What a late ADHD and autism diagnosis taught one legal leader

For most of her career, Jenny Hacker was the person people called when something needed fixing.

“Nearly everyone in my life was used to me doing everything and being the go-to person,” she says.

At work, she could untangle complex problems and deliver at a pace that often left colleagues wondering how she managed it all.

For years, that reputation looked like success as head of legal operations at Royal London, the insurance and pensions giant. Though what she did not realise was that many of the qualities driving that success stemmed from something she had never considered.

A period of severe burnout eventually led to being diagnosed with both ADHD and autism at age 40.

The diagnosis helped explain why she could walk into a room and instinctively understand how people were feeling and why she could quickly identify solutions that others struggled to see.

It also explained why sustaining that level of performance for many years had come at a significant physical and mental cost.

“Doctors told me that my brain and body had been working at this pace for such a long time, eventually my body told me I had no choice but to slow down,” she says.

Invisible costs

The challenge, she says, was that sustaining a high-level of performance required a huge amount of energy and for much of her career, that cost was invisible.

While colleagues saw someone highly organised and in control, Hacker often went home exhausted, needing time alone after social situations and struggling with sensory overload, emotional dysregulation, and difficulties with everyday organisation.

“People regularly refer to me as ‘Superwoman’,” she says. “By the time I got home, I had no energy left. I had spent all my energy and attention getting everything right at work.”

“When I got my diagnosis, my mum said to me, ‘Does this explain why you’re always on time for work, but always late for family?’”

Time blindness - an inability to sense how much time has passed or how much time remains - is a common trait associated with ADHD.

At the time, her mother assumed it reflected priorities. “She just thought, you didn’t care about us.”

“I said no, no, no. I'm genuinely trying to be on time,” she says.

A wake-up call

Looking back, Hacker believes she had been operating in burnout status for at least a year before fully recognising what was happening.

The experience of burnout was a wake-up call and her later diagnosis forced her to stop and reassess almost every aspect of her life.

She immersed herself in research, worked with an ADHD coach, undertook cognitive behavioural therapy and examined everything from sleep and exercise to work habits and relationships.

“I did a 360 review of my entire life,” she says. One theme emerged repeatedly. “Boundaries were the biggest area that needed to change,” she says.

I did a 360 review of my entire life.

For years, much of her identity had been built around being capable, available and dependable. She was the person who stepped in, the person who sorted things out and the person who could always take on one more thing.

Burnout forced her to ask different questions about her lifestyle and priorities.

“How do I want to show-up for my children and family? How do I want to take care of myself? I don’t want to sit in a dark room alone for hours just to rebalance myself enough to even start thinking about the next thing,” she says.

Learning to say no

Hacker began resetting expectations and having conversations with people who had grown accustomed to her always stepping in and fixing things.

“I've lived and worked in a certain way for 40 years and now I need to relearn,” she says.

Part of that challenge comes from the culture of the legal profession itself.

“Generally in law, people don't say no,” she says. “We're asked and we do.”

Generally in law, people don't say no.

For Hacker, it meant establishing new boundaries and recognising that being helpful did not require being available for everything.

“I’m now confident that the activities I am prioritising are enhancing my performance, producing the best outcomes and adding value to both my work and personal environments.”

Beyond awareness

One of the biggest misconceptions, she says, is the assumption that neurodivergent people fit a standard profile, often shaped by portrayals of eccentric geniuses in films or high-profile figures such as Elon Musk. In reality, experiences can vary enormously depending on the individual, the environment and the pressures they face.

She also believes people often focus too heavily on challenges while overlooking strengths.

“I have lots of challenges, but I’m developing ways to ensure they are all as manageable as possible for my current environment. There are things that I can do that other people can’t do. It is something to be really positive about and really proud of,” she says.

That perspective has shaped how she thinks about the workplace. Many of the adjustments that support neurodivergent professionals, she believes, would improve working life more broadly: clearer boundaries, better workload management, empathetic leadership and helping people play to their strengths.

“You are always going to get much more out of individuals who feel supported and understood on a personal level,” she says.

Today, Hacker uses her own experience to support her employer's diversity and inclusion efforts as a senior leader champion for the legal function and a member of its disability awareness steering group.

The biggest shift for Hacker has been recognising that capability and capacity are not the same thing. The qualities that made her successful remain unchanged, but she now has a better understanding of what it takes to sustain them.

Today, protecting her energy remains a work in progress. “It's a lifelong learning activity,” she says.