When ‘Professional’ Feels Impossible

Last week, I was invited to speak at Parliament about the challenges women in tech face.
Big moment, right?

But honestly, the hardest part wasn’t the panel. It was getting there - and staying.

That morning, one of my sons - who’s neurodivergent - had a meltdown. It was about a missing coat. But really, it was about so much more. Tears, hiding, hard words. It wobbled me. And I couldn’t shake it.

I’m also undiagnosed neurospicy, and heading into a formal, unfamiliar building filled with strangers and echoey halls? It’s a lot. It triggers me. I feel it in my body. And when I’m already wobbled, masking becomes nearly impossible.

I’ve learned - I can’t fake being fine anymore.
Not without consequences.

In the past, I’ve tried to put on the brave face. Smile. Nod. Be “professional.”
But when I do that in a space that’s so far out of my comfort zone, I know what happens - it unravels.
And it’s not pretty.

So these days, when I feel that way, I try to tell someone.
Even if I barely know them.

That day, it was Grace. She had a cough, triggered by the dust in the carpet. I offered to get her some water - because I knew what that’s like, trying to hold it all together while your body has other plans. We shared a moment. I told her I’d had a tough morning, that I was struggling to shift gears. She shared something too. Then to really advocate for myself I told Iana too who had invited me to share my thoughts at the roundtable. I was met with nothing but empathy.

These were human connections at their best.
Not performative. Not curated. Just kind.

That small act - of me saying out loud that I was wobbling - was everything.
It’s hard to explain, but the moment I tell someone, it’s like the poison starts to drain out of my body. The anxiety loosens its grip. I feel a bit safer. More me.

I think over time I’ve developed a kind of radar - the ability to sense who can hold that space. Grace could. Iana could. And I’m so grateful.

Later, my husband asked how I felt.
The honest answer? Relieved. That I didn’t bolt.
Proud. That I stuck it out.
And while I maybe didn’t say everything as eloquently as I’d hoped - I blurted a bit, like I do - I stayed. I showed up. Fully me.

And next time? I’d do a couple of things differently.
I’d bring my headphones- because a quick listen to “My Day, My Way” might have helped me reset.
And I’d wear something that felt more me, not more Parliament.
Because for me feeling grounded includes feeling comfy and me in my clothes. And sometimes, it starts with telling someone you’re not okay.

I also shared the real version of this story with my sons.
Not just the shiny “Mum spoke at Parliament” version - but the messy, human one.
The one where I showed up even though it was hard.
The one where I didn’t run.

Because I want them to know: showing up as yourself is the win.

To anyone juggling the chaos of caring, parenting, neurodivergence, anxiety, and still trying to “perform” in the world -
You’re not alone.
You’re doing more than enough.
And sometimes, just not running is the most powerful thing you can do.

P.S.
If you’re heading into a day that feels like a lot, maybe take five minutes for yourself.
The “My Day, My Way” session in the Clementine app was made for wobbly mornings like mine.
It’s short. Calming. And it might just be the pause you need.

Kim Palmer - Founder, Clementine