When Workplace Politics Trigger Deeper Wounds: A Late ADHD Diagnosis Story

Yesterday, I found myself furious about being excluded from a workplace conversation. A contractor decision affecting my team's capabilities was made without me - someone with 30 years of experience in this exact area. My colleague ghosted me when I tried to follow up.

My first reaction? They think I'm useless. They don't trust or respect me to solve it.

Sound familiar? If you're navigating life with a late ADHD diagnosis, you'll probably recognize this spiral. What starts as legitimate workplace frustration quickly becomes evidence of our fundamental inadequacy.

But here's what I've learned: sometimes the trigger reveals something much deeper.

The 10-Year-Old Who Never Came Home

As my anger settled into my head and neck, as my tinnitus cranked up to eleven, I realized this wasn't really about a missed meeting. This was about a 10-year-old boy who was sent to boarding school and never lived at home again.

At nearly 54, I'm finally connecting the dots. Being excluded doesn't just feel professional - it feels existential. Because somewhere in my nervous system, exclusion still means abandonment.

The ADHD diagnosis helped me understand the rejection sensitive dysphoria, the way my brain turns workplace politics into personal verdicts. But it's taken longer to see how those patterns were forged decades before I knew what ADHD was.

The Corporate Trap

For years, I've been trying to prove my worth to people I never chose, in systems that trigger my deepest wounds. Waiting for recognition, fighting for inclusion, explaining my value to colleagues who don't see it.

But yesterday, something shifted.

I realized I'm way more excited about the startup incubator application I just submitted than I am upset about any missed meeting. I'm more energized thinking about developing neurocoach.nz than I am frustrated by corporate politics and poor communication skills.

The Pivot

That 10-year-old learned to survive in systems that didn't choose him. But the 54-year-old is building something where I get to choose.

This isn't just career change - it's healing in action.

I've been holding back from fully pushing what I've built, afraid to make myself too visible in case I get rejected again. Classic ADHD perfectionism meets old survival strategies.

But here's the thing: I've already been rejected by systems that don't value neurodiversity expertise. And I didn't disappear. I got clearer about what I'm actually meant to be building.

The Shift

Instead of asking "Why wasn't I included?" I'm asking "What am I doing every day to get closer to my goal?"

Instead of waiting for others' tables to have room for me, I'm building my own.

The missed meeting isn't evidence that I don't belong anywhere. It's confirmation that I'm outgrowing environments that trigger my abandonment patterns.

For Anyone Else in the Middle of This

If you're reading this with your own late ADHD diagnosis, dealing with workplace dynamics that make you question your worth - I see you.

Your reaction to exclusion makes sense. Your sensitivity to rejection has roots. Your desire for belonging is human.

But your expertise, your lived experience, your hard-won insights - they have value beyond what any single workplace can recognize.

Sometimes the trigger isn't just about the present moment. Sometimes it's your past wounds colliding with current frustrations. And sometimes, it's exactly the clarity you need to stop waiting and start building.

The people who need what you understand about neurodiversity, about resilience, about navigating the world with a different brain - they're out there. They're not in that missed meeting.

They're waiting for you to stop hiding behind "it's not ready yet" and start sharing what you've learned.

What workplace trigger has revealed deeper patterns for you? How are you turning old wounds into new direction? I'd love to hear your story.

If you're interested in exploring neurodiversity coaching or want to follow my journey building something new, connect with me at neurocoach.nz or find me on LinkedIn.