My Journey in Understanding Neurodivergence

I conducted interviews with individuals who were either neurodivergent themselves or had experiences of being in relationship with neurodivergent people at work and in their private lives. What I came to realise is that to create a more neuroinclusive world, I need to question and reflect on my current ways of being. How often do you challenge the beliefs and assumptions you hold about how life works? What values do you hold dear? How do you see and hold difference?

When I ponder my answers to these questions, honestly, I realise that whilst I thought I was embracing difference, I am a black woman in her sixties after all, I was upholding a position of privilege from belonging to the neuro-majority. I thought I was so good at reading people that I could build strong relationships with anyone in which they felt safe to be themselves. I have discovered that this is not as simple as being my authentic self, showing vulnerability and warmth towards another. As well as positive interactions, such as feeling seen and heard, there were some unintended and not looked for consequences of my behaviour that resulted in the neurodivergent person ruminating on what I had said, sensing pressure to meet my expectations, feeling unsupported.

I have learnt some important lessons over the past 18 months that guide my interactions and how I show up in any space regardless of whether I know the persons I am meeting are neurodivergent or not.

These include:

1.          Each neurodivergent person is unique

The neurotypes that are used to categorise neurodivergence (e.g. autistic, ADHD, dyspraxic) are broad. Human beings like simplicity and short cuts to make sense of our world so we resort to stereotypes to classify individuals. Neurotypical people, without direct experience of neurodivergence, often think we know how a typical autistic person or someone with ADHD behaves or what it means to be dyslexic. This often leads to neurodivergent individuals being gaslighted or suffering microaggressions because they don’t fit our stereotypes. If an autistic person is articulate, and does not visibly stim (by rocking), they are told, ‘You don’t look autistic’, which is expressed as a compliment i.e. the subtext is that to be autistic is a bad thing. This is a terrible denial of who the individual is.

I have been guilty of holding stereotypical views of autistic people, which came from my limited experience of being with individuals who were non-verbal, withdrawn at social gatherings, and so on. From my increased exposure to the neurodivergent community, I recognise that whilst there are common traits of strengths and challenges for each neurotype, no two individuals with the same diagnosis will experience life in the same way. I have grasped the wisdom of treating each person as unique and spending time getting to know them in their fullness and not shortcutting this process by reverting to stereotypes.

2.         Extend grace and be curious

If I encounter someone who is behaving in contrast to the norm, for example, being direct and forthright rather than finessing their communication, being late or ‘no show’ for meetings, I now pause to enquire what else might be going on. Rather that assume they are rude or disrespectful, I try to understand what is happening. I do this by reflecting on what I have experienced with them, either directly or observing them with others, to identify potential patterns. They may speak in a direct and abrupt manner to everyone. They may not engage in social chit chat and focus on the task in hand as routine. They may interrupt others to make a point.

If the context is right, for example, in a coaching session or one-on-one conversation, I can gently probe to understand more about the individual, how they tick, and what is driving the specific behaviour. I have been privately humbled by learning about the challenges someone with time agnosia has with being on time for meetings. Not because they are being wilful or discourteous but because they have a different relationship to time than I do. It was a powerful challenge to my assumption that they were not valuing me or my time and a lesson in suspending judgement and creating the space to really listen to the other person.

3.          What are my implicit demands

I pride myself that I connect with others in a genuine and congruent way. I have a desire to get to know people and build strong relationships in which they feel safe to open up and explore deep issues. I do this by being open and vulnerable in what I share as an implicit invitation for the other person to do the same. I thought this was enough to build a trusting relationship with others. I have discovered that for neurodivergent people it is not so simple. For example, stating my needs from the relationship can put pressure on the other person to meet those. Whilst this is true of everyone I encounter, it can be heightened with neurodivergent individuals because of a lifetime of negative messages that they are wrong, too much, difficult etc. As a result, they learn to subsume who they are and please others. This comes at a great expense to themselves because they need to mask who they truly are and bend to the will of others. Thus, my hopes, fears and expectations may be interpreted as a demand that needs to be fulfilled by some neurodivergent people and cause them anxiety or to worry.

My learning is not to dismiss these wishes but to be aware of the potential impact my expressing them can have and enquire about that

4.         Tension in relationships is normal and healthy.

Naturally, I want to ‘get it right’ every time with every connection that I make. I want to engage with neurodivergent people perfectly every time so that they feel at ease in my presence and able to be themselves. Cognitively, I know that this is unlikely. There are frictions in any relationship. We say and do things that upset others frequently, so why do I place this expectation on myself when engaging with neurodivergent individuals? I think in part it stems from my compassion, neurodivergent individuals are likely to have experienced a lot of adversity and I don’t want to add to that.

There is an extra layer of complexity in the communication between neurotypical and neurodivergent individuals due to ‘double empathy’. When people with different experiences of the world interact, they may struggle to empathise with each other, particularly when there are differences in communication styles and use of language. This phenomenon is most commonly recognised as occurring between autistic and allistic (i.e. not autistic). Allistic people believe that the autistic person is the source of the problem. However, the theory suggests that the double empathy problem arises due to a lack of reciprocity and mutual understanding.

What I now believe is more important, is to build a strong enough bond in my relationships so that when there is tension, we can explore this in a mature and calm way. We can test our assumptions and inferences so that our responses, to what we see and hear from each other, are grounded in reality and not a story that we make up in our head. The sign of a strong relationship is that it can weather the storms that occur.

In conclusion

To sum up what I have learnt so far on this journey is to be humble, curious and open and let go of any feelings of superiority and knowing. If I adopt my principle of acting with courage, compassion and wisdom in everything that I do, I will meet neurodivergent people where they are not where I think they should be.