the inherited beliefs about what a “real” job or “successful” career is supposed to look like. And then we ask:
What actually matters to you?
What energizes you?
What kind of environment helps you thrive—not just survive?
How do you want to feel on a Monday morning?
Maybe your version of success is taking mid-morning walks with your dog. Or starting work at 1 p.m. because that’s when your brain kicks in. Maybe it’s running your own business, or working part-time, or having three different freelance gigs that keep your brain buzzing. Maybe it’s just not crying on your lunch break anymore.
Whatever it is—it’s valid. You don’t need to justify it. You just need to own it.
When we let go of someone else’s definition of success, we get to build one that fits our brain, our values, and our life. And from that place, things start to shift. You stop chasing roles that drain you. You stop apologizing for needing breaks. You start showing up as your whole self—and that’s where the real magic begins.
Coaching Isn’t Therapy—But It’s Still Magic
Let’s be clear: coaching isn’t therapy. I’m not here to dig into your childhood or diagnose your patterns. Therapy is about healing the past. Coaching is about creating the future.
Coaching is where strategy meets self-trust. It’s where we take all the messy, beautiful, brilliant parts of you and build a life and career that actually fits. It’s goal-setting with a nervous system in mind. It’s planning with your energy, your values, and your reality at the center.
It’s a space where you don’t have to mask. You don’t have to explain. You just get to be—loud, quiet, scattered, brilliant—and move forward anyway.
I’ve coached people through career pivots, resume rewrites, side hustles, total burnout, confidence crashes, and everything in between. We don’t just talk about goals—we build the systems, structure, and support to get there (without losing your mind in the process).
Because when someone finally gives you permission to work with your brain instead of against it? That’s where the magic happens.
