Executive Functioning, ADHD, and Autism – Why the Glaringly Obvious Isn’t Always So Obvious
- Sarah Hardy
- 2 days ago
- 7 min read
Executive functioning skills are the unseen engine behind everything we do—planning, organising, remembering tasks, and adapting to changes. They keep our daily lives running smoothly.
But for those of us with ADHD or Autism, executive functioning can be one of the most significant and misunderstood challenges. It’s not just about being forgetful or easily distracted. It’s about the brain’s difficulty connecting cause and effect, recognising patterns in real-time, and navigating routines when things don’t go to plan.
And when you’re a woman with ADHD or Autism, these challenges often intersect with the mental load of daily life, creating a relentless battle against your own brain.
More frustratingly, trying to explain these moments to others can feel impossible. Like today—why didn’t I realise I couldn’t give my son a lift? I have no idea.
The guilt and shame of not being able to explain why things go wrong only adds to the overwhelm. This is for those moments when you feel stupid or incompetent—not because you are, but because your brain processes information differently.
The Flat Tyre
Here’s a perfect example of how executive dysfunction can play out in real life:
On Sunday, I jumped in the car, drove down the road, and instantly felt something was off. A completely flat tyre. No panic—I reversed back onto the drive and used my husband’s car instead. Problem solved.
Except, nothing is ever that simple when executive functioning difficulties are in play.
Monday mornings are usually straightforward—I swim early, work from a café, and then head home. My husband kindly offered his car so I wouldn’t have to miss my swim while waiting for mine to be fixed. But he needed the car at a time earlier then I am normally back, so I found myself feeling vague about my plans and if I could still go swimming even though technically I could, couldn't I?
Time blindness and disrupted routines made it difficult to figure out how everything would fit.
What Needed Changing?
The offer of using my husband’s car was kind. But the moment I tried to fit that change into my usual routine, it became a complicated puzzle with missing pieces. Suddenly, my straightforward plan felt scattered and overwhelming.
No I'd have to work out;
The time I got up.
The time I left.
My swim start time.
My shower time.
Getting dressed and driving home instead of working from the café.
The early call I usually take while working out of the house—would I be back in time?
Switching from needing two bags to just one—making sure my laptop and home office were ready in case I needed to jump on a call.
On top of that, we’d been at a social event. It was loud. I was keeping an eye on the kids—both tired from back-to-back social events, which is unusual for us. I was probably already slightly sensory overloaded and definitely a little “peopled out.”
And that’s the thing. Some days, adapting is easy. Other days, it feels impossible.
It’s not that I didn’t want to be at the social events or enjoy them—I did. But having three social events in a week is rare for me. Even if it doesn’t look like it on the outside, it can have a huge impact on my executive functioning skills.
This is true for many neurodivergent people. And it’s one of the hardest things to explain:
Why the one thing that trips us up seems so small and inconsequential to others.
Why we can seamlessly manage certain situations and fall apart over something that seems trivial.
Why adapting can be both simple and impossible—depending on what’s happening around us and how overloaded our brain already feels.
It’s rarely the obvious thing in front of us. It’s everything that came before—all the noise, adjustments, decisions, and mental juggling. And sometimes, the smallest disruption is just too much.
Eventually, I managed to piece things together. I decided I could swim early, skip working from the café, and come straight home so the car was available when my husband needed it.
I even managed to be proactive and contacted a tyre fitter. They confirmed they’d come by in the morning to check the tyre size, then head off to buy a replacement and return later to fit it. It felt like I’d worked everything out. But, in reality, I’d only solved part of the puzzle.
Meanwhile, my son—off for half-term—kept asking what time we needed to leave so he could catch a bus with his friend to the cinema. This wasn’t a last-minute plan; it was arranged on Friday and we’d discussed it all weekend. I would take him to is friends (who don't live on a direct bus route or walking distance from us) so they could travel together.
I told him, I reminded him, I planned. We walked out the door, ready to leave, and only then did I realise...
I couldn’t drive my car.
The thing I had been talking about all day—arranging the tyre change, acknowledging my car was out of service—had completely failed to connect to the reality of needing a car for the drop-off.
An emergency taxi was being booked on an app when a friend offered a lift (his son was in the same group going to the cinema, lives down the road from us and so obviously also needed a lift, but I had not considered that this). We made it work. My son was on time.
But the experience left me feeling absolutely ridiculous.
How could something so glaringly obvious slip through my mental net?
Executive Functioning and ADHD/Autism
This isn’t just forgetfulness or distraction—it’s a fundamental difference in how the brain processes and connects information. And research backs this up.
Executive dysfunction is one of the most common challenges for individuals with ADHD or Autism. Studies suggest that ADHD brains can struggle with:
Task Initiation (starting tasks, even when the need is recognised).
Planning and Organisation (breaking tasks into manageable steps).
Working Memory (holding information in the mind while using it).
Cognitive Flexibility (shifting from one task or thought to another).
Inhibitory Control (suppressing impulses or distractions).
The reality is, I’m not incompetent. I’m dealing with a brain that can struggle to make connections between tasks—even when they’re right in front of me, seem connected, and I am literally dealing with both at the same time.
And the hilarious irony? I’m actually really good at pattern recognition in so many other situations. In fact, it’s one of my strengths. I can spot trends, foresee potential issues, and identify solutions before others even realise there’s a problem.
I can connect dots and sense patterns emerging from chaos in ways that feel intuitive. Whether it's anticipating a client’s needs before they vocalise them, recognising the early signs of overwhelm in someone else, or piecing together complex ideas in ways that others find challenging.
But when it comes to day-to-day tasks and routines, my brain has a knack for missing the obvious connections. To me, fixing the tyre on my car was a completely separate task from giving my son a lift. It’s not that I didn’t care, forget, or ignore it. My brain just didn't make the connection.
It's like having a superpower that works perfectly in some contexts and fails spectacularly in others. And the most frustrating part? Trying to explain why I can predict complex problems but still miss something so glaringly obvious as not having a working car and attempting to give a lift in the same moment I am arranging to have that car fixed.
Why Women with ADHD and Autism Feel Misunderstood
Research shows that women with ADHD are more likely to experience executive functioning difficulties that manifest as chronic overwhelm, exhaustion, and guilt.
We often develop coping mechanisms that mask our struggles, which can lead to underdiagnosis or misdiagnosis. From the outside, we can appear high-functioning and organised. But underneath, we’re burning out from the constant effort to keep everything together.
For Autistic individuals, rigidity in thinking and difficulties adapting to changes in routine can make executive dysfunction even more pronounced. This is compounded by the fact that autistic women are often socialised to mask their symptoms, resulting in a higher mental load and frequent burnout.
The real struggle can be trying to explain these moments to others.
It can feel almost impossible to articulate. When you can’t explain why something went wrong, it leaves you feeling ashamed, guilty, and completely misunderstood.
Explaining the Unexplainable
How do you explain to someone that you made plans around a car you knew wasn’t working? How do you make them understand that you weren’t careless—you genuinely didn’t make the connection?
That’s the tricky part. The “why” feels so out of reach, even to me. The frustration of not having words for it only adds to the shame.
It’s not about lack of effort or care. It’s about how my brain connects (or doesn’t connect) the dots. And the harder I try to explain, the more ridiculous I feel.
Why Understanding Matters
This is why it’s so important for employers, colleagues, friends, and family to understand that executive dysfunction isn’t about laziness or incompetence. It’s about how the brain processes (or fails to process) information.
And for those of us who experience it? Self-compassion is crucial. Recognising that these moments of disconnection aren’t failures. You’re not broken. You’re not incompetent. You’re just wired differently.
Executive functioning difficulties are real, impactful, and often misunderstood. Whether you’re neurodivergent yourself or supporting someone who is, understanding these differences is essential. It’s not about fixing or changing who you are—it’s about finding what works for you.
I'd love to know:
What’s something you’ve completely missed or failed to connect, even though it seemed “obvious” to others?
What strengths do you have that others often overlook or underestimate? (e.g., creativity, pattern recognition, emotional insight).
How do you currently support your own executive functioning needs without feeling ashamed of them?
Resources and Research:
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