Executive Functioning in Autism and ADHD: Navigating a World Built for a Different Operating System
For much of my life, I thought of “executive functioning” as something invisible that other people simply had. It was the quiet, behind-the-scenes ability to decide what to do, start doing it, and keep going until the job was finished with enough flexibility to pivot when things changed.
I could see it in classmates who started essays weeks before the deadline, colleagues who could switch smoothly between meetings and project work, and friends who could change plans mid-day without missing a beat.
I didn’t have that glide. For me, starting could feel like trying to push open a door that only swung outward when it wanted to. Keeping track of steps in a process was like holding water in my hands any distraction, and the details slipped away. And when plans changed unexpectedly, I often felt physically knocked off balance, as though my mind needed to rebuild its entire scaffolding before I could move forward again.
It wasn’t until I learned about executive functions that I began to understand this wasn’t about laziness, immaturity, or a lack of willpower. These differences were features of how my brain was built.
What Executive Functions Are and Why They Matter
Executive functions are often described as the brain’s “management system” a network of abilities that turns intentions into action, keeps us moving toward our goals, and helps us adapt when life shifts around us. They let us zoom out to see the big picture, then zoom in to handle the next small step. They help us pause before acting, remember what matters in the moment, and regulate the emotional surges that can throw us off course.
While the prefrontal cortex is often called the “command centre” for executive functioning, modern neuroscience makes it clear there is no single control room. These abilities emerge from the cooperation of multiple brain networks:
The frontoparietal network, linking the prefrontal cortex with the parietal lobes, is crucial for goal-directed behaviour and adjusting focus.
The cingulo-opercular network, involving the anterior cingulate cortex and anterior insula, supports maintaining attention over time and detecting when something needs correction.
The default mode network, active during rest and self-reflection, interacts with executive systems to help us consider past experiences and future goals.
The salience network, anchored in the anterior insula, determines what stimuli are important enough to interrupt our current focus and demand a shift in attention.
Uddin (2021) emphasizes that cognitive and behavioural flexibility one of the most important executive skills depends on the smooth interplay between these networks. The prefrontal cortex may decide a plan needs to change, but without timely signalling from the salience network, we might not notice that change is necessary. Without flexible switching between the default mode and frontoparietal networks, we might either stay locked into a routine (autistic rigidity) or jump between ideas too rapidly (ADHD distractibility).
This is why differences in neural connectivity can have such a tangible impact on daily life. In both autism and ADHD, functional MRI studies have found differences in how these networks communicate, particularly in the frontostriatal circuits that link the prefrontal cortex with the basal ganglia areas responsible for initiating action, sustaining it, and switching it when needed (Demetriou et al., 2018; Craig et al., 2006).
The Core Executive Skills (with Brain Connections)
Dawson & Guare (2018) outline twelve core executive skills. Neuroscience adds another layer: each is supported by overlapping but distinct brain circuits.
Response inhibition, pausing before acting; linked to the right inferior frontal gyrus and prefrontal-basal ganglia loops.
Working memory, holding and manipulating information; relies heavily on dorsolateral prefrontal cortex and parietal cortex connections.
Emotional regulation, modulating feelings; involves the ventromedial prefrontal cortex, amygdala, and anterior cingulate cortex.
Task initiation starting a task; tied to the pre-supplementary motor area and basal ganglia activation thresholds.
Sustained attention, keeping focus; supported by frontoparietal and cingulo-opercular networks working in tandem.
Planning and prioritizing, sequencing and setting goals; depends on the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex and orbitofrontal regions for weighing options.
Organization, tracking materials and ideas; involves parietal cortex integration with working memory systems.
Time management, estimating duration; linked to cerebellar-prefrontal circuits and the brain’s internal timing mechanisms.
Flexibility, adapting to change; relies on the salience network to detect shifts and the frontoparietal network to implement them.
Metacognition, reflecting on performance; engages the medial prefrontal cortex and posterior cingulate (parts of the default mode network).
Persistence, continuing despite difficulty; supported by motivation pathways involving the ventral striatum and prefrontal regions.
Stress tolerance, functioning under pressure; draws on prefrontal regulation of the amygdala’s stress responses.
In neurotypical development, these systems mature gradually through adolescence and into the mid-20s, with connectivity between key networks becoming more efficient and adaptable (Dawson & Guare, 2018). In autism and ADHD, these connections often develop differently. Demetriou et al. (2018) found that autistic individuals tend to show more pronounced differences in flexibility, planning, and working memory, while ADHD profiles show greater differences in initiation, sustained attention, and organization.
These differences are not inherently deficits but they can clash with environments designed for the neurotypical “default setting.”
Patterns in Autism: The Anchor and the Hurdle
One of the clearest findings in autism research is reduced cognitive and behavioural flexibility the ability to shift perspectives, strategies, or routines when the situation changes. For many autistic people, routines are not just habits; they are anchors that keep the sensory and emotional world manageable. A sudden change can feel less like an inconvenience and more like an unexpected wave knocking you off your feet.
Hollocks et al. (2019) show that anxiety is significantly more common in autistic adults than in the general population, and higher anxiety levels correlate with lower flexibility. This can create a feedback loop: change increases anxiety, anxiety reduces flexibility, and reduced flexibility makes future changes harder to handle.
From the outside, this can look like stubbornness. From the inside, it feels like preserving stability in a world that shifts too quickly.
Patterns in ADHD: The Challenge of Starting and Sustaining
If autism often intersects with flexibility, ADHD frequently involves differences in task initiation, planning, and organization. Craig et al. (2006) note that ADHD-related executive function differences often centre on activating tasks, sustaining attention, and following through especially when tasks are uninteresting, have delayed rewards, or require prolonged mental effort.
For me, this feels like standing on a mental diving board, fully aware I want to jump, but unable to send the signal to my body. Once I do jump particularly if the task captures my interest I can hyperfocus for hours. But starting is like pushing against an invisible wall.
Dawson & Guare (2018) describe this as a mismatch between intention and execution. External supports alarms, visible cues, step-by-step prompts can act as bridges over that gap, making action possible when the brain’s internal “go” signal falters.
When Autism and ADHD Intertwine
For those of us who are both autistic and ADHD, these patterns don’t just add together they interact.
I may crave structure (autism) but struggle to maintain it (ADHD). I may resist change (autism) yet also seek novelty when bored (ADHD). I may start a task late because my brain won’t “launch” (ADHD), then feel completely thrown when I have to switch gears under pressure (autism).
Living with both can feel like running two operating systems on the same hardware sometimes they sync beautifully, sometimes they crash each other.
Strengths, Supports, and Self-Compassion
The research is clear: supports work best when they are tailored to the individual’s executive function profile, not imposed as generic fixes (Craig et al., 2006; Dawson & Guare, 2018). For me, that means externalizing memory with shared calendars, breaking large tasks into smaller, concrete steps, and pairing less engaging tasks with something stimulating a podcast, a timer race, a “first step only” rule.
But beyond strategy, the deeper work is self-compassion. Understanding my executive functioning patterns has shifted my self-talk from “Why can’t I just…?” to “What does my brain need in order to do this?” That reframing changes everything. It moves the goal from meeting an arbitrary standard of efficiency to finding ways of working that are both sustainable and humane.
Changing the Narrative
Too often, executive functioning is framed in deficit terms, as though there is one correct way to think, plan, and act, and any deviation is a flaw. But the science and the lived experience tell a different story. Our brains are not broken; they are designed for different rhythms, with strengths that may be invisible in a society that prizes speed, multitasking, and constant adaptability.
Uddin (2021) reminds us that flexibility is not the same as compliance it’s about finding ways to adapt without compromising well-being. Hollocks et al. (2019) show that anxiety is not just an add-on symptom, but part of the landscape that shapes how we engage with change. Demetriou et al. (2018) and Craig et al. (2006) show that executive functioning is not a single ability but a constellation of skills, each with its own neural foundations. And Dawson & Guare (2018) show that with the right scaffolding, these abilities can flourish — without erasing the individuality of the brain that uses them.
Executive functioning is not just about “getting things done.” It’s about how we navigate life’s complexity the plans we make, the ways we adapt, the persistence we muster, and the self-understanding we cultivate along the way. For autistic and ADHD people, that navigation may follow a different route. But it is no less valid. And when we are given the right tools, the right understanding, and the right environment, that route can lead to places a straight, efficient path never could.