Matthew Scott Matthew Scott

The Financial Struggles of Neurodivergence: Why Managing Money Feels Impossible (And How I’m Trying to Fix It)

For most of my life, managing money has felt like an insurmountable challenge. It’s not that I don’t understand the importance of financial stability — quite the opposite. I obsess over it, stress about it, and constantly tell myself I need to do better. And yet, despite my intelligence, my ability to handle high-pressure situations as a clinician, and my deep understanding of logic and planning, personal finance remains one of my biggest weaknesses.

I know I’m not alone in this. Many neurodivergent individuals — particularly those with conditions like Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) struggle with financial management. But why? Why is something that seems so straightforward for others so incredibly difficult for us?

The Executive Functioning Roadblock

One of the biggest reasons I struggle with money is executive dysfunction. Executive function refers to a set of mental skills that include working memory, cognitive flexibility, and impulse control— skills that are essential for tasks like budgeting, paying bills on time, prioritizing expenses, or even just remembering due dates.

Research published in Frontiers in Psychology (2020) found that executive functioning challenges are prevalent in individuals with ASD and ADHD, and are linked to difficulties in organizing tasks, time management, and planning ahead — all foundational elements of personal finance.

For me, that means I know I need to budget, but my brain resists sitting down and doing it. Bills sneak up on me because my internal clock doesn’t seem to register urgency until the very last second. And impulse spending? That’s a whole other beast. Sometimes it’s driven by sensory overload and the need for comfort — sometimes by the fleeting dopamine rush that neurodivergent brains crave to self-regulate emotions.

It’s like trying to run a marathon with untied shoes — your mind might be capable, but your footing keeps slipping.

Financial Instability and Employment Struggles

Even though I have a job, the road to financial independence is far from smooth. Neurodivergent individuals often face significant employment barriers — underemployment, job instability, or workplace discrimination.

According to the UK Office for National Statistics (2021), just 29% of autistic adults are in any form of employment, compared to 53% of disabled adults and 81% of non-disabled adults. In the U.S., similar disparities exist — research from Drexel University’s National Autism Indicators Report shows that only 14% of adults with autism held a paid job in the community during their early 20s.

I’ve been fortunate to find a career in paramedicine, where my ability to remain calm during chaos is an asset. But even in this field, workplace dynamics can be socially complex and emotionally draining — especially when coworkers misunderstand, underestimate, or even exploit my neurodivergence.

Financial security isn’t just about earning money — it’s about keeping it, managing it, and recovering from setbacks. But when you’ve spent years being manipulated or excluded, it often feels like you’re constantly trying to dig your way out of a hole someone else buried you in.

Mental Health, Anxiety, and the Money Spiral

The relationship between financial stress and mental health is deeply symbiotic. According to the Money and Mental Health Policy Institute (UK), people with mental health problems are three and a half times more likely to be in problem debt. On the flip side, financial instability can trigger intense anxiety, shame, and emotional burnout.

For me, money becomes a source of dread — something I know I need to face, but often can’t. Anxiety makes me overanalyze even small purchases or freeze entirely when decisions need to be made. I’ll avoid opening bank apps or dealing with bills until it’s unavoidable—by which point the situation is often worse.

This creates a feedback loop:
Anxiety → Avoidance → Missed Payments → More Anxiety → Guilt → More Avoidance.

And layered beneath that is often rejection sensitivity — a trait common in many autistic and ADHD individuals — that turns every financial mistake into a perceived moral failing. Not just “I didn’t pay my bill,” but “I’m irresponsible, I’ve failed again, I’m broken.”

Financial systems don’t make this any easier. Forms are dense, applications for support are overwhelming, and call centre scripts don’t accommodate communication differences. For many neurodivergent people, simply asking for help feels like trying to decode an alien language.

How I’m Trying to Fix It

Despite all this, I refuse to accept that financial chaos is an inevitable part of neurodivergence. I want independence, autonomy, and the peace of mind that comes from knowing I’m in control. So, here are the strategies I’m actively building into my life:

  • Automating Everything
    If I don’t have to remember to pay something, I’m far less likely to forget it. Automatic bill payments, digital reminders, and calendar alerts are becoming my scaffolding.

  • Using Visual Budgeting Tools
    Traditional spreadsheets don’t work for my brain—they’re too abstract. I’ve started using budgeting apps like You Need a Budget (YNAB) or PocketGuard, which offer visual cues and breakdowns that make my spending habits clearer and less overwhelming.

  • Creating “Impulse Spending Buffers”
    Instead of trying to eliminate impulse spending, I set aside a controlled “comfort spending” budget. It allows me to honor my sensory needs or emotional spikes without blowing my financial plan.

  • Seeking External Accountability
    Having a trusted friend or coach check in on my finances keeps me grounded. It makes money less isolating, and it helps reduce shame by turning it into a shared conversation.

  • Addressing the Emotional Side of Money
    I’m trying to unlearn the guilt and shame that surround my financial struggles — recognising they stem not from laziness, but from years of trauma, executive dysfunction, and systemic inaccessibility.

The Road to Financial Independence

I don’t have all the answers. And fixing this won’t be linear — it’s a messy, iterative process. But I refuse to let neurodivergence be synonymous with financial instability. We just need systems that make sense for us.

Our minds aren’t broken — they’re just wired differently. And with enough creativity, community, and compassion, we can build financial frameworks that honor our neurodiversity instead of punishing it.

If you’re in the same boat, know this: you’re not alone, and you’re not failing. You’re just navigating a system that wasn’t built for you. But together, we can reshape the narrative — and carve out a different kind of financial future.

 

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