From Individual Healing to Systems Healing: Rethinking Neurodivergent Wellbeing in the Workplace

From Individual Healing to Systems HealingCaitlin Hughes

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On healing, systemic change, and why my work continues to evolve.

I'm tired of helping neurodivergent people heal from things that didn't have to happen in the first place. That's a strange thing to say as an accredited mental health social worker, particularly when so much of my professional life has involved supporting people through difficult and painful experiences.

And to be clear, it's not the neurodivergent people I'm tired of. I love the work I've done with my clients, and I know how meaningful individual support and healing can be. It's the circumstances that keep bringing neurodivergent people back to the same places of distress. I've spent years supporting neurodivergent people to better understand themselves, recognise their needs, develop healthy boundaries, navigate relationships and find more sustainable ways of living and working. And I've witnessed how much neurodivergent people can grow when they're given the space, understanding and support to do so.

But I've also witnessed neurodivergent people doing everything they possibly can, only to return to workplaces and systems that continue to undermine their wellbeing. People who have spent considerable time understanding their needs, only to have those needs dismissed. People who have worked so hard to recover from burnout, only to return to environments where the demands haven't changed. People who have developed greater confidence in advocating for themselves, only to discover that the people they're advocating to aren't particularly interested in listening.

And at some point, I started asking myself:

Why are we spending so much time helping neurodivergent people recover from harm without putting the same energy into preventing it in the first place?

How my understanding of change has evolved

When I first became a social worker, I think I had that familiar enthusiasm of wanting to make a difference in the world. I wanted to help people, challenge injustice and contribute to something meaningful. And I still do. But the longer I've worked in this space, the more I've come to appreciate just how complicated that really is.

My own experiences of workplace burnout, leaving employment and eventually establishing Cathartic Collaborations were significant parts of that learning. So was coming to understand myself as neurodivergent. There was a lot to unpack. A lot of internalised expectations and assumptions to reconsider. A lot of learning about myself, other people and the environments I'd spent years trying to navigate. And inevitably, those experiences shaped how I approached my professional work.

Initially, I focused predominantly on therapy. I could support neurodivergent people directly, help them understand their experiences and explore ways of meeting their needs. But I kept wondering how I could have a broader impact.

So I expanded into supervision. I thought, perhaps if I could support practitioners, I could contribute to the work they were doing with many more neurodivergent people. And I genuinely love supervision. There's something incredibly meaningful about creating space for reflection, curiosity and developing a deeper understanding of ourselves and our practice.

But then I started noticing another layer. These practitioners were often navigating the same systemic difficulties as the people they were supporting. They might understand neuroaffirming practice, recognise the importance of accessibility and want to work in more relational and responsive ways.

But what happens when their organisations don't support those approaches? What happens when they don't have the autonomy, resources or organisational backing to work in the ways they know would be helpful?

I began wondering whether I also needed to engage with managers, leaders, teams and organisations. To be part of conversations about the environments, policies, expectations and systems shaping neurodivergent people's experiences in the first place. And that's increasingly what has drawn me towards training, speaking and consultation. Not because I've stopped valuing individual work, but because I've become more aware of its limitations when the broader circumstances remain unchanged.

Alongside this, my PhD research has added another dimension to my thinking. Exploring autistic adults' experiences of mental health care, and the relationship between lived experience and professional knowledge, has deepened my interest in whose perspectives are recognised, whose knowledge influences practice, and how we might bridge the gap between what people experience and how systems respond.

Each evolution of Cathartic Collaborations has been informed by the one before it. I'm not necessarily changing what I care about. I'm expanding my understanding of where and how I might contribute.

We need to imagine what's possible, not just manage what exists

Something I've always enjoyed is playing with ideas. Questioning assumptions. Exploring possibilities. Wondering why things are done a particular way and what might happen if we approached them differently.

Earlier in my career, I trained in solution-focused brief therapy, and one of the ideas that stayed with me was the miracle question.

Essentially, if you woke up tomorrow and the difficulties you're experiencing had somehow been resolved, what would your life look like?

It's such an interesting question. Because for a moment, it invites us to look beyond the limitations of our current circumstances and imagine something else. And sometimes what neurodivergent people imagine isn't particularly extravagant.

Sometimes it's simply having enough money to pay their bills.

Feeling safe at work.

Having their needs understood.

Not being completely exhausted by the end of every day.

Things that really shouldn't feel so unattainable. I think there's something important about giving ourselves permission to imagine alternatives, even when they seem unrealistic. Perhaps we can't achieve the ideal version. Perhaps there are limitations, competing needs, resources we don't have or people who aren't willing to engage. But maybe we can get a little closer.

Maybe there's one assumption we could challenge.

One conversation we could approach differently.

One adjustment that could make someone's experience a little better.

And perhaps that creates opportunities for something more. I think there's a danger in becoming so focused on navigating the world as it currently exists that we stop considering what it could become. We get better at coping. Better at adapting. Better at finding ways to survive circumstances that perhaps shouldn't be accepted as inevitable.

And I understand why. Sometimes surviving is all we have the capacity to do. Sometimes the safest or most realistic option is to leave a workplace or focus on protecting ourselves. I'm certainly not suggesting that neurodivergent people should put themselves at risk trying to influence environments that aren't safe or receptive.

But I also wonder what we lose when we stop imagining alternatives altogether. For me, I think we lose some of our hope. Not necessarily the belief that everything will work out, but the possibility that things don't always have to be this way.

We can be grounded in reality without accepting that reality must remain unchanged.

And perhaps that's why I'm comfortable with some of my ideas being considered idealistic. Because I genuinely don't know how we create something better if we're unwilling to imagine it in the first place.

Change is a collective responsibility

One of the biggest shifts in my thinking has been recognising that I cannot do everything myself. And perhaps more importantly, that I was never supposed to. Earlier in my career, I think I carried a much stronger sense of personal responsibility for making things better. The more experience I've gained, the more I've come to understand that meaningful progress happens across multiple levels:

• Within ourselves. I've certainly had to confront my own internalised ableism, reconsider expectations and reflect on how I understand and approach my work.

• Between people. Through greater understanding, different communication practices and more reciprocal ways of relating.

• Within teams. Where people have opportunities to question established practices and work collaboratively.

• At an organisational or systemic level. Where policies, structures and established practices are reconsidered to create more accessible, equitable and supportive environments.

These things are interconnected, but the responsibility isn't equal. An employee trying to maintain their livelihood doesn't have the same power or influence as a manager making decisions about working conditions. A practitioner trying to provide ethical and responsive care doesn't necessarily have the authority to revise the policies governing their practice. And we cannot keep placing responsibility for inclusion on the very neurodivergent people experiencing exclusion. That's part of why I'm increasingly interested in working with people who have greater influence over these environments.

But I've also learned that this work requires courage. Particularly as someone with lived experience, it can be confronting to enter organisational spaces and question practices that may have contributed to the very harm I've experienced or witnessed. It can involve resistance, defensiveness and conversations that aren't particularly comfortable.

And sometimes people say they're open to new approaches until those approaches require them to do something differently. I've learned that I can't force that willingness. What I can do is look for the places where there's an opening. Sometimes it's a very small one.

A leader who's willing to listen.

A team that's curious about another approach.

An organisation that's beginning to recognise the gap between what it says it values and what people actually experience.

And perhaps my role is to help open that space a little further. To bring different perspectives into conversation, question assumptions and explore potential ways forward. Not to arrive with every answer, but to contribute to a process of understanding, reflection and meaningful action.

And I think it's important that we don't confuse inviting people into conversations with actually sharing influence. If we're asking neurodivergent people to contribute their knowledge and experiences, those contributions need to have some meaningful relationship to the decisions being made. Otherwise, we're simply asking people to share their experiences without necessarily addressing the conditions that shaped them.

I refuse to believe this is as good as it gets

When I look at the evolution of Cathartic Collaborations, I can see that the same values have been present throughout.

Curiosity. Equity. Challenging assumptions. Creating space for different ways of understanding and doing things.

What's evolved is my understanding of how I can contribute to those things. I still believe deeply in individual support, healing and reflective practice. But I also want to be involved in addressing the conditions that make so much of that support necessary in the first place. I want to work with people who are willing to question established practices, recognise the experiences and knowledge of those affected by their decisions, and take meaningful steps towards something better.

Not just talking about inclusion, but considering what it actually requires.

Not just helping neurodivergent people cope with inaccessible environments, but questioning why those environments remain inaccessible.

Not just responding to harm after it occurs, but considering how we might prevent some of it from happening.

And where harm has already occurred, recognising that meaningful progress may also require accountability, repair and rebuilding trust.

I don't imagine that I can resolve everything. I don't think every organisation will be receptive, or that every idea will be practical in every context. And I certainly don't think responsibility should fall on people who are already exhausted from trying to survive.

But I refuse to believe that the way things currently are represents the limit of what's possible. I've never been particularly good at accepting something simply because that's how it's always been done. Especially when how we've always done things clearly isn't working for so many neurodivergent people.

So perhaps my work will sometimes seem idealistic. I'm comfortable with that. Because I would much rather be part of conversations about what could be different than keep accepting that the status quo is inevitable.

I haven't stopped wanting to help neurodivergent people. I've become increasingly interested in changing the conditions in which neurodivergent people need help. And I think that's what this next chapter of Cathartic Collaborations is really about.

We will always need ways to support neurodivergent people through difficult experiences. But I want to be part of creating a world where fewer neurodivergent people have to spend so much of their lives recovering from harm that didn't need to happen. Because I refuse to believe this is as good as it gets.

Want to Learn More? Listen to Divergent Dialogues Podcast!

Listen to Episode #18 Disclosure and Workplace Accommodations

In this insightful episode, Caitlin and Teena delve into the complex world of workplace accommodations for Autistic folks and ADHDers. They engage in a heartfelt conversation about the challenges of disclosing neurodivergence at work and the importance of creating supportive environments. They discuss personal experiences with mental health professionals and the difficulties in identifying necessary accommodations. This episode underscores the significance of organisational empathy and awareness training, aiming to foster understanding and reduce misunderstandings. Tune in as we explore how to navigate these sensitive issues, ultimately advocating for a more inclusive and accommodating workplace.

Listen to Episode #19 Burnout and Self-Care in the Workplace

In this illuminating episode, Caitlin and Teena delve into the often misunderstood experiences of individuals requiring workplace accommodations. They share personal anecdotes and discuss the importance of awareness and flexibility within professional environments. From the biases faced by those with autism and ADHD to the significance of mental health advocacy, they explore how asking for adjustments can be a form of self-care. The duo also touch on the practical support available from mental health professionals and legal protections within Australia. Join Caitlin and Teena as they navigate these crucial topics and highlight the value of understanding and compassionate workplaces.