The Prism Effect: Data Analyst Rebecca Eby on Neurodivergence and STEM Career Success

Written by Rachel Stewart, Content Director and Co-Founder

I sat down with Data Analyst Rebecca Eby to discuss her recent diagnosis with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) at age 44, how it suddenly made sense of a lifetime of being told her brain works differently, and why her preference for facts over feelings has been both her greatest strength and biggest challenge in navigating a career in STEM.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. 

You and I have been friends for almost 15 years! We’ve seen each other through it all – relationships, jobs, never-ending stacks of to-be-read books… How would you like to introduce yourself to ROSE?

Ha! My dad was in the military, so I’ve done a lot of traveling, and that’s given me a unique perspective. I have two diplomas: one in Chemical Technology and another in Computer Technology specializing in Information Systems. In my career, I’ve been a lab rat, a project manager, a business analyst, and now I’m a data analyst.

You were diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) earlier this year. What prompted you to look into this?

As long as I can remember, people have told me my brain works differently. I’ve had people from several jobs say they’ve never seen anyone work the way I do. Over the years, I’ve figured out how to use this difference to my advantage, but the difference was still obvious. Remember when we were working at a bookstore? If you showed me a picture of a book, I could immediately tell you where it was: “It’s on the chair next to the ‘History’ section, even though it belongs in ‘Biography’.” 

Last year, my work hosted a session on neurodivergence in the workplace. I attended and kept noticing how much I could relate to what they were talking about. Afterwards, I talked to some of my coworkers, and they said they didn’t relate at all. I was like, “Huh… okay.”

Around that same time, there were some difficult conversations happening about my career progression, and I wasn’t handling it well. I would get so frustrated and have full-on meltdowns. I’d dismiss my own feelings as “I’m just tired, burned out, hormonal, etc., etc.,” but I knew that I wasn’t acting like my usual self. I also knew that this wasn’t the first time in my life that these meltdowns had happened. 

So I made an appointment with my doctor. We did a bunch of blood work, and hormonally, I’m in early-stage perimenopause and am pretty much perfectly healthy – yay, hot flashes! This was good news but didn’t provide all the information I needed. I thought, “Well, let’s look into this neurodivergence thing.” I found someone who could evaluate me, made the appointment, and away I went.

When you got your diagnosis, what first went through your mind?

Suddenly, so many things made sense. I could reflect back on several moments in my life and be like, “Okay, that’s what was happening there.” Getting diagnosed put a lot of pieces into their logical place. I kept thinking, “Well, what does this change? I’m 44 years old. I am who I am.” The only change I could see was having some conversations with my husband or my supervisor about things like, “Hey, I’ve learned this about myself. If I’m acting a certain way, here’s why. Let’s talk about strategies moving forward.” 

I bet that preference for facts and logic has been a big asset to you as a woman in STEM.

It’s funny – I was always better at math because math is math, right? I didn’t like physics because it felt like wordy math, which I didn’t enjoy as much. Chemistry is letters and numbers – thermodynamics isn’t straightforward, right? – and I enjoyed that challenge and decided to pursue it in post secondary.

But I was also the student in our high school where, when the teachers got new computer software, they’d have me learn it first and then train them how to use it afterwards. I could learn really quickly. I could also test the limits. In my career, if a software or process is labeled as “unbreakable,” I guarantee I can break it. Someone might say, “Well, why would you click that or do a step that way?” and I just respond, “Who can stop me? A new user isn’t going to make the same assumptions as you.”

Ah, so facts and logic – but not rules!

No. Not rules. I challenge rules routinely. I have to understand the rule for it to be applicable to me. Obviously, there are exceptions – the law is the law. I’m what Dungeons & Dragons calls lawful good but not in real life much to my husband’s chagrin, and that’s accurate for me. But when it comes to rules for processes, systems, and environments, I will challenge it if it doesn’t make sense. Whatever I’m working on, I want to make it better. If there isn’t data or logic to back up why something is the way it is, I’m going to ask a lot of questions.

As a neurodivergent woman in STEM, have there been things about the workplace that you’ve noticed that maybe a neurotypical person wouldn’t see?

I used to make people cry. 

Generally, I’m pretty non-emotional. I like to be factual. For a lot of people, this can be off-putting, so I had to figure out how to translate that for work and at home. It was really hard learning how to manage interactions with coworkers. STEM work is a very factual, logical space, and you’d think my communication style would complement that, but people—even in STEM!—have feelings at work.

I also think there was some intimidation, too. I am often the go-to person in my workplace. I’m a great resource. I can translate complex systems into simple steps. Clients always love me. But my colleagues were afraid to approach me, and I could never understand why. Looking back, it had a lot to do with how I was delivering information. I’ve learned to put on a social mask to be successful. I document everything. I’m good at customer service. I know how to deliver bad news in a way that keeps clients happy. But the mask comes with a trade-off. I come home, and I’m exhausted. If I have a full day of meetings, I just want to crawl into bed and do nothing – not even watch TV.

Thinking of your diagnosis as information, how did you know how to stay true to yourself?

I’ve been in my current role for almost five years, so I know most of the people I work with internally and externally. I didn’t share my diagnosis with the world, but it helped me change the conversation about who Rebecca is and how she does her best work. I can now say, “These are the signs we can watch out for.” I’m normally a very engaged person in any meeting. In fact, I am often brought into meetings because leaders know I will ask the tough questions. If you see me withdrawn, that’s a signal something’s not right.

I think you’re touching on something so important – you’re logical and fact-driven, but you’re not uncaring.

Ha, no!

It sounds like your logic and fact-drivenness is actually part of how you express care.

Yes. In therapy, I’ve learned that my autism and ADHD balance each other quite well. I think of my autism as a prism. I can take all the information I’ve been given, look at it from different angles, push it through the prism, and know that whatever comes through the other side – a decision, a prototype, a process, etc. – will fit the information and logic that define it. If I’m told I’ve done something wrong, that means I did not have all the necessary information when I needed it, and we’ll have a problem. I’ll feel guilty, you might not understand my reaction, and I won’t understand your reaction to my reaction.

What does a neurodivergent-friendly workplace look like for you?

I don’t know yet. I’ll have days where I can be productive and social with my colleagues, and everything’s fine. But then I’ll have days where I’m trying to get work done, and everything is incredibly distracting. I’ll get so mad and so frustrated that I’ll be almost to the point of tears at my desk. So what do I do? I try to correct one source of stimulation with another and turn on my music. But people don’t understand that noise-canceling headphones only help so much – I can still see their movements and smell their leftovers spinning in the microwave. There isn’t a breakout room on my floor that I can book. The only real option is to go for a walk, but that comes with guilt of not getting the work done.

Now, I can usually wake up and know if I am going to have one of those days. I’ve been able to learn the signs, and fortunately, my supervisor has made accommodations for me to occasionally work from home if I wish. It’s good for me and good for them. Everybody’s happy.

Let’s talk about “neurodivergent superpowers.” Does that phrase resonate with you?

Yes. I can find things faster than most people. You can give me an Excel file with thousands of rows, and I can just sit there, press “page down,” and find the problem in minutes. Without looking too hard, I can take data from multiple sources, turn it into information, and tell the story of what all that means – and it doesn’t take me days, weeks, or months. It takes me hours.

Amazing.

Right? I remember my husband was looking for something in the pantry, and he kept saying, “No, we’re all out,” and without getting up from my spot in the other room, I shouted, “Second shelf, very back, on the left.” After a pause, he was like, “How on earth did you do that?”

What’s something you’re still trying to figure out as a neurodivergent woman in STEM?

I am still trying to figure out how it affects my career path. I’ve been a manager before, and I’m good at it, but I don’t want to lead people. I want to stay where I thrive, which is working with data and helping people understand it. I’m still trying to figure out how that looks. So much career progression is managerial-based. If I move laterally to a new part of a business, how can I bring impact there? Will a lateral move even feel like progression? I don’t know, but I do know I don’t want to be doing the same thing forever. I’m always looking for my next challenge.

If you could talk to 20-year-old Rebecca as she was taking her first steps into her STEM career, what would you say to her?

Ha, you’re asking me an emotional question!

I would explain the facts: “You have ASD1 and ADHD. This is going to cause some relationship issues and challenges, and you’re going to have to work through that to be successful. These are your triggers. You’re going to need these things.” And I know past Rebecca would have gone, “Oh, that makes sense,” and then who knows where I’d be now.

I love how you answered an emotional question with information because I guarantee there are readers who will feel seen with your response. You’re being true to who you are, which hopefully means others will feel empowered to do the same.

Yes. Ultimately, I know I have strengths in certain spaces. When you’re 20, you might not know what your strengths are yet, but knowing yourself might give you the confidence to keep a lookout. What do you like? What ties your interests together? You don’t need to evaluate yourself – you just need more information.

When we ended our chat, I found myself thinking about that prism again – how Rebecca takes in all the noise and chaos of information and refracts it into something clear and actionable. It’s what makes her exceptional at her job. And now, armed with the language to explain how her brain works, she’s doing the same thing with her own story.