How to lead someone like me: a guide for working with RSD and ADHD

I'm not fragile. I'm not difficult. But I do process the world differently and if you work with, manage, or care about someone like me (someone with Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, ADHD, or both), you'll need to understand that performance and presence are not the same thing.

This guide is for leaders, mentors, and teammates who want to build truly inclusive dynamics. Not just neurodiversity as a buzzword, but lived practice. This is how you lead someone like me, someone who feels everything, who notices too much, who spirals quietly, and still shows up ready to contribute meaningfully to the work that matters.

Understanding our internal landscape means recognizing that we're often managing multiple layers of processing simultaneously. We're tracking the explicit content of conversations while also monitoring tone, body language, and subtext. We're assessing not just what's being said, but what might be implied, what could go wrong, and how to navigate potential emotional landmines. This isn't paranoia= it's hypervigilance born from a lifetime of misreading social cues and facing unexpected rejection.

start with context, not control

Don't assume we're starting from the same baseline. If your feedback skips straight to improvement without naming what worked or what you intended, we'll spend more time decoding your tone than acting on your suggestion. Our brains are wired to scan for threats first, opportunities second.

Say what you were trying to achieve. Name what landed well. Share what could be stronger. The order matters because it creates a framework for understanding rather than a minefield of interpretation. When you lead with problems, we hear rejection. When you lead with context, we hear collaboration.

And when you ask for something new or different, tell us what changed in the situation, the priorities, or the requirements. Otherwise it sounds like inconsistency when it's actually evolution. RSD brains crave coherence, it helps us track safety and build trust in the relationship. We need to understand the why behind shifts in direction, not just the what.

Think of it this way: we're constantly calibrating our understanding of where we stand with you and how we're performing. Sudden changes without explanation trigger our threat-detection system, which can derail our ability to focus on the actual work.

precision is kindness

We're not asking clarifying questions because we don't understand the big picture. We're asking because you left gaps, and those gaps become anxiety spirals. Vague feedback feels like a trap, not guidance.

"Can you make this stronger?" is a landmine that will send us into analysis paralysis. "Can you move the impact statement to the first paragraph and link it directly to the data set we discussed?" is a relief that lets us channel our energy into execution rather than interpretation.

Avoid character-based language, words like thorough, thoughtful, or strategic. These feel like judgments about who we are rather than guidance about what to do. Talk about specific behaviors, concrete structures, and measurable outcomes. That's what we can work with, improve upon, and feel confident delivering.

When you're specific, you're giving us a roadmap. When you're vague, you're giving us a maze. We'll navigate the maze if we have to, but we'll do our best work when we have clear direction.

feedback is data, not a threat

If you want us to hear feedback constructively, don't couch it in ten compliments or drop it casually in passing. Both approaches trigger our hypervigilance. Be clear, be warm, and assume we're already braced for rejection. because we probably are.

Try these approaches:

• "This worked well because [specific reason]. Here's one thing I'd adjust next time: [specific action]."

• "You're not in trouble, and this isn't about your capabilities. I just want to make this clearer for the audience."

• "This change is about alignment with the new requirements, not about you getting something wrong the first time."

Say the quiet thing out loud. If you're thinking "this is minor" or "don't take this personally," actually say those words. What feels obvious to you might not be obvious to someone whose brain is constantly scanning for rejection signals.

Remember that for us, feedback often feels like an assessment of our worth, not just our work. Help us separate the two by being explicit about the distinction.

regulate before you evaluate

We need time to integrate feedback - especially if it touches on identity, impact, or areas where we've historically struggled. Give us space to process without pressure for an immediate response. Let the message land before asking for our thoughts or next steps.

Watch for signs we're emotionally flooded: sudden silence, excessive apologizing, perfectionist questions about minor details, or requests to revisit decisions we've already made together. That's not resistance or lack of engagement. That's a nervous system running hot, trying to recalibrate.

Sometimes "I'll think about that and get back to you tomorrow" is our best regulated response, even if it feels incomplete to you. Trust it. Trust that we're taking the feedback seriously enough to process it thoughtfully rather than reactively.

Creating space for processing doesn't mean avoiding accountability - it means giving us the best chance to respond thoughtfully and implement changes effectively.

don't mistake sensitivity for volatility

We're not explosive or unpredictable. We're responsive. That means we notice shifts in tone, energy, and group dynamics before others do. When something feels off in a meeting or conversation, we register the change before we understand what caused it.

If we ask "Was that okay?" or "Did that come across the way I intended?" - we're not fishing for compliments or seeking excessive reassurance. We're calibrating. We picked up on something subtle and we're trying to understand whether it was real or whether our sensitivity is creating false signals.

And when we care enough to calibrate, that's actually a gift to the team dynamic, not a weakness or neediness. We're often the canaries in the coal mine for interpersonal issues, team tensions, or communication breakdowns that others might miss until they become bigger problems.

Our sensitivity to emotional undercurrents can be an asset if you know how to work with it rather than around it.

collaborate with us - we're smart

We might second-guess the tone of an email before sending it, but don't mistake that careful consideration for indecision or lack of confidence. We often hold multiple perspectives simultaneously, seeing various angles and potential outcomes that others might miss.

We see the emotional landscape that exists beneath the surface of team dynamics. We're natural pattern-matchers and bridge-builders, often noticing connections and implications that aren't immediately obvious. We can sense when someone is struggling, when a project is heading toward conflict, or when a message might be misinterpreted.

Invite us into strategic conversations early in the process, not just when you need someone to polish the final edges. Ask what we're noticing, what feels misaligned, what we would shift or approach differently. We'll probably identify potential issues before they become actual problems, and we'll often have insights about stakeholder reactions, team dynamics, or communication strategies that can strengthen the overall approach.

Give us clarity and psychological safety, and we'll give you strategy, nuance, emotional intelligence, and deep insight into the human elements of your work.

use AI as a co-regulation tool

If we mention using AI to check tone, draft sensitive messages, or work through complex communication challenges, understand that this isn't avoidance or lack of capability. It's sophisticated self-regulation. It's how we slow down the anxiety spiral, get unstuck from perfectionism, and move toward clarity without flooding our nervous system.

AI serves as a buffer between emotional overwhelm and productive action. It helps us externalise our internal dialogue, organize our thoughts, and approach challenging communications with more confidence and less self-doubt.

This tool helps us stay engaged in meaningful work without sacrificing our wellbeing to constant second-guessing and rumination. It's a sign of self-awareness and emotional intelligence, not dependence.

slow down just enough

To lead someone like me is to slow down just enough to see what's happening beneath the surface. It's not about hand-holding or making accommodations that compromise standards. It's about holding space - for complexity, for careful processing, and for different ways of engaging with work and relationships.

We don't need you to fix us or manage our neurodivergence for us. We need you to respect our rhythms and create environments where our strengths can flourish. In return, we'll bring insight, pattern-recognition, emotional acuity, fierce loyalty, and a depth of engagement that strengthens everything we touch together.

Meet us where we are, make clarity the norm rather than the exception, and you'll discover that leading neurodivergent team members isn't just good leadership, it's an investment in the kind of thoughtful, emotionally intelligent culture that benefits everyone.