Neurodiversity & Reasonable Adjustments

Across the globe, neurodivergent diagnoses are rising fast. More people are finally getting clarity about how their brains work. And many workplaces? They’re still catching up.

Leaders, business owners, and employees are grappling with what this means. Is neurodiversity a disability? What are my obligations as an employer? And how do we support neurodivergent people without getting it wrong?

This article aims to unpack those questions—legally, practically, and most importantly, humanly.

My story

We don’t know the exact number of people in Australia with a neurodiverse condition—but current estimates say it’s about 1 in 7. And I know from experience: this topic is still loaded with stigma, shame, and judgement.

When my son was diagnosed with ADHD and Dyspraxia at age 5, the paediatrician suggested medication straight away. I was in shock. The first thought that went through my head?

This is my fault. I caused this. I’m broken—so my child is broken.

And that’s before the peanut gallery chimed in. Friends and family said things like:

“Wow—every kid gets diagnosed these days. Do you really believe he has ADHD? He seems fine.”

“I’d never medicate my child. That’s just setting them up to be a drug addict.”

“Ritalin is basically speed.”

“Doctors get kickbacks for over-diagnosing kids.”

Sigh. The shame. The ignorance. The fear. It’s no wonder so many parents—and neurodivergent people themselves—keep it quiet. Why would you disclose a disability when the risk of being judged, misunderstood, or dismissed is so high?

Even my own parents scoffed. I remember telling them about the ADHD diagnosis, and then Dyspraxia. My dad literally laughed and said, “That’s not a real condition. What a joke.”

But here’s what’s wild: as I researched and advocated for my son, I started recognising myself. The penny dropped.

I 100% had undiagnosed Dyspraxia as a child. It’s a neurological condition (also called Developmental Coordination Disorder or DCD) that affects motor skills and coordination. About 1 in 20 primary school-aged kids have it, and it’s more common in boys.

Looking back, the signs were obvious. I was constantly covered in bruises. It took me ages to learn skills like swimming, dancing, ball sports. I was clumsy, uncoordinated—and the butt of every family joke.

On camping trips, I’d trip over every tent rope, knock drinks over, even fell into the fire once. In Year 10, I famously knocked over a birdcage at a friend’s house and released two budgies into the wild… then walked straight into a glass door 30 minutes later. It smashed into a million pieces. My parents still bring that story up.

But it wasn’t just Dyspraxia. I was also legally blind in one eye. Born with a lazy eye, I broke things and spilled things daily. My dad’s constant refrain?

“What is wrong with you? Stop crying, you idiot. You are the biggest clutz. Get out of my sight.”

Decades later, I got to relive that experience through my son. Same clumsiness. Same big reactions when he got hurt. But this time, I could break the cycle. When he drops a glass, I tell him it’s ok—we’ve got more. When he gets hurt, I hold him close and let him cry it out.

Because I see him. And in doing so, I’ve finally started to see—and understand—myself.

Last year, I received my own formal ADHD diagnosis. It was life-changing. Not because I finally had access to the medication (I decided to not medicate), but because it gave me something I never had as a child: compassion. For myself. For that little girl who grew up thinking she was broken. Always trying to prove herself. Always feeling “too much” or “not enough”.

That’s the reality of undiagnosed neurodivergence. It’s not just about focus or coordination. It’s about identity, self-worth, and the systems that fail to support difference.

So what is neurodiversity?

Neurodiversity refers to the natural variation in how people think, process, and experience the world. Every brain is different—which means every person has unique skills, challenges, and needs.

Neurodivergent people include those with:

• ADHD
• Autism
• Dyspraxia
• Dyslexia
• Dyscalculia
• Tourette’s
• And other cognitive differences

These aren’t “disorders” in the deficit sense. They’re simply different ways of being.

And while many people thrive with their unique brains, the barriers often come from a world—and a workplace—that isn’t designed with them in mind.

How common is neurodiversity?

• Autism: 1 in 150 Australians
• ADHD: 5% of kids and 2.5% of adults
• Dyspraxia: 1 in 20 kids (more often boys)

Many people have more than one diagnosis—and some never get diagnosed at all.

Are neurodivergent conditions considered disabilities?

Under the Disability Discrimination Act 1992 and Equal Opportunity Act 2010 (VIC), the answer is yes. These laws recognise neurological and psychological disorders as disabilities—and employers have a duty to make reasonable adjustments.

But not everyone with ADHD or other conditions identifies as disabled. And while some neurodivergent people can access the NDIS, most can’t unless their condition causes significant daily impairment.

Employer obligations

If an employee discloses a neurodivergent condition, you’re legally required to:

• Make reasonable adjustments that help them perform their job
• Ensure they can participate in workplace activities equally
• Prevent discrimination or harassment

This applies to:

• Job applicants
• New hires
• Existing employees and contractors

And disability is defined broadly—it includes neurological, physical, and psychological conditions, injuries, and even temporary illnesses (like menopause).

What does a “reasonable adjustment” actually look like?

Here’s where we need to shift from legal to human.

“Reasonable adjustments” doesn’t mean building someone their own office or changing your whole business model. Most of the time, it’s really simple stuff. Low-cost. High-impact.

Think:

• Flexible work hours or remote options to suit energy patterns
• Clear written instructions (instead of verbal overload)
• Noise-cancelling headphones or quiet spaces for sensory sensitivity
• Time allowances for tasks or breaks between meetings
• Assistive tech like text-to-speech tools for dyslexia
• A buddy or mentor for training and onboarding
• Open conversations about what helps that person work best

These aren’t just nice-to-haves. They’re productivity boosters—for everyone.

If cost is a concern, you can apply for support via the Employment Assistance Fund, which helps cover the cost of adjustments.

What about employee disclosure?

Legally, employees don’t have to disclose a disability—unless it directly affects their ability to do the job safely. But disclosure is often the only way they’ll get support.

And let’s be real: most people won’t disclose unless they feel safe to do so.

If you want a workplace where neurodivergent employees can thrive, you need to create a culture of trust. That means:

• Removing the shame
• Leading with empathy
• Training your leaders
• Ditching “one-size-fits-all” thinking

Want a masterclass in neuro-inclusive leadership?

Look no further than Cherie Clonan, CEO of The Digital Picnic. Cherie is proudly autistic—and she’s flipping the script on neurodiversity in business.

Her company now pays for employee diagnoses (often $2,000+), recognising that the cost is a huge barrier for many. She’s walking the talk—and showing what it looks like when a business truly says, “All brains belong here.”

In conclusion

Neurodiversity isn’t a challenge to be managed. It’s a reality to be embraced. And the journey starts with stories, openness, and action.

By sharing mine—and my son’s—I hope more leaders start to look beyond the labels and lean into understanding.

Because when we make room for difference, we create space for brilliance.

Need help making your workplace more neuro-inclusive? We’ve got you, reach out for practical advice on where to start.