Have you ever found yourself scrabbling down a rabbit hole of trying to fit into a neurotypical structure and suddenly, not surprisingly, being completely burnt out?
Despite everything I have learned about how my brain works and how to best support my mental health, I have in the past felt compelled (because societal expectation dictates you either go back to work or be a ‘stay at home’ mum, right?) to try and squeeze myself into a hole that wasn’t made for me. But even during more successful experiences, when I managed to just about pigeonhole myself into a neurotypical routine, I spent the evenings and weekends in bed or otherwise completely disengaged with my personal life.
And it has a massive impact, doesn’t it? I know I have been in a place where I lost all ability to feel any sense of balance or equilibrium, in a constant state of all or nothing, and it felt like I was failing at everything: work, parenthood, friendship, marriage and just being me – little to no writing was being done! As my self-confidence plummeted, my Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) soared. I might have managed to claw back some of my stores through paying attention to my diet and supplement game, but ultimately, I was rapidly spiralling with no end in sight.
The thing is, taking back control can sometimes feel like giving up, giving in or letting society weigh you down. When you decide to take a leap of faith and reclaim the narrative of your life, people will probably keep calling you ‘brave?’ But why? Because putting yourself first above what society expects of women is seen as an act of defiance? We have all seen the incredible feminist rage speech in Barbie by now, we have all nodded along to it, welled up and agreed that yes, we know what it feels like to never be enough, but also be too much.
But why is it so damn hard? Why does it feel harder than ever to either own or ignore our neurodivergent brains? Well, I reckon it comes down to three main areas:
Late diagnosis and misdiagnosis in a diagnosis obsessed world:
I wasn’t diagnosed with dyspraxia until I was twenty-one and at the end of my education. It was met with a mix of distain and indifference and a lot of assumption about what it meant. At thirty-five, I have finally been referred for an ADHD diagnosis, but there are many incorrect or comorbid (comorbidities are symptoms than span neurodivergent conditions) diagnosis that have been directed at me over the last fifteen years, including but not limited to: generalised anxiety disorder, low mood and depression, endometriosis, hyper mobility syndrome, anaemia, low B12, acid reflux…I could go on. So how was the extent of my neurodivergence, when at times it completely floored me, missed?
So why is this an issue?
Late and delayed diagnosis in a society where self-diagnosis is denied as a valid experience, means that neurotypicals often, and quickly, use blame focussed language to describe a neurodivergents behaviour. Neurodivergent people can be called difficult for questioning what neurotypicals see as normal or acceptable, emotional for not always being able to react with the privilege of calm introspection, judgemental for seeing the flaws in things and wanting to make things better and (my personal favourite) rude for not entertaining sycophantic behaviours — even when neurotypicals first encountering neurodivergent people often praise honesty.
Round hole, square peg – Work and school struggles:
Even in a world of flexible and hybrid working, the workplace and academic settings are designed around neurotypical brains which thrive on rigid schedules, long meetings or lessons and see unrealistic expectations around organisation as a challenge, and focus as a discipline.
So why is this an issue?
These expectations make it hard for a neurodivergent brain to thrive, and because women often mask more it leads to burn out, fast. Neurodivergent brains are all or nothing, they are hyper-focusing and get hours of work done in one sitting or they are procrastinating to the point of physical pain (this is a real experience, look it up). Neurodivergent brains are wired to work for short and productive spurts with lots of short breaks and thrive when given proper down time. The issue is that the neurotypical obsessed world can’t fathom the idea that the same amount of work could be done quicker than they manage to perform, it means that they see the request for less hours as lazy when it’s completely the opposite.
Social stigma and emotional overwhelm:
Women are expected to be naturally organised, emotionally stable, and generally on top of things. They are practical and methodical, polite and don’t complain. They are social and well presented.
So why is this an issue?
Apart from the overwhelming gender stereotyping and sexism…the above things are a privilege that few neurotypicals, let alone neurodivergents, experience. But neurotypical people see it as part of the female role and often believe that bearing it without complaint is part and parcel and so anyone who doesn’t conform is a troublemaker.
Neurodivergents have an overt sense of justice, so they struggle to stay quiet even when the backlash for speaking up is not always something they can bear. RSD means that even when things appear to be running smoothly, they have a near constant fear of feedback – sometimes feedback even feels like a personal attack. RSD can result in over apologising, over explaining or obsessing over details which can lead burn out.
We also are hyper aware of all of our senses at the same time, noise, smells, temperature and texture make a big impact on our ability to regulate.
Emotional dysregulation is something that neurodivergents experience on a physiological level, not dissimilar to a trauma response.
Social stigma means that requests for clear communication and planning conversations or indeed any adjustments that would result in a productive, balanced, and thriving neurodivergent are seen as a liberty and not an access need. Sometimes there is even a resentment at the idea that a non-presenting disability should be considered at all.
What does it mean?
I know, it’s a depressing read, and I’m not a psychologist or medical professional, but like most neurodivergent people I spend an obsessive amount of time trying to understand why I feel the way I do and why neurotypicals find it so hard. There are also some brilliant places and organisations going out of their way to harness the potential of neurocomplex people, here a few recommended sources:
The Good news:
The good news is, we don’t have to kill ourselves trying to fit in a hole not made for us. It seems harder almost, to not confirm, but when society makes your existence so hard, your neurodivergent, outside of the box, big picture thinking, is the solution.
Set yourself some affirmations to rejig the wiring in your brain, next time you experience RSD or overwhelm, repeat them to yourself until you feel calmer. Sometimes ever naming the feeling is enough. This might look like:
1. You are having an RSD reaction, breathe.
2. You are emotionally resilient to a ridiculous degree because of what you must struggle with on a daily basis.
3. You can relate to people on a much deeper level because you have a level of empathy that can’t be learned.
4. You are prioritising your wellbeing. Sure, social situations can feel harsh, loud, painful. But try to go with the flow, when you have capacity then enjoy yourself and when you don’t – your boundaries are #goals
5. Your creative mind is unburdened by conventions and rules, it’s pure and that depth is what makes your work unique – some people will find this a threat, but that is their issue that they need to deal with, it’s not on you.
Ultimately, I know it doesn’t often feel like it, but you have the power to thrive.
Leave a Reply