This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Naseem Rochette, a 54-year-old account director at Databricks, based in New Jersey. The following has been edited for length and clarity.
My approach to life drastically changed in 2018 when I was hit and run over by a car. By that evening, the multitasking woman who thrived in chaos for so long vanished, and she has never returned.
I’ve been in tech for 25 years, and before my current position, I spent most of the last decade in different leadership roles at Google and Microsoft. Since getting run over, I don’t operate in the same way.
I have a traumatic brain injury now, and I’m neurodivergent. So, much of day-to-day life can be a trigger for me or make me uncomfortable.
I thought my condition would be a disadvantage for my career. However, my ability to be more vulnerable, share my journey, and connect with people in ways I hadn’t before gave me a stronger foundation to solve harder problems, and I became a better leader and advocate for myself because of it.
I worried how I was ever going to be good at my job again
It took a while to recover. I went back to work at Microsoft after a few months, which was too early, but I felt like I had to rush back because we had a big conference coming up.
Over the course of a year or two, I realized how my abilities were shifting. One of the things that really changed was that I could no longer manage a hundred things or thrive in that type of chaotic workflow. I became much better at focusing on five things in a deeper way.
I was really worried about how I would ever be good at what I do again. I couldn’t see the rewards of focusing on a few bigger problems instead of a ton of little ones. I had to accept that I was different now and navigate explaining that to those around me.
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My neurodivergence changed the way I ran meetings
Most people, myself included, haven’t been made aware of the need for neurodivergent sensitivity. I had never thought about it until I was neurodivergent.
I transitioned into a leadership role at Google after Microsoft. There, employees made user guides to explain the way we work, and when I got to Google, I made a before-and-after one to explain how my working style had changed since my accident. Once I was able to articulate and understand that there was a change, I could talk more easily about it.
It was interesting to see the differences between my before-and-after user guides. Some of the main ones are that I don’t like phone calls and can’t listen to voicemails anymore, I can’t multitask, which used to be a strength of mine, and I don’t like attending big conferences or late-night networking events anymore.
When I ran large meetings in the past, I always told participants to just jump in with questions; I never realized how hard that could be. After the accident, it became hard for me to do that. Now, I always give multiple ways people can jump in, including sending a text or a note afterward that we can follow up on.
At the beginning of meetings, I also share that I don’t communicate or operate the way I used to. This opens the door for other people to share with me some of the unique ways they work, so we can figure out how to best communicate ideas.
Recognizing how my work needs differed from the norm made all the difference
There would be meetings at Google that started with loud music to build excitement, and I couldn’t engage because it suddenly hurt to be in that environment.
Whenever something like this happened, it was anxiety-inducing to decide whether to ask to turn the music down or take the time to explain why it bothered me. I didn’t want to change the environment for everyone, which made it hard to navigate.
In those meetings, I started explaining that I couldn’t kick off the call with loud music, so I’d join three minutes after, but I wasn’t late or forgetting about the meeting.
I can’t go out with a client to a jazz club or stay out late for drinks anymore. I won’t be at those conferences or on work trips that require that type of interaction. If I have to be at these events now, I always want people to know or be reminded that there are sensitivities.
I celebrate the day of my accident as a holiday; we call it Unbreakable Day
I decided that my story would be a happy one. That positive bias reframing was so important for my progress.
Neurodivergence gives people unique qualities and abilities, and being proud of those and owning them can be hard. Maybe there are some things I can’t do, but there are some things that I’m more comfortable doing now, and I own that. I wasn’t comfortable sharing my vulnerabilities pre-accident, and now that’s a huge strength of mine.
I’ve had the opportunity to mentor young people and help other people navigate what they’ve been through, whether it’s a trauma or a divergence. I always bring up having an inventory of wins. What are the things that you’ve navigated? What are the things that you can draw strength from, and what are the things that are hard for you?
Vulnerability is my new strength at work
This year, I joined the software company Databricks as an account director. If you go into any new job or interview, having a better sense of yourself and your limits, it’s going to be a lot easier to put yourself in a position for success.
After my accident, I had to be more deliberate with my communication. I also had to be kind to myself and not judge myself, or I would never make progress. I now see the benefits and value of the new me and have learned that vulnerability is a huge part of good leadership. Pretending that you can do something you can’t isn’t good for anyone.
Do you have a career story to share? Contact this reporter, Agnes Applegate, at aapplegate@businessinsider.com.
