I made my dream TV show for BBC One… then I quit my job.

Sixteen years ago, coming out of undergrad, I wrote on my CV that I wanted to make TV shows that were going to help people the way my favourite shows helped me when I was a teenager.

Over the last few years, I story produced a show called Death Valley, about a 30-something woman whose life was… changed by a TV show when she was a teenager. 

It’s funny the way life works sometimes.

I had the joy and privilege of working on my dream show with the absolute best, kindest, most talented people. And it healed teenage Laurie in so many ways.

But also in ways I hadn’t expected.

I was diagnosed with autism in the spring of 2023. There’s a term in neurodivergent lingo called ‘regression’, which describes what happens when neurodivergent people are diagnosed. We start to unmask and get in touch with our actual lived experience…. and suddenly our ‘symptoms’ start feeling much bigger… and we become somehow much less ‘able’ than we were before.

And look — I threw myself into the Story Producing job on Death Valley like my life depended on it. One of the things that I have learned about my experience of autism (and adhd), and my deep enthusiasm for things I care about, is that if I put my heart into something… I am going to be really fucking good at it. 

Super Laurie kicks in.

What I’m less good at? Remembering that doing my ‘best’ isn’t supposed to be at the detriment of my own well-being.

It’s fair to say the last few years of my personal life have been a rollercoaster. And I’m not here to tell that story. But at some point between starting production on S1 of Death Valley, and getting the green light for S2…

I realised Super Laurie was gone.

I was exhausted. I couldn't get enough rest to heal. I wasn’t living in a way that accommodated what I’d learned about my neurodivergent experience. As 2024 drew to a close, I realised I had nothing left to give.

Do I regret handing in my notice at BBC Studios Comedy earlier this year, even though it was my favourite job I’ve ever had, so I could focus on rest, and rebuilding a life that works for ME — not the version of me that I wish I was?

Absolutely not.

I miss all the beautiful people I worked with. I also really fucking love everyone who is making S2 of Death Valley as we speak, who are honestly the best and most talented people in the business.

One of my fears about quitting my job was people not understanding. Like, who the heck would leave a permanent job in scripted TV, while they’re producing a massive returning BBC series?

I was blown away by the love and support and kindness I got, not just from friends and family, but also from all my colleagues and the writers I worked with.

I decided to put myself first. I decided to listen to myself. I decided to trust myself.

I guess, at the end of the day, this isn’t about my career, or even about working in TV.

This is about believing it’s never too late to make a change.

I decided that 37-year-old wasn’t too late to rebuild my life in a way that works for my spicy brain and my big fucking heart.

I trusted that I could still make a difference, help people, and be creative, without burning myself out in the process and pushing myself well past my limits and my neurodivergent needs.

Is my life still a work in progress? 100%. 

Have I had to make some big trade offs? Yep.

But I have never been happier. I have never been more confident. 

I have also never been more creative.

This year of adventure has given me the time & permission to fall back in love with storytelling, which is why I wanted to work in TV in the first place. 

This year I wrote and edited several zines, ran four in-person creative workshops, trained as a creative coach, started a new business, performed poetry live, had my poetry featured in a series of articles about poetry, received feedback on my poetry and my work-in-progress, and I’m well on the way to finishing a memoir about how k-nk changed my life and sent me on a huge self-discovery journey.

And honestly? None of this would have happened if I hadn’t allowed myself to believe that it wasn’t too late.