People love to call feedback “difficult” or “spicy”, and it certainly can be, but it’s really just part of leading humans. The discomfort comes from waiting too long — from letting silence grow until accountability feels like confrontation. For neurodivergent leaders, that delay can be especially tempting: we overthink, we forget, or we dread the emotional weight of it.
But feedback doesn’t have to be conflict. It can be a rhythm — a series of small, honest calibrations that keep everyone (including you) from drifting too far off course. Done this way, performance conversations aren’t about judgment or paperwork; they’re about alignment and growth. And if your brain tends to ping between hyperfocus and chaos, the key is structure that supports continuity, not perfection.
What Performance Management Really Is
We tend to treat “performance” like a reward system — promotions, PIPs, or some end-of-year verdict. But real performance management is just shared awareness:
- What’s expected
- What’s actually happening
- What needs support
When you build systems for continuous feedback, you eliminate the “surprise” factor — which is especially useful for neurodivergent brains that struggle with time blindness or emotional avoidance.
If you’re regularly talking about progress, blockers, and wins, those “spicy” conversations lose their sting. They become just… part of the rhythm.
Learning out loud means making that rhythm visible — modeling curiosity, reflection, and course correction in real time.
Build Systems, Not Surprises
Neurodivergent leaders often feel details slipping through the cracks before they actually see it. That’s not laziness — it’s the ADHD combo of limited working memory and high cognitive load. The fix isn’t “try harder,” it’s build external scaffolding:
- Create recurring 1:1 note templates that remind you to check on progress, not just status.
- Use prompts like: “What support do you need from me?” and “What’s one thing that feels harder than it should?”
- Schedule recurring reminders to review goals before mid-year and end-of-year cycles.
Your brain might forget details, but your systems shouldn’t.
And when you make those systems visible — documenting goals, notes, and feedback — your team learns that process is a shared responsibility, not a secret checklist in your head.
How to Measure Performance (Without Getting Lost in the Noise)
I track three things, in order of clarity to chaos:
- Outcomes – Are they delivering what they committed to? Are they proactive about risks?
- Collaboration – Are they helping the team, documenting, and communicating clearly?
- Growth Curve – Are they taking on challenges appropriate for their level?
Here’s the reframe:
- Not everyone is supposed to be a “high performer.” A team of all high performers would collapse under its own ambition.
- Your “steady performers” — the ones quietly holding the line — are the backbone. Protect them. Celebrate them.
As ADHD leaders, we tend to hyperfocus on the bright spots and neglect the stable ones. Don’t do that. Stability is gold.
Learning out loud also means giving visible appreciation — showing your team that consistency matters as much as brilliance.
Setting Expectations You Can Actually Coach
Goal-setting is where ADHD leaders tend to self-sabotage: we overpromise, understructure, and then drown in the gap. Instead:
- Start with values – What energizes this person? What drains them? Align their goals accordingly.
- Co-create goals – Not “I set, you do,” but “we define success together.”
- Use SMART-ish goals – Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, Time-bound — but flexible enough for human reality.
Think of it like pair-programming for growth. The real art is staying transparent when things drift — narrating your own process so others learn it’s okay to iterate in public.
Handling Underperformance (Without Drama or Avoidance)
We hate conflict — not because we’re cowards, but because rejection sensitivity makes it painful.
So we either avoid it until it explodes, or we overcorrect and come in too hot. The sweet spot is evidence-based empathy:
- Show data, not disappointment. “Here are the missed deliverables,” not “I’m frustrated.”
- Name the gap. Tie it to the role expectations, not personal traits.
- Co-design the fix. Let them own part of the plan — milestones, support, and check-ins.
- Document. Future-you will thank you when memory fails.
If, after genuine support and structure, someone still can’t meet the bar, it’s not a surprise. It’s a continuation of an ongoing story — and that’s much kinder to both of you.
Learning out loud here means modeling what accountability looks like without shame — turning correction into care.
Supporting High Performers (Without Burning Them Out)
Neurodivergent leaders often bond with their high performers — the ones who get things done fast, who don’t need as much guidance. But those folks can burn out quietly, especially if they’re also neurodivergent and masking hard.
So:
- Ask what fuels them — recognition, complexity, mentorship, autonomy. Don’t guess.
- Give them scope, not just more work.
- Enforce rest as hard as you enforce excellence.
High performers aren’t self-recharging batteries. They’re people who need boundaries too.
If you’re learning out loud, this is where you model rest and pacing — by showing that even leaders can slow down without losing credibility.
Micro-Habits for Sustainable Leadership
If your executive function tends to… fluctuate, here’s a simple loop to keep feedback continuous without overwhelming yourself:
- Feedback hygiene: Within 48 hours of a meeting, give one “keep doing” and one “try differently.” Log it.
- Promotion clarity: Publish examples of what “ready for next level” looks like — no corporate poetry.
- Monthly sanity check: Review your notes. Who hasn’t gotten feedback lately? Who’s thriving, who’s adrift?
Don’t rely on memory. Rely on mechanisms.
And when you forget — because you will — share that too. Transparency builds trust far more than flawless execution.
A Final Note (to My Team, and to Myself)
I’ll be honest: I struggle with this stuff too. The systems I build sometimes outpace the energy I have to sustain them. I lose track of notes, skip check-ins, or hyperfocus on one urgent fire while a quieter ember burns somewhere else. I care deeply about supporting my people, but I don’t always succeed at doing it well.
But I think that’s okay — not because failure is fine, but because growth takes practice. We’re all unfinished drafts trying to lead other unfinished drafts. The work isn’t to be perfect; it’s to keep improving the system that supports the people.
So here’s my call to action — mostly to myself:
To be more intentional with my feedback.
To slow down enough to notice where someone’s struggling before it turns into a story about underperformance.
To make space for rest, reflection, and repair — for myself and my team.
Because leadership isn’t a finished skillset; it’s an evolving practice.
And I want to be the kind of leader who keeps learning out loud — one conversation, one correction, one act of care at a time.
