Although I started my first full-time job when I was 15, it was more than three decades before I asked for an accommodation at work. This was not because I didn’t want or need changes in my workplace.

I had struggled with aspects of the workplace since my first job at the age of 15. I knew that the bright lights in my office and in meeting rooms made it difficult to concentrate and gave me severe migraines. I knew that the artificial air blowing through the air conditioning vents caused my skin to itch and made me feel ill. I knew that I struggled to shut out the background noise and focus on important conversations. But the idea that it didn’t have to be that way – or that it wasn’t that way for everyone else – was beyond my imagination.

It was my gradual realisation that the struggles my autistic children experienced in the world mirrored my own, and my subsequent autism diagnosis at the age of 50 that made me realise my colleagues did not experience the workplace in the way that I did. But I accepted if I wanted to work, I had to tolerate being in a workplace that was doing me harm.

Working in Melbourne during the Covid-19 lockdowns was an absolute game-changer for me, as it was for many autistic (and non-autistic) people. My home town was famous for being the most locked-down city in the world, with 262 days of restrictions that included “work from home where possible”. For the first time in the 17 years since I commenced in a leadership role, I wasn’t exhausted at the end of each day. I actually had enough energy to eat dinner with my family, to watch television with my husband in the evenings and to go for a walk with my sons on the weekend. I also got more work done than I had in years. My health began to improve. I felt calm, relaxed and happy. I was enjoying my work and I had remembered how to laugh.

I was absolutely dreading the return to “normal”. Almost a year of working from home had given me a really clear sense, for the first time, of what it actually was that I found so challenging and exhausting about my job (and it wasn’t the work). It was the ongoing sensory challenges of bright lights, humming air conditioners and photocopiers, room temperature that I had no control over, clothes with seams and collars that itched and distracted. It was the constant social interaction, from endless meetings to small talk in the kitchen, always worrying whether I had properly interpreted the nuances of the conversation or misread a social cue. It was the ever-present need to mask my natural way of being to fit in; constantly reminding myself not to fidget, to make eye contact, not to speak or move or act in a way that was different to my neurotypical colleagues.

Then, after almost 40 years in the workplace, I decided to ask for workplace accommodations. At the time I was working in a senior leadership position in a university, a role that required me to undertake a range of strategic planning tasks (which I felt comfortable with) and attend countless meetings and events (which I found exhausting).

Finally I knew that I could ask; I had delivered numerous professional development training sessions where I had taught other managers about the importance of providing reasonable adjustments for autistic staff. I wasn’t afraid to ask; one week back in the office after 10 months working at home had shown me that the risks to my wellbeing of not asking were far more serious. And I knew exactly what I was going to ask for: all the things I had established in my work environment and routine when I had control over it that had enabled me to maintain my physical and mental wellbeing, and at the same time be considerably more productive.

I was fortunate to be in a career that allowed me to have a reasonable amount of flexibility in my working arrangements and conditions, and to be in a sufficiently senior position to be able to control many aspects of my immediate work environment. Not everyone is in this situation.

Some of the changes I made to my workspace were having dimmer switches installed in my office, having the air-conditioning vent disconnected, dimming the screen on my computer, purchasing a folding screen to go around my desk, getting a comfy reading chair in my favourite colour, and bringing fidget toys into my office. Some of the changes I made to my working conditions were wearing sunglasses or a cap when meeting in other people’s offices or meeting rooms, ensuring that my dietary needs were considered in catering for meetings and work functions, and negotiating to work from home two days per week.

While some of my colleagues were initially surprised by the changes to my ways of working, they were largely accepting. What helped was having the words to explain why these adjustments were necessary and the support of my direct manager and my team. The visibility of my work adjustments, as a senior leader in the organisation, also empowered other autistic and neurodivergent staff to request the adjustments they needed.

In my experience, it is useful to express the outcomes in terms of the benefits to both yourself and the organisation. For example, in my case: “The fluorescent lights in my office make it extremely difficult for me to focus on my work, and also give me intense headaches. Replacing lights will mean that I am able to focus on my work, be much more productive, and have fewer sick days due to light-induced migraines.”

While some workplace adjustments require employers to invest in building modifications or purchase equipment, many reasonable adjustments can be implemented at minimal or no cost. They require simply that supervisors and colleagues are more understanding of the fact that autistic people experience the world differently from non-autistic people. For me, the biggest improvements in my wellbeing at work came from knowing that my colleagues accepted the ways that I needed to work – that I could wear my sunglasses in brightly lit rooms, wear my headphones in shared working spaces or excuse myself from a meeting if I was feeling overwhelmed.

I would like to say that all of my colleagues were accepting of these changes, but the reality is that some were not. Many autistic people face barriers due to stereotypes and ableist assumptions, including the belief that the neurotypical way of working is the only right way.

Every workplace, like every autistic person, is different; the challenges experienced and adjustments required will vary. However, the starting point for all workplaces is a genuine commitment to understanding the needs of autistic employees, and a willingness to create spaces where we can all work safely and comfortably.

• Austistics at Work by Sandra Thom-Jones is out now (A$34.99, Melbourne University Publishing). She is an honorary professor at the University of Wollongong and independent autism researcher and consultant.