A true story of neurodivergent anxiety and the HR forms that felt like a crime

Thich Nhat Hanh, often called the father of mindfulness, is famous for teaching: “Walk as if you are kissing the Earth with your feet.” This powerful quote is a mindful instruction to move with intention, presence, and gratitude—as if your feet were gently and lovingly kissing the earth with every step.

Essentially: tread carefully.

Our world is growing increasingly self-aware. We have a greater understanding of the human condition and the freedom to embrace our individualism. Unhindered by the social restraints of the past, platforms like LinkedIn are now littered with people sharing personal insights on neurodiversity. Some preach, others teach.

It would be easy to assume that a diagnosis instantly turns someone into a vocal advocate standing on a virtual soapbox. However, not everyone is comfortable wearing their neurodiversity like a badge or shouting about it. Some keep it private; it’s theirs to own and share only if they choose.

Some people may not even have a diagnosis. Many adults may exhibit all the characteristics but have developed coping mechanisms so strong that a formal diagnosis is challenging due to the absence of Clinically Significant Impairment.

This means that a significant segment of our population is silently struggling through the day, getting on with life within a society designed primarily for neurotypicals.

The friction point: HR Policy

A close family member, who chooses to keep their neurodiversity private from their employer (as is absolutely their right), recently highlighted a key source of friction regarding Human Resources policy.

As we recently established, there is no blanket HR or legal requirement in the UK that compels an employee to declare any neurodiversity diagnosis (including Autism or ADHD) to their employer. Disclosure is always the employee's choice. Furthermore, the Equality Act 2010 generally restricts employers from asking questions about a candidate's health or disability before a job offer is made.

Therefore, it is reasonable to accept that many employees are silently navigating daily life whilst exhausting their internal battery. While disclosure is preferable because it engages the employer's legal duty to make reasonable adjustments, we must tread carefully for those who choose not to disclose their diagnosis.

The impact of harsh words

My family member was unfortunately ill on three separate occasions during the reporting year at their place of work. Because these three days surpassed the threshold for absences, it automatically triggered an HR procedure. In itself, there is nothing wrong with this, as it is a standard policy.

The return-to-work meeting was mandatory, resulting in a document sent to them containing these terms:

• Witness statement
• There is a case to answer
• Include the date, time and location of the incident
• Protect a witness
• Form part of evidence
• Against whom the allegations have been made
• Absence investigation

For my family member (who often sees the world in binary terms), these words immediately felt like a criminal accusation and invoked a period of extreme anxiety. They simply could not reconcile such harshness over routine sick leave.

While these terms may be necessary for a formal disciplinary meeting, they are heavy-handed and disproportionate for an initial return-to-work discussion.

Fearing job loss, my family member returned to work despite still being unwell, with it being clearly communicated that any disciplinary action could lead to contract termination. For any person, this is stressful. For a neurodiverse individual, it felt overwhelming and created stress that hindered their recovery.

Words are truly powerful.

Reflecting on Thich Nhat Hanh's advice, our professional interactions should be gentle. A neurotypical individual might easily glide past these terms and understand the bigger policy picture, but we are not all neurotypical. We should exhibit a more mindful approach that is based on kindness and empathy.

For my family member, the issue lay with the employer using the same disciplinary form for the return-to-work meeting. A separate document with gentler words, such as 'discussion', 'circumstances' or 'review' would have alleviated so much stress.

I am confident that it was never the employer's intention to cause stress, but without insights like this being shared, we cannot make progress. Unfortunately, there is no mechanism for me to safely share this insight with the sizeable employer without potentially breaching the policy regarding the sharing of internal documentation.

Irrespective of the policy, my family member required my support to see them through this and, thankfully, the formal meeting was a formality. I learned a lot from this experience, which is why I wanted to share this story with you.

I know we can’t always get things right, but by starting from a position of empathy, we can ensure our language is mindful. 

I hope the takeaway for you is this: “Use words that gently hug the reader so our interactions are positive.” 

Perhaps not as philosophical as Thich Nhat Hanh, but just as poignant. I hope.