Nick Ransom

They say nothing lasts forever, and I’ve always believed that. I’m surprised to find that this now applies to my dream career, but I’ve learned that stepping back and moving on can sometimes be the strongest decision you make for your mental health.

​Despite achieving my dream of reporting on air, being a neurodivergent freelancer ultimately took its toll and cost me a place in the industry.

​

For nearly a decade, I glided through the media sphere, from social media to TV entertainment, from reality to documentaries, and finally into journalism.

Like a butterfly, full of wild, whacky ADHD energy, I tried to find a branch to land on, but never did.

​

Rejection sensitivity, typical with ADHD, soaked my wings like rain, and freelancing only intensified it. Being an outsider and living as an outsider, combined with a lack of income, meant I eventually had to fly into another world.

​

My first on air report aired in November 2022, covering LGBTQ+ perspectives on the Qatar World Cup for Sky Sports. There’s a video of me excitedly telling my dog I was on the telly. It was a life defining moment.

​

Over the next few years, I reported 30 to 40 times across the BBC, ITV, Channel 5 and Sky. I covered sport, LGBTQ+ issues and neurodiversity, topics I cared deeply about. But by late 2025, I made the difficult decision to step back from journalism.

​

The truth is that budget cuts across the industry made freelancing increasingly unsustainable. Opportunities dried up, and without a manager or consistent support, it became harder to build momentum or make the work financially viable.

My ADHD diagnosis last year helped me understand why the freelance lifestyle was so draining, but understanding didn’t make it easier to survive.

​

Being diagnosed as autistic at 20 inspired me to push for better representation in the media. Working on Inside Our Autistic Minds with Chris Packham and reporting on neurodiversity were some of the most meaningful moments of my career. My work was often praised for its human centred, non-medicalised approach, something I’m still incredibly proud of.

​

But advocacy alone can’t fix structural issues.

Accessibility, representation and opportunity matter deeply, yet I found myself burning out while fighting every month just to break even. Freelancers, especially those who are neurodivergent, are often left behind in an industry that’s increasingly stretched thin.

​

​Those pressures were compounded by personal trauma in 2024 and 2025. The media world, once a playground and a source of joy, began to feel increasingly unforgiving.​​​

​

I hope one day I might return to media. But the unpredictability and constant change meant I needed stability, and moving into a full-time role in PR and Communications became the best path forward.

​​

I love my current job as a Communications Officer at First Steps Together. A provider of wraparound care to young people throughout their formative years, it's been a joy to work on promoting their specialist schools, transport services and care homes. Together, we've already launched a podcast and new website.

Young people who have so much potential, but so little neurological understanding and investment from business, government and the media, are the people worth fighting for.

​

​Accurate, humanising and ethical portrayals of the 1 in 5 of us who are neurodivergent remain essential, and while I’ll always believe the media can get there, I know this new role still allows me to contribute to that mission.

Since the start of the year, I've felt healthier, happier and more grounded. Yet there’s still a profound sadness in knowing that the industry I idolised for so long didn’t have space for me in the way I needed.

​

I was never happier than I was broadcasting and representing neurodivergent people. I'm hugely grateful to everybody that gave me the opportunity to do that.

But doing your dream job once or twice a month is like dating your childhood crush for only a couple of days at a time.

​

You worship the good days, but the scarcity cuts deep.

Eventually, the imbalance leads to a breakup, not because the love is gone, but because the relationship can’t sustain you. With ADHD, emotions are intensified and dopamine is everything.
​​

Over the years, I gained broad experience across many areas of the media, but that ADHD‑fuelled hyperactivity, passion and excitement sometimes came at the expense of focus, and it meant I couldn’t quite land a permanent role.

Still, I’d much rather step away from the industry than stay in it by becoming someone I’m not.

​

Of course, you can spend your whole life planning out the future, and who knows if I'll return to the media industry, but for now, I'm happy, full of purpose and full of clarity.