My socks don’t match.
No, this isn’t a metaphor. I literally walked out the door wearing a green sock and a blue sock.
They were on perfectly straight, though.
Had to make sure the seams wouldn’t rub my toes the wrong way.
Because I’m Autistic. And I’m ADHD.
Yes, you can be both.
Which means I’ll obsess over texture alignment…
and completely miss the color mismatch because I’m still mentally reverse-engineering how diffraction gratings in AR glasses work, like teeny tiny, super precise combs trying to part light beams at just the right angles.
(If someone from Apple or Meta reads this, please call me out if that’s a craptacular analogy.)
(Also, it’s really cool stuff! You should check it out.)
Anyways…
That’s one small, mildly ridiculous example of how Autism and ADHD can show up in daily life. Not always in the ways people expect.
It might look like fidgeting with your pen or pacing around the room during a meeting to stay grounded.
Or finishing your Autism Awareness Month post a day late, while you’re on vacation.
Or needing quiet time before jumping into collaboration, because your high-octane brain won’t engage until your coolant levels are sufficient.
Or reworking the requirements for a new identity context API because the schema feels like it’s stitched together with dental floss and toothpicks.
Sure, it doesn’t look tidy.
But pattern recognition rarely is.
The DSM calls that a disorder.
But what it really describes is a brain that makes people uncomfortable, especially when it questions what they call “normal.”
Autism and ADHD aren’t modern problems.
They’re ancient neurotypes.
We’ve always been part of humanity:
the fire tenders, toolmakers, trackers, scouts.
The ones who noticed what others missed.
The ones who saw the break coming and acted before anyone else could blink.
Today we’re engineers, architects, founders, VPs, and so much more.
Not despite how our brains work, but because of it.
The world doesn’t need perfect socks.
It needs men and women with honest brains, clear intent, and curious hearts.
That’s how you define leadership, no matter what socks you’re wearing.