Thank you.

Henry. Thank you for having me and well done in the conference so far.

No. Well, thank you. Like, only only this and one more segment to go and success for another year, I hope so. But I honestly like I've enjoyed it so much. I can I get to listen to you and to others? I've learned an enormous amount and it's honestly it's genuinely it's a privilege and I'm very excited for your time. Look, a huge percentage of people with autism have ADHD despite it not being something that could even be diagnosed. You weren't allowed to have autism and ADHD. Were allowed to have autism or ADHD, but not both until not that long ago. And it is a big difference, a big group of people and what I found oftentimes is where you see that suggestions and ways of understanding.

Are either entirely for autistic people or entirely for ADHD people and ADHD autistic people and understanding helping get understanding of the tools and information just isn't there. So I'm so thrilled you're doing this actually. So thank you. I'm gonna hand over to you. Time for me to stop talking and to hand over to you. Thank you. Yeah.

Great. Thanks, Henry. So while Henry is just sharing the slides there, he's given me a lovely introduction, but I would just say a little bit more about myself. There we go. Got the slides. So I am Lisa Kerr. I am an ADHD coach, and I'm ADHD and autistic myself as well. So today, I am going to talk to you about what it's like to be autistic and ADHD. So what's coming up today? I am going to share with you two stories. My lived experience with autism and ADHD. And then after the stories, I'll I'll share some tools and strategies that I use myself and with my coaching clients.

There are some free resources that you can access by scanning the QR code that I've put on every slide. So it's the same QR code throughout because I hate it when you're scrambling around trying to take photos of things. So I've put it on every page That will take you to a page of my website where you can access some of the free downloads and resource links. So story one, the fight. In the red corner, the undefeated champion standing tall, supremely confident, ready to get out there again and knock them down. And in the blue corner, the challenger, shoulders stooped, looking anxious, a little out of place. It doesn't sound like it's going to be a fair fight, does it? Would you pay to watch this entertainment?

But I'm not talking about a boxing match. I'd like to introduce you to the inside of my mind. I'm autistic and ADHD or ADHD. Two conditions with many overlapping traits, but also complete opposites in so many ways. Both come with stigma, stereotypes, misunderstanding. By sharing my experience, what it's like to be me, I'm hoping you'll understand ADHD a little more. And this is only my experience because we're all different. So I can't speak for all autistics, all ADHD is in the same way that you shouldn't assume that because you've met one neurodivergent person, you know what we're all like. Let me tell you a little more about these. Autism is associated with the left side of the brain. The analytical side, rational, logical, controlling.

Often depicted as the black and white side of the brain. Things have to be fair. Rules have to be followed. Change is a scary thing. I have to be in control. Recently at a networking event, someone introduced me as this is Lisa. She's very talented. Sounds good. When I inquired what he meant by talented, he said that I'm creative and knowledgeable, but don't show any emotion. And this is a common misconception that autistic people have no empathy. But you couldn't be further from the truth. There are different types of empathy. Emotional empathy, feeling your emotions, taking them on as if they were my own, wanting to make things better for you. I have buckets full of this empathy. Cognitive empathy, recognizing and understanding.

What you're experiencing. That's a different thing entirely. Autistics can struggle to accurately recognize emotions. Eye contact can be difficult. So we're likely to look at the periphery of your face, not the eyes and mouth. And that's where emotions show up. So while I feel all the emotions very deeply, rational pragmatic me wants to fix the problem. And what comes out of my mouth in the moment might sound blunt and uncaring. And what about if ADHD brain gets involved too? I've thought of 75 different ways I can help you and it's all bursting to get out. I need to do something right now. I'll give you a big hug. Oh, I've still got the boxing gloves on. That was the right hook. I've got it wrong again. The fight goes on.

What about my own facial expressions? Autistic brain is working overtime, analyzing everything that's going on around me, trying to document the unwritten rules and create clarity from confusion. So it's far too busy to worry about what my face is doing. My facial expressions don't always align with societal expectations of the emotion I'm feeling. In a previous role, my boss told me that I looked condescending in meetings with them because that's how they interpreted my facial expressions. I was absolutely flawed. That wasn't how I was feeling at all. I'm a visual thinker and process information by looking up to my left or appearing to look over your shoulder if we're in conversation.

And I now realize that I furrow my brows and narrow my lips when I'm concentrating, which I guess came across as condescending. Lockdown happened and we all moved to Zoom working. So I could see myself on screen the whole time. I could see the faces I was pulling. I was so conscious of it that I started to hold a facial expression of a slight smile. My attempt at looking interested and engaged. I held this unnatural expression for meeting after meeting, week after week, month after month, so long that I caused a twitch above my eye. I caused myself physical harm trying to hold my face in a way that wouldn't cause offense to others. The fight goes on. In her book, autism in heels.

Jennifer O'Toole, who you might recognize as the dating adviser on Love on the Spectrum says, what's it like to be us? Too much. What do you do when the trouble isn't one thing that you do, it's everything that you are. So much of the internal experience of autism is invisible to outsiders. No one else can see the struggle. I'm wearing a sunflower lanyard. Do you know what this means? Maybe type yes or no in the chats. I've been asked if I'm a member of the Green Party or if it's something I made myself. This is a hidden disability sunflower lanyard. The sunflower scheme was set up at London Gatwick Airport in 2016 and has grown since then to be a globally recognized symbol of a less visible disability.

The sunflower design was chosen deliberately because it's bright and colorful so it should be easy to spot. It's designed so people can let you know that they might be experiencing the world differently from you, might need some support without needing to shout it from the rooftops. Because the times we most need support are often the times we least able to ask for it. So I am shouting it from the rooftops because I want to make sure everyone recognizes and understands the sunflower lanyard. Or it could be a bracelet, a key ring, a badge. Please look out for hidden disability sunflowers. You might be surprised how many you spot when you're looking. Back to Jennifer. I pull the rug right out from under myself when everybody is looking.

Just trust that I didn't mean to make anyone fall. My version of normal does not look the same as most people's. This really resonates with me. My deepest belief has always been that I'm not good enough. My black and white view of the world has defined the way I ought to be. I've spent my life trying to fit in, trying to be normal, act the right way, say the right things. I'm too much. I overcompensate. I'm too intense in relationships, both work and personal. I need to feel needed. I do too much. And this results in people pushing me away through caring too much. The fight goes on. ADHD is associated with the right side of the brain, the creative side, often depicted in a rainbow of colors. Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.

Another misnomer. It's not a deficit of attention. It's a deficit in the ability to regulate my attention. Something has all my attention. I was a due diligence director attention to detail an absolute must. So much attention I forget to drink water, eat, or even blink. Or my attention is all over the place. Now what was I saying? The fight goes on. And when you say hyperactive, people think of small boys unable to sit still in the classroom, but I barely move. I'm like a sloth. It's my mind that's hyperactive. I'm endlessly curious, a love of learning. Autism, because I have to know exactly how everything works to feel in control. ADHD, because each new thing becomes a hyperfocus, a fascinating new idea to explore.

New possibilities and I want to try them all right now. Well, maybe not right now because autistic brain needs to know exactly how they'd work and carry out a full risk assessment before I start. The fight goes on. People pleasing can be a big thing for all DHDs too. We love to feel needed. If someone asks for our help, that gives us a dopamine rush and we're quick to say yes. Time perception and prioritization can be more of an issue. Is this the top priority for me to be working on right now? They asked for my help so it must be important to them which makes it important to me which makes it my top priority. What about the other priorities I was working on?

They've just faded into the background as my attention has been grabbed by this new endeavor. And it's okay because it will only take a few minutes to complete this new task. The sense of urgency created by the request spills over to my perception of how long I'll need to action it. I'm so busy putting my underpants on the outside to play the superhero that I forget to consider my actual capabilities and capacity. I'll find time to help anyone who asks for my help leading to an ever growing to do list and sense of overwhelm. I work harder and harder, longer and longer, trying to deliver all of the things to all of the people because rejection sensitivity means I'm terrified of letting anyone down and them thinking badly of me. Inevitably.

Something has to give and it's usually my well-being. Burnout hits like an uppercut. I don't see it coming and suddenly find myself flat on my back in the ring. I'm out for the count. The fight goes on. I used to think that everyone's brain work the same way as mine does, that that everyone experiences the world the same way I do because there's no benchmark. I wear glasses. You might have noticed. But how did I know I needed them? I learned to drive at 17. And part of the test was to read a number plate at a certain distance. While I could read it, it was a little blurred. So I went for an eye test and found that I needed glasses. The optician's chart was the benchmark. We don't have that benchmark for what goes on inside our minds.

So I used to think that everyone's brain work the same way as mine does. But now I know that's not true. I was only diagnosed with ADHD and autism in my forties. And after the grief cycle that so many of us go through, I'm now learning to live with my neurodivergence. Learning to manage the challenges and appreciate the strengths. Albert Einstein allegedly said, everybody is a genius, but if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid. What's the genius within that I can call on? I'm ADHD and autistic. I'm creative and methodical. I'm fiercely loyal and resilient. I'm great in a crisis, a problem solver and pragmatic. I have awesome attention to detail and endless curiosity.

Harvey Bloom, an American journalist and advocate says, neurodiversity may be every bit as crucial for the human race as biodiversity is for life in general. Who can say what form of wiring will be best at any given moment? I love this quote. I've decided to call time on the fight. Take off those boxing gloves and appreciate my autistic ADHD brain for what it is. Let the two sides learn to work together. Take the rainbow and straighten it just a little. Take the black and white and create shades of grey. I've decided to stop worrying so much about what people think of me, stop judging myself and start doing things that I can be proud of, things I believe in. Start believing in me.

So while my autistic brain still struggles with the fact the boxing ring is square, in the red corner, I've started professional speaking about neurodiversity neurodiversity so I can help other people to understand, accept and value neurodivergence. In the blue corner, I've trained as an ADHD and autism coach. In the yellow corner, I've started painting by numbers. And in the green corner, I've joined a samba drumming band because ADHD brain is never going to be happy with just red and blue. I'm always going to create a rainbow. Story two, the piano. Don't die with your music still in you, doctor Wayne Dyer. I grew up in the middle of nowhere.

A cluster of three dwellings, a cottage, a house and a farm on a country lane and nothing else for miles. Our neighbors were pensioners. Not obvious playmates for a nine year old girl, but they were all I had. And they had a dog, a mongrel named Butch, who was my only friend. So I made every excuse possible to head to their farm to see him. A low gray stone building with a blue front door leading directly into the living room. To the left, a door that was always closed. Straight ahead, an open doorway and two stone steps down into the tiniest kitchen you've ever seen where they spent most of their time. I was drawn to that closed door intrigued to know what was behind it. Each time I came to the farm, I looked to my left.

In the hope that door would be lying open. It never was. At school, we were learning to play the recorder. Everyone else had the standard black and cream instruments. I'd found a bright red one. I was a misfit even then. I took to it quickly and learned to read music. Those little black dots and sticks dance right off that page for me. I wanted more. I wanted to learn to play the piano. Just one slight problem, we didn't have a piano and pianos were expensive. I lamented this fact as I sat in the tiny kitchen with mister and missus Sutton. Slowly, mister Sutton got out of his chair beckoning me to follow him as he shuffled across the wooden floor and opened that door. A secret piano.

Standing against the wall of the dining room. Wow. It looked old. I learned to play the piano when I was nine. First, I used the neighbor's old piano hidden away in their little used dining room. A secret piano. Then I think my parents realized my constant presence at the farmhouse might be an imposition on the kind farmer and his wife. But they also thought I'd quickly get bought. And so they bought me the cheapest secondhand piano they could find. It cost £50. They promised that if I stuck with it, they'd buy a better one. My piano was so old it couldn't even be tuned properly. The piano tuner told me that if he tightened the strings enough to hit the right notes, the strings would snap. So certain of the notes were always off key.

No matter how much I practiced and how perfectly I played the piece, it would come out sounding different, not quite right. My piano stood in a corner of our living room waiting patiently for me to get home from school each day. I'd lift up the creaking lid and let my mood dictate the piece I chose to play, the story I told with those notes. My piano stood in a corner of our living room. I loved it and yet I couldn't wait for it to be gone replaced by a better version. But life doesn't always go to plan. I realized there would be no better piano. The stories of my childhood would make themselves heard on these keys, always slightly out of tune, a metaphor for my ADHD brain.

Everyone has a signature tune, a party piece, the song you've played over and over fingers dancing over the keys again and again until it becomes second nature. You could play it in your sleep. My signature tune was Scott Joplin's The Entertainer. I loved the way my hands had to bounce around to play it. The Entertainer my party piece designed to entertain people Except I didn't play it at parties. I didn't entertain anyone with it. I wanted to share the music, bring joy to people through the bright melody. But rejection sensitivity meant I thought I'd ruin the joy if I didn't play every single note perfectly. People would judge me a failure. And with the ingrained knowledge that everything I'd played so far had been slightly off key.

I decided it was safer to keep the music inside me, not share it with anyone. My secret piano. A quote I came across recently said, you're not responsible for the version of you other people see. At first, I thought, heck, yes, people can be so judgmental. But then I pondered it more deeply. You're not responsible for the version of you other people see. Is that true? People have a perception that I'm supremely confident. Even my mom and my oldest school friends when asked for three words to describe me all chose confident as the top one. That was the appearance I was giving outwardly successful senior roles in global professional services firms flying off around the world leading teams on high pressure corporate finance transactions.

Fearless leading the way. It was all an illusion. A tune I was playing based on my perception of what a capable person would do and say. I bought the sheet music for competent adult, the musical, and I was playing it note perfectly. That was the version of me I was letting other people see. Behind this loud confident persona, I've lived my life in relative silence. I've always struggled to share my creativity. My head is full of thoughts. I never stop thinking. But I struggle to get these thoughts out on paper. Always feeling that what I have to say wouldn't be of interest to anyone else.

Hours spent scrolling social media told me there are so many people out there already talking about the things I want to say and saying them so much better than I ever could. So I have a library of blog posts fully written in my mind never making it onto anyone's screen. Fear of judgment, fear of failure, just like playing the piano in public. Earlier this year, I decided to try journaling as a way to build up my confidence with creative writing. But I didn't know how to journal. So I joined a journaling club, the Sunday morning journaling club that you can't guess when it happens. The coach explained that a journal can be anything you want it to be. Long form text, bullet points, a drawing, a photograph, a poem, anything at all.

When I saw the word poem, I had a visceral reaction. A poem. Don't be ridiculous. I'm autistic. I've never written a poem in my life. When it was time to write, she put on some background music. It was a solo pianist. The album name, The Secret Piano. This piano music touched my soul and freed up my creativity. Out of nowhere, I found myself writing a poem And I've written several more since. People sometimes ask, are you musical? What does this really mean? As I'm autistic, I'd always taken this question very literally telling people that, yes, I'm a little musical. I play the piano a bit. It's been forty years since I started to play the piano. For much of that time, I didn't have access to a piano.

But the secret piano has been with me throughout without me recognizing it. I have music playing on repeat in my head. It calms me. It soothes me. And now it's granting me permission to explore my creative side. I spent far too long worrying about the version of me other people see. And in doing so I've been hiding within myself. Don't die with your music still in you. That quote really struck me. Now I share my thoughts and experiences of being all ADHD through blog posts on my website, my social media profiles, and by speaking professionally for corporates and at events like this. I also run a monthly support group for ADHD UK called ask an ADHD coach. I'm finally giving people the opportunity to see the authentic me.

What you choose to do with that, what version of me you create in your minds, that's not for me to say. Whether you feel my words land perfectly or what I say is slightly off key, I'm playing my signature tune the only way I know how and that's enough for me. Perhaps one day I'll even play the piano for you. What strategies and tools have I put in place to support my ADHD challenges and enable me to live authentically? My sunflower lanyard. When I'm in public places, I wear my sunflower lanyard. I'm open about sharing with people that I might need extra support advocating for myself. The resources QR code includes a link to the hidden disability sunflower website where you can buy lanyards and other sunflower products.

I also have a keyring and a passport cover, for example. A feelings wheel. The feelings wheel is a visual tool that organizes emotions in a circular diagram. At its center are six core emotions with each section branching outwards into more specific and nuanced feelings. This structure is particularly beneficial for autistic people many of whom experience alexithymia which is a condition where you have difficulty identifying and labeling your own emotions. In coaching sessions, I use the feelings wheel as a powerful tool for deepening client self awareness and emotional intelligence. I might introduce the wheel when a client struggles to articulate how they feel about a situation, a relationship or a decision.

By guiding the client through the process of starting with a core emotion and progressively narrowing down to more specific feelings, I help them move beyond surface level responses like I'm fine or I feel rubbish. This precision is important because understanding exactly what we're feeling, whether it's overwhelmed rather than simply stressed or disappointed rather than just sad, enables us to identify the root causes of our emotional states and develop targeted strategies for moving forward. The visual nature of the wheel also makes coaching conversations more concrete and accessible, particularly for clients who benefit from structured visual approaches to their inner experiences.

And you can download the feelings wheel using that resources QR code. Self advocacy for online meetings. So I no longer try to hold a particular facial expression or to sit perfectly still staring directly at the camera because frankly, it's completely exhausting. I'm sure you noticed during this talk that I moved quite a lot, and I didn't make eye contact with you all of the time. I now explain to people that I'm ADHD, and I need to be able to move around to feel comfortable. Similarly, I encourage my coaching clients to do whatever they need to do to feel comfortable on our calls. Executive function skills are the skills that we use every day to manage our life and achieve our goals. There are no profiles.

Of strengths or weaknesses that that are better or worse than others. And we all have strengths and weaknesses. But I use this quiz with my coaching clients, and I did it myself at the start to help them understand where their strengths and challenges lie across the range of executive function skills. We do better with achieving our goals if we can identify ways to rely on our strengths and improve the areas that are a challenge for us. You can complete this free online quiz via the resources QR code, and I'll create a personalized report for you that shows your strengths and challenges across 12 areas of executive function skills. And finally, for the book lovers amongst you, explaining or ADHD book by Doctor.

Kerramfetamine Sadiq is a straight talking guide for those who are trying to understand autism and ADHD as a combined diagnosis. Using real life stories of people living with ADHD, this book offers advice for those who are grappling with a diagnosis and provides a framework for readers to advocate for themselves and discuss it with loved ones. And you can find a link to this book and to autism and heals by Jennifer O'Toole that I mentioned earlier using that resources QR code. So that's it from me. Thank you for listening. And I think we've got a few minutes left for me to take any questions that you might have.

Thank you. That was unseen nearly cried genuinely when you when you were talking about the piano and talking about another recognizing yourself in it and recognizing another one wasn't turning up. This was you. It's a really powerful metaphor and beautiful. I really I really thought something something else. It's and I thought the story you're talking about being in meetings and suddenly discovering everyone thinks you're condescending and not knowing, I think that talks very powerfully to something that we've all experienced, which is that something goes wrong and particularly around personal relationships and you don't, you like, can't work out what's happened.

Rarely do you get to actually find out. You're like, I just wanna know, like, what what is it like? What like what have what caused these problems? And it's so difficult.

Yeah. You feel like you're working so hard not to cause problems and to get things right and it is that constant feeling of how did I get it wrong again? I can't work any harder at getting it right and yet I still seem to get it wrong.

Exactly. Like it it's it's being very difficult. I thought it was actually lovely talking about, yeah, that we don't have guides to those things. That there's no and that being one of the big challenges, because just wanting to find out. I thought there was so much in your talk. I really did. And I genuinely, I mean, absolutely genuinely considered recording myself for an hour so that I could play it out as if it was my video. So that mine for slightly different reasons that I'm always moving, so I always feel like I'm drawing attention to myself and I'm also often looking away and that makes people think I'm not paying attention when actually I am. And honestly, I only didn't because I thought I'd get caught.

Otherwise, I was game on. There's no doubt. Took it like, spent an hour. We'd know it wasn't you though, wouldn't we, Henry? We'd be thinking like, that looks a bit like Henry, but it's not Henry because you see was what happened if someone asked me a question or something, I was like, that's when I won't get away with it. I get a little fiddle. I'll have to suddenly jump across and it'll look really obvious. But honestly, yeah, maybe this this is the time for AI me. I need to train an AI actor, and then I can just tap in, like, answer questions via just typing. Then I could just sit here and, like, my, I don't know, like a bathrobe. Worried at all. Honestly, I thought that was spectacular. I can't tell you enough and I can't.

The depth which you've been you thought about that and presented it, I thought was extremely special. So thank you. That's really kind. Right. I've lost my questions. We have had questions, and and the oh, you have to suffer one from me whilst we start. Once I go and and dig them out. If you were actually, I've got a different one. What would you say to young you, like 10 year old you?

Gosh. That's a tricky one. You mean young me before who didn't know the Yeah. Because I I think I would I would just say, you'll figure it out eventually. I think kinda don't don't worry.

Wish I gave you a worrying moment just then.

Well, he'll come back when he's ready. See. That's interesting.

But you you wouldn't tell? You wouldn't say? I feel like if I was put through a portal, would say, hey, by the way, you've got ADHD, if I had, like, a very limited amount of time. I don't know why I've thought about this, but I definitely have.

Well, think, you know, I'm kind of showing my age here and I'm very, very nearly 50 in a in a few weeks time and 10 year old me, there was no knowledge, there was no awareness. So if I was going back forty years and said you've got ADHD and autism, I don't think that would have helped me in the slightest. I think I probably would have felt worse because what would I have done with that information? I think now, you know, my son is also neurodivergent and there's so much more understanding and awareness and he goes to a specialist school and and they all just talk about it openly. And sometimes we do things and he'd say, well, that's the ADHD for you. And there's so much knowledge, but back then.

You know, there were other members of my family. Think one of my cousins was probably autistic ADHD as well. And it wasn't called that back then it was called something really quite rude and unkind. And, you know, that was that was how people approached the difference. So I'm I'm really glad that we live in in the time that we do now and that we're all kind of raising that awareness and making sure that the future 10 year olds can be told that and know what that means and and know that the support is out there.

That is what we're doing together, which is trying to make the world better, this part of the world, this understanding Mhmm. In terms of the neurodivergent part of the world, trying trying to change it for the better. Like, let's say, you know, set out my store to do that and I'm doing it with you're doing it too. We're doing it collectively together, and it's yeah. It's a yeah. It's a big deal. It's Okay. It's game changing. I think we're at the end of time. We're on perfect time. Conference is running two time, which is amazing. And very, very exciting. I genuinely found that an emotional talk. And I found it because of the amazing way you described.

The stories and the description and the eloquence with which you spoke is something else. So thank you. Oh, thank you very much. It's a pleasure. Well, yeah, all mine and thank you for doing this. Thank you for sharing. I have to say goodbye to you, so goodbye. Thank you very much. Thank you. You, Henry. Bye.