My understanding of leadership started with childhood jobs and high school sports, continued through military service, and developed further over more than 20 years in professional settings working with different leaders and shareholders.
Some taught me how to lead. Others gave me examples I’ve spent my life trying not to repeat.
I’ve seen leaders protect their people, own their mistakes, and handle pressure without making everyone underneath them miserable. I’ve also seen people let their position convince them they could treat others however they felt that day.
One thing I’ve learned about myself: I can handle correction, disagreement, and hard conversations. Being disrespected or yelled at crosses a line.
And with my particular flavor of neurospicy, an unfair situation doesn’t conveniently disappear from my brain when the conversation ends.
Welcome to that corner of High Functioning Chaos.
When the Rules Depend on Who You Are
Favoritism gets under my skin. Whether it comes down to who someone is related to, how much they suck up, or whether they belong to the good ol’ boys club, I struggle with watching different standards apply to different people.
The bigger issue is the leadership that allows it.
Having relatives or friends work together isn’t automatically a problem. The problem starts when those relationships determine whose mistakes get excused, whose work gets scrutinized, and whose concerns deserve an answer.
I take expectations seriously. Tell me what my responsibilities are, where the boundaries sit, and what success looks like. I might ask questions because I want to understand.
But when the explanation and the behavior don’t match, my brain keeps working on it.
Did I misunderstand? Is there context I’m missing? Did the expectations change? Why did the same behavior get two different responses?
I’m speaking for myself here, not every neurodivergent person. For me, inconsistency can become a mental tab that refuses to close.
“That’s just how things work” leaves that tab wide open.
Your Feelings Aren’t a Performance Review
Experience and knowledge matter. I’ve learned plenty from people who knew more than I did.
But knowing a lot—or believing you do—doesn’t give you permission to treat people however you feel.
A leader can become so certain of their own interpretation that there’s no room left for information. A question becomes an attitude. An explanation becomes an excuse. Disagreement becomes disrespect.
Now the conversation is about their feelings toward the person instead of what actually happened.
Business decisions need facts and clear expectations. What was supposed to happen? What happened? What supports the conclusion? What needs to change?
People have feelings. Leaders included. I expect someone with authority to recognize when those feelings are influencing how they evaluate and treat others.
If my work needs improvement, show me where. If I’m wrong, give me the information. I can do something with that.
What My Silence Actually Means
When someone starts yelling at me or speaking disrespectfully, I usually go quiet.
I’m processing. I’m letting their emotions settle without adding mine. I’m giving them an opportunity to hear themselves and correct how they’re speaking to me.
That doesn’t mean the behavior is fine.
Sometimes the other person walks away thinking everything is settled while I’m still considering what happened. Was this a bad moment? Is it becoming a pattern? Can I reasonably expect the next conversation to be different?
My quiet is a pause. What happens during and after that pause affects how much trust I’m willing to extend.
The Three Strikes in My Head
Normally, I give people—and jobs—about three strikes.
It isn’t a formal scoreboard, and I don’t announce every strike. Sometimes a situation warrants an immediate conversation. Other times, I make a mental note and watch what happens next.
People have bad days. I have them too.
What matters is whether they recognize how they behaved and change it. An apology means more when I don’t have to keep having the same conversation.
Each incident affects my trust. I get more careful about what I volunteer for, what I accept at face value, and what I need in writing.
And three strikes isn’t a promise to tolerate anything twice. If someone goes above and beyond to be a dick, that can change the timeline.
That’s my personal approach. Someone else may need a different boundary, and some behavior warrants an immediate response.
The Art of Shielding
One of the qualities I respect most in a leader is the art of shielding.
A good leader doesn’t let every bit of shit roll downhill.
They take pressure from above, work out what actually needs attention, and give their team clear direction without dumping all their frustration along with it.
They also ask questions before assigning blame. Were the expectations clear? Were the resources available? Did their own decisions contribute to the problem?
Protecting a team includes holding people accountable. It also includes speaking up when the team is being given an unfair share of the blame.
Those are the leaders who shaped what I want to bring to my own responsibilities.
Because being asked to step up matters to me. But being told to “stay in your lane” lands differently when I’ve been expected to cover three other lanes during every crisis.
If you rely on my initiative, give me clear boundaries and enough support to use it well.
When My Brain Starts Playing Chess
I’ll own this: repeated disrespect can bring out my determination to get the last word.
I want to defend my dignity, correct the record, and make sure what happened can’t be brushed aside.
That’s when the part of being neurospicy I sometimes call my superpower kicks in. I document. I learn the policies. I compare what was said with what was done. I patiently challenge inconsistencies and escalate with evidence when necessary.
It can feel like a game of attrition chess. I’m willing to understand the process and follow it through.
But I have to check that impulse too.
The record needs to be accurate, including facts that challenge my interpretation. And I need to know what I’m working toward: a correction, clearer expectations, a formal review, or a decision about whether I can keep working in that environment.
Otherwise, “getting the last word” can become an exhausting project with no finish line.
I have kids, school, and a life that need my attention. I don’t want someone else’s poor leadership occupying my head long after I’ve clocked out.
If You Haven’t Built These Boundaries Yet
You don’t have to arrive with perfect confidence, a polished response, or a folder full of documentation.
Maybe you freeze. Maybe you apologize before you’ve figured out whether you did anything wrong. Maybe you spend the drive home thinking of everything you wish you’d said.
You can start with one small tool.
Give Yourself a Sentence You Can Remember
When I’m overwhelmed, finding the right words can be harder than recognizing that something is wrong. Having a sentence ready takes some pressure off.
Try:
“I’m willing to discuss the concern. I need us to speak respectfully.”
Or:
“I need a moment to process this before I respond.”
If you need specific feedback:
“Can you explain what happened, what was expected, and what you need me to change?”
You don’t have to deliver a speech. One clear sentence can give you somewhere to start.
Decide What You Will Do
A boundary is more useful when it includes an action you can take.
“I don’t want to be yelled at” identifies the problem. A practical next step might be:
“If the yelling continues, I’ll ask to pause the conversation and resume it with another person present.”
Choose a response that fits your circumstances and responsibilities. You may have limited room to step away, especially in a role where someone depends on your immediate attention. A later follow-up or request for a supported meeting can still be a boundary.
Get the Facts Out of Your Head
You don’t need a complicated system. A dated note can help you stop relying entirely on memory.
Record:
- When and where the interaction happened.
- Who was present.
- What was said or done, as accurately as you can remember.
- The work issue or expectation involved.
- What happened afterward.
Separate direct quotes from paraphrases and facts from interpretations. “Raised their voice and interrupted me three times” is more specific than “was trying to intimidate me.”
Use a permitted place to keep notes, and follow workplace rules for confidential information. You don’t need to collect unrelated private material to document your own experience.
Confirm Expectations in Writing
A short follow-up can reduce confusion:
“To confirm my understanding, the expectation going forward is ____. My responsibility is ____, and I should contact ____ if that situation happens again. Please let me know if I missed anything.”
This gives the other person an opportunity to clarify and gives you something concrete to refer back to.
Learn the Process Before You Need It
Find out where concerns are supposed to go. Read the relevant policies. Know what options exist if the person involved is your direct supervisor.
If you decide to escalate, organize the concern around specific incidents, the effect on the work, and the outcome you’re requesting.
“I’d like future performance conversations to include clear examples and another person present” gives someone a concrete request to consider.
Let Yourself Respond Later
Going quiet doesn’t prevent you from addressing something afterward.
You can say:
“I’ve had time to process our conversation. I want to address how it was handled and clarify the expectations.”
You’re allowed to need processing time. You can return with a clearer response once you have it.
Decide What “Enough” Looks Like
Before you spend days building your case, ask yourself what would resolve the concern.
Do you need the record corrected? A clear instruction? A change in how conversations happen? Support from another person?
Also consider what you’ll do if nothing changes.
You may need time to plan your next step. Work pays bills, and responsibilities don’t disappear because leadership disappoints you. Building boundaries can be gradual. Start with the action you can realistically take.
What I’m Still Learning
I can recognize unfairness and still misunderstand part of a situation. I can have a valid concern and need to improve how I express it.
I want accountability to include me.
I’m also learning that I don’t have to fix every problem I notice. I can raise the concern, support it with facts, and make a decision based on the response.
My experiences—from early jobs and sports to military service and professional life—have shaped what I expect from leadership. Respect. Consistency. Clear direction. A willingness to protect the team and own mistakes.
Those are standards I want to practice myself.
And when I go quiet, I’m giving the conversation a chance to get there.