Navigating ResearchOps with ADHD: Unbounded Curiosity Is My Greatest Asset
by Jamie Williams
The world of work can be a scary place if you’re different. To many people, neurodivergence is perceived as laziness, obstinacy, or as an excuse for poor performance, but what if that perception could be shifted?
In the UK, employment rates for people who are disabled are 54.2 percent, and in the neurodiverse community, fewer than 35 percent of people are employed. When compared to the general population in which 82 percent of able individuals are working, it reveals a glaring issue.
Jade Davies is a former member of the research team at the Centre for Research in Autism and Education at University College London in the UK. In a National Library of Medicine abstract, she explains how people with neurodivergence can find gaining and holding employment difficult, as they often struggle with hiring processes and workplace support, or have concerns about stigma and discrimination if they’re open about their neurodivergence. I’m part of the minority that, perhaps through chance, have managed to remain in employment despite my challenges as an ADHD adult, and I’ve found my passion (and inclusivity) in the world of research operations.
Maybe you have suspicions about your own neurodivergence, or have received a diagnosis, and are struggling to find the ‘right’ role for yourself. In this article, I’ll share some of the challenges and opportunities I’ve faced during my career as an adult with late-diagnosed ADHD, and how I managed to succeed in the world of ResearchOps.
Beginning the Journey
I’m sure you’ve encountered people with ADHD (Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder) in your social circles. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, “ADHD is a developmental disorder characterised by an ongoing pattern of one or more of the following types of symptoms:
Inattention, such as having difficulty paying attention, keeping on task, or staying organised
Hyperactivity, such as often moving around (including during inappropriate times), feeling restless, or talking excessively
Impulsivity, such as interrupting, intruding on others, or having trouble waiting one’s turn”
Naturally, many people will experience some or even all of these symptoms at some point or another (or from time to time), but for people with ADHD, these symptoms are far more prevalent and can impact their progress in education, employment, and relationships with others.
I did quite well in educational settings in my early years. I was a high performer in school, obsessed with getting high grades—despite my family encouraging me to relax and just “do my best.” I remember spending countless hours re-reading revision books before exams, losing sleep worrying, and being in a permanent state of anxiety—far more frequently than a teenager should experience. I was well behaved (mostly!), and nobody would have ever suspected that I was neurodivergent, despite numerous bouts of seeking mental health support and talking therapies as an overthinker and worrier.
It was a surprise to many, particularly my family, when I received my formal diagnosis of combined ADHD in 2022. This means that I am not aligned to either hyperactive/impulsive symptoms or inattention, but instead, I get to juggle both!
Several people close to me assumed that ADHD was primarily associated with naughty children (which is, of course, an untrue assumption, but an unfortunate stigma associated with this type of diagnosis), and as such, they couldn’t imagine my diagnosis was accurate. But for me, this was a lightbulb moment of self-realisation that has shaped my life and career.
Looking Back
Throughout my childhood and early adult years, I was always well-liked—I had lots of friends and managed to integrate into most circles. However, I was overly adaptable. Subconsciously, I was often rewriting my entire personality depending on who I was around. Call me a chameleon; I always managed to fit in, but didn’t have a sense of my own identity. After school, as a young adult thrown into new social circles, I began prioritising my social life over my academic studies and employment, which isn’t uncommon at that age, but considered through an ADHD lens, I can see that this was me masking.
Masking is the technique by which individuals adapt their behaviours to blend in with others and is commonly used in the context of autism or other neurodiverse conditions. According to Psychology Today, masking can have mixed impacts on an individual: “While this technique can be advantageous in some ways, by creating greater integration in settings such as education or employment, it can come with heavy psychological costs, such as stress, exhaustion, burnout, and loss of identity.”
Thankfully, I still managed to progress through college and university, balancing my studies with a part-time job in the local library. Though this time of my life was not without its struggles. I had regular battles with mental health, and my grades certainly suffered as a result. In 2013, I graduated with a degree in Multimedia Computing, specialising in website design, and I was fortunate to immediately take on a Sabbatical Officer role in my Students’ Union as a Welfare and Equality officer, where I was able to use my experiences in mental health to push for positive changes for others. I later went into teaching before moving into a series of varied positions in multiple industries, including social listening in the gaming industry.
A common theme throughout my employment has been my attraction to roles where I felt I was making a meaningful impact on others, and that what I did mattered on some level. I loved working in the library, engaging with the public, and creating a safe, tidy knowledge hub for the local community. I loved teaching students new skills and perspectives, and I also enjoyed people management—helping others achieve their goals gave me a real sense of purpose. My passion for helping others also shows up as a strong aptitude for reading other people. And thanks to my years of childhood spent adapting to different social groups, I managed to translate this well into the workplace, allowing me to negotiate and have influence within various corporate circles as required.
I’m acutely aware that in the early years of my career, I struggled to settle into a role. Initially, I was very invested and would prioritise my job over everything else in my life, until one day I would suddenly lose interest. I found it puzzling that I could disengage from something I was passionate about so quickly, and that any other role suddenly seemed to be more appropriate for me than the one I was comfortable in.
Looking back now, I can see that there has been an important pattern to my overall journey in the positions I was drawn to, my hobbies and interests outside of work, and even the roles I undertook for only a few months.
Going on Side Quests
I tend to have a habit of fleeting interests, forever finding new projects in my home life that are all-consuming…for a few days. I’ll obsess to no end over the latest idea, spending countless hours (and money) upskilling and investing in relevant materials to support it before the interest fizzles away. Whether it’s knitting, learning guitar, cross-stitching, card making, baking, budgeting…the list goes on! I have so many cupboards filled with unfinished projects, it’s almost embarrassing—even though I do hope to pick them back up one day. In the ADHD world, a cupboard like mine is called a “hobby graveyard” for obvious reasons.
The nature of my fleeting interests means that I often get lost in a rabbit hole of curiosity in the workplace, which can yield new, creative results (or sometimes, a waste of time!) It’s taken many years of practice to not only make sure that this curiosity doesn’t prevent progress in my standard work, but also steers it towards meaningful innovation. I live by my virtual whiteboard tools and notepads, and make a habit of communicating with my peers to keep them up to date with my activities while also gauging their interest in my side-quests.
One of the most interesting aspects of my ADHD is the near-constant contradiction that I battle each day. For instance, in a work context, these are all regular experiences:
I’m unable to work without structure, but too much structure is suffocating and drives me to disengage.
Some weeks, it feels like it takes me the whole week to do a thirty-minute task, while other weeks I could do a week’s work in thirty minutes.
I love working with others, but too much socialising is overstimulating.
A noisy environment is distracting, but silence feels weird, so I have loud music blasting through my earphones to help me focus.
It takes me significantly longer than my peers to start a task, but I usually finish it in record time, often before everyone else.
I want everything to be documented, but I’m terrible at taking notes.
I get really stressed about running out of time for a task, so I’ll need to go for a drive to calm down (which leaves me with even less time to finish the task).
ADHD comes with quirks that can prompt a lot of negative perceptions, especially when the quirks appear as a different way of working than the ‘norm’. But ultimately the work gets done—and often in new, creative and impactful ways than a traditional approach. For instance, if I’m on a long drive, I’ll often come up with new ideas to introduce to the team, new systems that could elevate our work, or I might even solve a problem that I’ve been mulling over for weeks. Just because my approach doesn’t look like a stereotypical productive employee chained to a desk, it doesn’t mean that I can’t effectively push a business forward!
Thriving in the Diverse World of ResearchOps
Discovering the world of ResearchOps was another fine example of me falling into a role after line managing a group of UX researchers in a digital delivery team. After hearing their frustrations about the lack of standardised practices, uncertainty around data governance, and general burnout from participant recruitment, it was clear that something had to change.
Until this point, many of the ResearchOps initiatives were supported as extracurricular activities by one of the researchers, in addition to their primary duties. Pushing forward to help my team, I designed the ResearchOps Manager role and was determined to make it a reality. It wasn’t until my manager at the time asked me if I was sure I didn’t want the role for myself…that got me thinking, maybe I do!
In a whirlwind turn of events, I applied for the role and was invited to interview. This, ironically, coincided with receiving my ADHD diagnosis. On the morning of my interview, a colleague questioned whether I was even sure I would be able to do the job, asking, “Won’t it be difficult to do the documentation side of the role if you have ADHD; surely you won’t be able to focus on it all?”
In my opinion, that question sums up the entire purpose of this article. Unfortunately, the default assumption is that ADHD will get in the way, not that it could be an asset. Against the odds, I was offered the role and took my first ResearchOps position back in 2023.
I won’t lie, the blank canvas of a brand-new role (that I had designed!) was quite overwhelming at first, but I quickly adapted. It was such an incredible and liberating feeling to embrace the potential to really make a difference and shape an entire function towards success.
I have since found that every tiny bit of experience I’ve gained over the years is relevant to ResearchOps. For example, my leadership and management experience enable effective change management for employees. My social listening background translates well to research teams and management of technology—even my library experience contributes to repository and knowledge management for our teams. I would never have predicted this is where I would find myself, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.
One of the things I adore about ResearchOps is the diversity in talent it attracts, and rightly so. I have had the pleasure of hiring a number of amazing ResearchOps professionals over the last few years, from many different walks of life, each bringing unique value to the team. Here’s just a sample of what I mean:
A former receptionist brings organisation, customer service skills, and business knowledge to the role.
A former volunteer from Nightline, a confidential listening service for students, brings strong communication and empathy skills to research participant recruitment.
An internal hire with experience in GDPR and security brings this depth of knowledge to our data governance processes in research.
Contact centre staff bring business/service knowledge and skilled telephone presence to participant recruitment.
Looking Ahead
While many ResearchOps professionals may have a wealth of experience in research, this is in no way a requirement. In truth, if all ResearchOps professionals were strictly former researchers, we would miss out on the unique skills and creativity that diversity in experience would otherwise bring to the team.
The same can be said for neurodiversity and diversity in character—creating space for and supporting this in your team can elevate your ResearchOps potential to new heights. While my ADHD is frustrating at times and can slow me down, it also enables me to be adaptable, level-headed in a crisis, and to intentionally prioritise making improvements that work for those most impacted.
I’m so grateful to have taken a chance in ResearchOps with ADHD as my copilot, and that we’re in it together for the journey!
Getting the Support You Need
If you feel you may be neurodiverse and could benefit from support both within your professional and personal life, I encourage you to speak to your local healthcare provider in the first instance. In the UK, there are a number of options for support, including ADHD assessments. I found that utilising Right to Choose reduced my assessment wait time from approximately four years to one, so it’s worth doing some research around your options.
There are also a number of informal community-run support groups via social media (such as Reddit or Facebook) that can offer guidance based on real-world experiences, though your healthcare provider is best placed for a more formal approach.
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Edited by Kate Towsey and Katel LeDu.
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Brilliant to read - so much of this resonated with me!
Thanks for sharing your experience so humanly 🧡 I can relate to the coping mechanism of masking my (previously undiagnosed) neurodivergence in the workplace. It’s much easier for me now that I am my own boss 😉