This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Himal Mandalia, 45, who lives in London. The following has been edited for length and clarity.
I had a difficult childhood, and I missed a lot of school. When I hit my 20s, I didn’t know what I wanted to be, so I floated between jobs. By age 32, in 2012, I’d reached a low point and felt my life was going nowhere.
What I achieved in the following 10 years went beyond my wildest dreams.
In 2013, I landed a job as a software developer for a content marketing agency. I’d been coding as a hobby since I was young, and had relevant volunteer projects under my belt, but this formally kick-started my career in technology. By 2021, I was the head of technology for the UK government’s official website.
In 2022, at age 42, I took a six-month break from work. It turned into 3½ years, and I traveled the world, but I found that I couldn’t slow down. It unearthed hard truths about myself that I had to address.
At first, I was anxious about explaining my career break on my résumé, but I realized that people often take long career breaks to be parents, and I had reparented myself.
In the process, I learned to accept myself and be more present in the moment, which has been life-changing.
I experienced a meteoric rise in my career
I hadn’t planned to work for the government, but when I started doing contract work for a department in 2014, I fell in love with designing services to support people’s needs. In 2021, I got the job as the head of technology for GOV.UK, which felt like a huge achievement.
After more than a year in the role, I reached a natural point where I needed a break from my career and could comfortably afford one, and left my job in April 2022. I didn’t know what I wanted to do next in my role, and also had personal issues related to my difficult childhood to address.
I discovered my need for control during my career break
Courtesy of Himal Mandalia
During my time off, I wrote my memoir, but realized there was little continuity to the narrative. Plus, even “successful” chapters felt hollow. I decided I needed more time to find out why that was.
I hit the road on an open-ended trip to work on my book and myself. I flew to New Zealand and jumped to a new destination every week, including Bangkok, Singapore, and Ho Chi Minh City.
What struck me during this time was my need for control. Whenever I sat in a café to relax, I felt compelled to plan my next four weeks in a document. I was exhausted and wondered if I’d become the only person to burn out on their career break.
After six months, I made Melbourne my base and slowed down, traveling a little. In mid-2024, at age 44, I drew the line at 18 months of travel and returned to the UK indefinitely.
My travels led to my ADHD diagnosis
I’d always felt different from others, and met some neurodivergent people while travelling.
I was diagnosed with ADHD in October 2024 and autism in May 2025.
The diagnosis and tendencies associated with ADHD explained many of my lifelong patterns. I was often restless and always had to be on the go. I feel like it’s why I pushed myself to travel to new places every week during my break.
I’d also shift from being hyperfocused to disengaged. I could apply extraordinary effort and long hours to something, but it wasn’t sustainable. During my career, I developed a drill sergeant in my head that drove me to sometimes work 80 hours a week, even though no one asked me to. I’d eventually get bored and walk away from things.
Courtesy of Himal Mandalia
ADHD prevented me from sitting still and having a life of continuity, but it also meant I was always learning new skills, and it helped me become successful. It’s not something I can hate.
Medication has helped slow me down, and in early 2025, I started dealing with the emotional baggage that I’d taken around the world. It was like opening a warehouse full of boxes that I was scared to look inside. I had experienced a lot of shame about being different, so I had to forgive how unkind I’d been to myself and get more in touch with my emotions.
By recognizing patterns I’d carried with me, I learned to meet my needs instead of overriding them. I began replacing pressure with permission and built routines that supported me rather than drained me. It also meant accepting myself and allowing myself to simply be, without needing constant stimulation or achievement to justify my existence.
I’ve learned to slow down and enjoy life
Courtesy of Himal Mandalia
In June 2025, I founded a nonprofit called ADHD Pathfinding, focused on improving ADHD care in the UK.
My journey made me realize that the only thing we really have is the moments. There’s a finite number of them, and when they’re gone, that’s it. There’s only one way to make sure you don’t miss them, which is to slow down and be present.
I’ve seen more of the world than most people, but I missed most of it, because I was going too fast. Whatever keeps someone living on fast-forward, whether that’s ADHD, unhealed trauma, or something else, understanding it can make it possible to slow down and feel more connected.
