Scott, thanks for putting words to the knot so many of us are wrestling with — how to celebrate neural variety without diluting the very signal that unlocks real-world support.
Where your argument really resonates:
If every quirk becomes a clinical badge, HR budgets and public-school IEP funding will evaporate; labels lose their power to trigger accommodations.
Reduced stigma is a gift. Late-diagnosed adults I coach often say the label finally let them swap “What’s wrong with me?” for “How do I work with my wiring?”Where my work in companies adds a nuance:
Trait × Context = Impairment. An ADHD engineer in a flow-friendly scrum team may need zero formal supports; the same brain in an open-plan help-desk can burn out in a week. Severity isn’t just biological, it’s environmental.
Self-diagnosis alone rarely unlocks anything at work—legal accommodation processes still hinge on formal evaluation—yet many gifted/ND adults hesitate to disclose at all. We often coach them out of internalised ableism, not victim-performance.
What keeps the term useful is tying it to design levers, not identity politics.
Universal tweaks everyone loves (clear agendas, camera-optional meetings) + opt-in personal adjustments (noise-cancelling stipend) = no one has to prove they’re “ND enough” for basic humanity, while resources remain targeted.
So maybe the next evolution is: “We’re all neurologically unique; some of us need system tweaks to hit the same outcomes.” That keeps the label actionable while honouring the spectrum within the spectrum.
Would love your thoughts on how this trait-context framing might translate in education settings, where the resource crunch is even sharper. Always appreciate your willingness to tackle the messy middle ground.
Well said, everyone being neurodiverse is the same as everyone being ‘a little bit on the spectrum’. Those with a clinical diagnosis, and subsequent challenges, have their experiences minimised because ‘everyone is neurodiverse’.
If a person falls into a fire and suffers third degree burns, we don’t compare the time we lit the gas stove and singed our eyelashes to their experience.
Everyone being neurodiverse is a barrier to widened understanding of how exhausting and difficult it is to navigate the neurotypical world.
Without understanding, where is the motivation for consideration and accommodation.
Scott, I'm sure everyone appreciates not just the big question you raise but your willingness to share something of your own state of mind in social situations to illustrate the challenge here.
Overall, the issue seems to me to mirror the question our country continues to wrestle with: do all lives matter, do Black lives matter, are both statements true and how much relative to one another? Substitute "neurodivergent" for Black and it's a quite a similar issue.
One of the comments here - by Niki Mathias - points out that sensitivity can be seen along a spectrum...and another commenter, Irene Stajduhar, notes that we're all neurodiverse, meaning that we all have nervous systems that work a given way. This idea of a continuum is super important. The late Ernest Hartman (Tufts University researcher) suggested that everyone is constituted along a spectrum of thick-to-thin boundaries, with some people being highly 'thick skinned' on one end and others being highly sensitive on the other. I've always liked that concept because a) I believe it fairly represents reality and b) no one gets unduly pathologized.
That being said, there are outliers and they're the people most in need of assistance. On the thick boundary side are people who are alexithymic and don't necessarily know how they feel. One might consider savants also highly thick boundary, although a trait of many individuals with autism is a pronounced sensitivity, so thin boundary in that respect. My point is that we're all somewhere on a continuum and, depending where we are, conforming to social norms is more or less challenging.
I believe yes, in some ways we all are. I'm an anti cruelty, bullying, lying, criminal, malignant, maleovent, narcissistic, egotistical, unconstitutional & all other things that go into that category. I’m sort of democracy loving & ethical neurodivergent. I really am divergent to it all, not perfect but I really do try for higher ideals & the greater good of/for all. Not political though either
Thanks for opening up such a nuanced and vulnerable conversation. I really connected with a lot of what you shared — particularly the tension between recognising how complex and varied human minds are, while also acknowledging that some differences do reach a threshold where they significantly disrupt daily life.
Like many people, I’ve wrestled with whether the term "neurodivergent" fits me. I relate to some traits associated with autism — challenges with sensory overwhelm, social interaction, rigidity, masking, and emotional processing. These aren’t just quirks; they’ve caused persistent friction in my life, even when I’ve appeared outwardly “functional.”
What I’ve come to realise is this: I’m not chasing a label. I’m trying to better understand myself so I can show up more fully — for my daughter, who is going through her own assessment journey, and for myself, after years of quietly struggling. If the current understanding places these traits under the ASD banner, I’m open to that. But what matters more to me than diagnosis is recognition — of how my brain works, how that’s shaped my life, and how I can work with it rather than against it.
I also share your concern about dilution. If everyone is “neurodivergent,” then it becomes harder to identify who genuinely needs structured support, accommodation, and understanding. But at the same time, I don’t think we need to panic about increased visibility — if anything, we need better tools for distinguishing between temporary resonance and lived, impairing difference.
Your phrase — “difficult to navigate the ordinary world of humans” — really stuck with me. That captures it. The effort of trying to appear “normal” in spaces that weren’t designed for you is exhausting. The relief of being seen, finally, for how you truly experience the world, is profound.
So no — I don’t think everyone is neurodivergent. But I do think more people are waking up to the reality that difference has always been among us — and that naming it can help us find healthier ways to live.
Thank you again for creating space for a dialogue that holds complexity without rushing to conclusion.
Thanks for opening up such a nuanced and vulnerable conversation. I really connected with a lot of what you shared — particularly the tension between recognising how complex and varied human minds are, while also acknowledging that some differences do reach a threshold where they significantly disrupt daily life.
Like many people, I’ve wrestled with whether the term "neurodivergent" fits me. I relate to some traits associated with autism — challenges with sensory overwhelm, social interaction, rigidity, masking, and emotional processing. These aren’t just quirks; they’ve caused persistent friction in my life, even when I’ve appeared outwardly “functional.”
What I’ve come to realise is this: I’m not chasing a label. I’m trying to better understand myself so I can show up more fully — for my daughter, who is going through her own assessment journey, and for myself, after years of quietly struggling. If the current understanding places these traits under the ASD banner, I’m open to that. But what matters more to me than diagnosis is recognition — of how my brain works, how that’s shaped my life, and how I can work with it rather than against it.
I also share your concern about dilution. If everyone is “neurodivergent,” then it becomes harder to identify who genuinely needs structured support, accommodation, and understanding. But at the same time, I don’t think we need to panic about increased visibility — if anything, we need better tools for distinguishing between temporary resonance and lived, impairing difference.
Your phrase — “difficult to navigate the ordinary world of humans” — really stuck with me. That captures it. The effort of trying to appear “normal” in spaces that weren’t designed for you is exhausting. The relief of being seen, finally, for how you truly experience the world, is profound.
So no — I don’t think everyone is neurodivergent. But I do think more people are waking up to the reality that difference has always been among us — and that naming it can help us find healthier ways to live.
Thank you again for creating space for a dialogue that holds complexity without rushing to conclusion.
Scott, I really appreciate your vulnerability and that you are creating a space for discussion of this important topic. I found you recently by watching Mayim Bialik's Breakdown, so haven't read the book you wrote about neurodiversity for educators.
One area I think we are getting confused as the neurodivergent movement grows is with the origin and meaning of the term "neurodivergent." Neurodiversity refers to the entire population. As a whole, we all represent the entire spectrum of neurodiverse possibility.
Specific diagnoses and potential disabilities each have their own name and criteria. While I don't appreciate some of the names and think the DSM5 is long overdue for updates to the criteria, it's all we have right now for providing diagnoses and official services.
The concept of neurodiversity was created in the late 1990s (maybe to 2000). There is some disagreement on it's origin, but it looks to me as if Kassiane Asasumasu in the US and Judy Singer, a sociologist in Australia, were using similar terms around the same time. Kassiane Asasumasu, who first referred to "neurodivergence," was motivated by social justice and never intended for the term to become an umbrella for a small subset of neurological disabilities. Her intentions were quite the opposite, to eliminate gatekeeping and to create inclusivity and accommodations for people whose brains work differently than what is considered "normal" or "typical." This can include acquired neurodivergence from traumatic brain injury, anxiety disorders, persistent depressive disorders, and even other trauma related disorders, in addition to autism, ADHD, dyspraxia, etc. Anyone who feels neurodivergent in some way is welcome to use the term, if we use the social justice perspective.
Due to the inaccessibility of evaluation and stigmas that persist in communities around the world, where diagnoses of autism, ADHD, and other similar challenges are often denied to people who are in great need of accommodation, I have to lean toward Kassiane Asasumasu's definition of neurodivergence. I also support self-diagnosis and self-exploration of potential neurodivergence. In a perfect world, I would want this self-diagnosis and exploration to be coupled with strengths-based therapy. And a kinder world.
This doesn't take away from the valuable work of Judy Singer.
While the phrase "Everyone is a little autistic," is absolutely incorrect and creates more barriers for people who need accommodation, it is possibly true that "Everyone is a little neurodivergent." That is what neurodiversity is, after all. A personal example: My husband, who behaves like a classic ADHDer, scores pretty low on ADHD assessments. I, however, who have the official diagnosis of ADHD, have life-long conditioning that makes my ADHD almost imperceptible to others. I score very high on ADHD assessments and also pretty high on Autism assessments. My husband and I provide accommodations for each other because whether we have official diagnoses or not, we want to live in a kinder, strengths-based home.
In an ideal world, teens who are using social media to better understand themselves would have the support of family, friends, and professionals to help them build strengths into their identities along with better understanding their challenges. Social media gets a lot wrong. But in response, there are growing numbers of accounts where more accurate information is being disseminated. Social media isn't going away, but we can keep these lines of communication open and stay curious about the stories young people are telling about their lives.
Again, thank you for raising this topic, Scott! I appreciate all the comments and important issues raised by your readers.
One of the greatest barriers to accommodations for those who need them are this notion that
I’m a parent of a 2e kid. Often when I talk about his differences to other people he needs support from, people will say… “we all have strengths and weaknesses”. Well, sure we do, but his strengths and weaknesses are much more extreme and fall outside of norms. The standard systems aren’t able to support him without these labels that give him access to services, that’s why he has diagnoses and accommodations. People will also try to relate or show compassion by saying they have similar issues. But, it can come across as minimizing the difference and the impact of the difference. You might find something uncomfortable or take more effort, but his differences are much more extreme and cause complex problems. Basically, sometimes trying to relate can minimize the actual diagnoses. Being respectful, listening to someone’s first hand experience and having a grasp of disability rights is better than “relating”. I want people to be respectful enough to know that everyone’s experience is not like their own but is also valid and real.
I think a reason for this is because people want to talk about the genuine issues they are facing in their life but are limited by a lack of language. Psychology has always focused on those that are unhealthy and ignored those that are simply "meh". Many people who feel "meh" are functional citizens of society, have basic capacities for relationships, but struggle to experience higher or deeper connections, and still experience many real issues and problems in life.
These diagnosises help them put a word to their struggles - even if they're not as bad as those faced by people who really suffer with ADHD. The solution then is to invent a language and a framework - similar to Elaine Arons term Highly Sensitive Person. We should talk about MDPs! Moderately Distracted People, or MEPs - Moderately entitled people. (Mini-narcissists). The idea is that we give people something to relate to and connect and talk about, without creating a "diagnosis".
People who identify with ADHD want to talk about their issues with distraction, decision making, regardless if they actually meet the criteria of the diagnosis, because to them, these are real issues impacting their life, and the only term they know for it is ADHD. Pair it with how people hope this diagnosis will offer their kid genuine and real support in a school system that has been underfunded for too long. But in doing so, they're also undercutting the kids that really need support.. Something has to change. That's for sure.
Thanks for your work and looking forward to read your book!
Scott, I also came across that paper, and like you, thought long and hard about it. In fact, I raised it with an Aussie colleague who happens to be an expert in adult neurodiversity. She's a clinical psychologist and married to one of my dear coaching psych teachers at USYD. As you so masterfully explored in this article, I also find it uncomfortable to hear folk saying that everyone is neurodivergent.
I just came back from an intensive international 9-day training program, known as IIT, in non-violent communication (NVC), developed by the late Dr Marshall Rosenberg. He studied under Carl Rogers. Whilst at the IIT, I felt deeply motivated, nay moved, to design and share a group exercise to compassionately advocate for my needs. To say that it landed well is an understatement...it shifted the remaining program to a higher level of collective consciousness in the group, including organisers, trainers, event hosts and interpreters (it was a bilingual event in English and Spanish)!
I've been asked to publish it with the Centre for Non-Violent Communication. It's very simple but I'm designing it as a shareable infographic. I'd love to also share with you here and on LinkedIn - if you accept my connection invite!
Thanks for your work. Our conversations in San Diego 2 years ago (at the IOC Leadership in Healthcare Conference) stayed with me. Especially meaningful as I'd recently lost my husband.
It’s bothered me time and time again when I get asked “well doesn’t everyone have ADHD or on the spectrum somehow?” Because it completely diminishes other people’s truly difficult experience to navigate this world, including my own. When that question arises, I can’t help but shut down a little knowing I’m having a conversation with someone who probably doesn’t care in the first place.
This bugs me too. EVERYBODY can't be "diverse." That would be like saying everybody is above average. In my community, ADHD is a very common diagnosis, and it's still stigmatized: kids feel bad about their ADHD and feel as if there's no way to "fix" themselves. But the kids I've tutored who are diagnosed with ADHD seem fairly normal to me. Maybe their minds move faster than the minds of us adults. That's sometimes all it is. I can see why this would be frustrating for teachers in a classroom situation, but it's not a problem in a more normal situation like me and that kid making something together.
About the autism diagnosis: That is probably more rare than ADHD in actuality, but some adults I know are self-diagnosing as autistic merely because they sometimes say things that other people find strange or off-putting!
While I believe that high-functioning autistic people really do have a different kind of mind than most people, I believe that they can learn to function is such a way that their lives work better. It should not be an excuse for being entitled or exploitative. Everybody needs to learn to pitch in at home, thank people who serve them food, pick up after themselves, take the trash out, etc. Saying you can't remember to do these things because you're on the spectrum is not ok.
Well said. We’re a movement of UK ND family doctors and / or those interested in ND. Many of us have been grappling with this article too, and you’ve aligned it perfectly to the whole identity politics issue. Thank you.
This is such a complicated topic, so thanks for writing about this. This is very timely.
I have been thinking about this quite a lot, because I'm an orchid/HSP, and I've recently written a fictional novel for teens, where the main character is an orchid. However, I've intentionally described the secondary characters as dandelions and tulips, because I want to help bring awareness to the entire spectrum of sensitivity. Currently, the world tends to stigmatize people who are HSP and singles them out as "abnormal." Even the term HSP creates a sense of other/difference. And I think this language can be problematic.
Part of my mission is to help get more people (especially in mainstream media) talking about the entire spectrum of sensitivity, instead of only singling out HSPs. Because the truth is - we all have a nervous system and we all fall somewhere along the spectrum of sensitivity. I think when we only talk about HSPs in isolation, it does more to stigmatize them, whereas I want to help educate everyone about how they experience their own nervous system.
I think when we all understand ourselves better, we can also understand other people better. I want to help people understand orchids, AND dandelions AND tulips. Because I want to normalize wherever we fall along the sensitivity spectrum. Yes, as an orchid I have very specific challenges. As you know, it's not an easy experience. But I'm absolutely not a victim and I don't whine about it. I just try to educate people about the biology of sensitivity, to understand themselves better.
I've had many conversations with people over the last two years about sensitivity. And everyone I've talked with - especially parents and teachers - has appreciated understanding all three types of flowers, because they can identify themselves as one of the three... everyone feels included. What's interesting is that other people have then applied the term of "neurodiverse" to me and I'm personally ambivalent about it.
I say I'm an orchid, because I have a highly sensitive nervous system. And then I provide them resources where they can go watch videos or read books to learn more about sensitivity.
So thank you for everything you've done to help educate people and stimulate informed thinking. Your work is very much appreciated.
Scott, thanks for putting words to the knot so many of us are wrestling with — how to celebrate neural variety without diluting the very signal that unlocks real-world support.
Where your argument really resonates:
If every quirk becomes a clinical badge, HR budgets and public-school IEP funding will evaporate; labels lose their power to trigger accommodations.
Reduced stigma is a gift. Late-diagnosed adults I coach often say the label finally let them swap “What’s wrong with me?” for “How do I work with my wiring?”Where my work in companies adds a nuance:
Trait × Context = Impairment. An ADHD engineer in a flow-friendly scrum team may need zero formal supports; the same brain in an open-plan help-desk can burn out in a week. Severity isn’t just biological, it’s environmental.
Self-diagnosis alone rarely unlocks anything at work—legal accommodation processes still hinge on formal evaluation—yet many gifted/ND adults hesitate to disclose at all. We often coach them out of internalised ableism, not victim-performance.
What keeps the term useful is tying it to design levers, not identity politics.
Universal tweaks everyone loves (clear agendas, camera-optional meetings) + opt-in personal adjustments (noise-cancelling stipend) = no one has to prove they’re “ND enough” for basic humanity, while resources remain targeted.
So maybe the next evolution is: “We’re all neurologically unique; some of us need system tweaks to hit the same outcomes.” That keeps the label actionable while honouring the spectrum within the spectrum.
Would love your thoughts on how this trait-context framing might translate in education settings, where the resource crunch is even sharper. Always appreciate your willingness to tackle the messy middle ground.
Scott, love this essay. It gives voice to concerns I have as a clinician. Nick Haslam's idea of Concept Creep speaks to what you are pointing at too.
Yes absolutely! Thanks for reading and commenting.
Hello SBK,
Well said, everyone being neurodiverse is the same as everyone being ‘a little bit on the spectrum’. Those with a clinical diagnosis, and subsequent challenges, have their experiences minimised because ‘everyone is neurodiverse’.
If a person falls into a fire and suffers third degree burns, we don’t compare the time we lit the gas stove and singed our eyelashes to their experience.
Everyone being neurodiverse is a barrier to widened understanding of how exhausting and difficult it is to navigate the neurotypical world.
Without understanding, where is the motivation for consideration and accommodation.
"The majority is divergent" seems a little bit like "the straights are gay".
Scott, I'm sure everyone appreciates not just the big question you raise but your willingness to share something of your own state of mind in social situations to illustrate the challenge here.
Overall, the issue seems to me to mirror the question our country continues to wrestle with: do all lives matter, do Black lives matter, are both statements true and how much relative to one another? Substitute "neurodivergent" for Black and it's a quite a similar issue.
One of the comments here - by Niki Mathias - points out that sensitivity can be seen along a spectrum...and another commenter, Irene Stajduhar, notes that we're all neurodiverse, meaning that we all have nervous systems that work a given way. This idea of a continuum is super important. The late Ernest Hartman (Tufts University researcher) suggested that everyone is constituted along a spectrum of thick-to-thin boundaries, with some people being highly 'thick skinned' on one end and others being highly sensitive on the other. I've always liked that concept because a) I believe it fairly represents reality and b) no one gets unduly pathologized.
That being said, there are outliers and they're the people most in need of assistance. On the thick boundary side are people who are alexithymic and don't necessarily know how they feel. One might consider savants also highly thick boundary, although a trait of many individuals with autism is a pronounced sensitivity, so thin boundary in that respect. My point is that we're all somewhere on a continuum and, depending where we are, conforming to social norms is more or less challenging.
I believe yes, in some ways we all are. I'm an anti cruelty, bullying, lying, criminal, malignant, maleovent, narcissistic, egotistical, unconstitutional & all other things that go into that category. I’m sort of democracy loving & ethical neurodivergent. I really am divergent to it all, not perfect but I really do try for higher ideals & the greater good of/for all. Not political though either
Thanks for opening up such a nuanced and vulnerable conversation. I really connected with a lot of what you shared — particularly the tension between recognising how complex and varied human minds are, while also acknowledging that some differences do reach a threshold where they significantly disrupt daily life.
Like many people, I’ve wrestled with whether the term "neurodivergent" fits me. I relate to some traits associated with autism — challenges with sensory overwhelm, social interaction, rigidity, masking, and emotional processing. These aren’t just quirks; they’ve caused persistent friction in my life, even when I’ve appeared outwardly “functional.”
What I’ve come to realise is this: I’m not chasing a label. I’m trying to better understand myself so I can show up more fully — for my daughter, who is going through her own assessment journey, and for myself, after years of quietly struggling. If the current understanding places these traits under the ASD banner, I’m open to that. But what matters more to me than diagnosis is recognition — of how my brain works, how that’s shaped my life, and how I can work with it rather than against it.
I also share your concern about dilution. If everyone is “neurodivergent,” then it becomes harder to identify who genuinely needs structured support, accommodation, and understanding. But at the same time, I don’t think we need to panic about increased visibility — if anything, we need better tools for distinguishing between temporary resonance and lived, impairing difference.
Your phrase — “difficult to navigate the ordinary world of humans” — really stuck with me. That captures it. The effort of trying to appear “normal” in spaces that weren’t designed for you is exhausting. The relief of being seen, finally, for how you truly experience the world, is profound.
So no — I don’t think everyone is neurodivergent. But I do think more people are waking up to the reality that difference has always been among us — and that naming it can help us find healthier ways to live.
Thank you again for creating space for a dialogue that holds complexity without rushing to conclusion.
Thanks for opening up such a nuanced and vulnerable conversation. I really connected with a lot of what you shared — particularly the tension between recognising how complex and varied human minds are, while also acknowledging that some differences do reach a threshold where they significantly disrupt daily life.
Like many people, I’ve wrestled with whether the term "neurodivergent" fits me. I relate to some traits associated with autism — challenges with sensory overwhelm, social interaction, rigidity, masking, and emotional processing. These aren’t just quirks; they’ve caused persistent friction in my life, even when I’ve appeared outwardly “functional.”
What I’ve come to realise is this: I’m not chasing a label. I’m trying to better understand myself so I can show up more fully — for my daughter, who is going through her own assessment journey, and for myself, after years of quietly struggling. If the current understanding places these traits under the ASD banner, I’m open to that. But what matters more to me than diagnosis is recognition — of how my brain works, how that’s shaped my life, and how I can work with it rather than against it.
I also share your concern about dilution. If everyone is “neurodivergent,” then it becomes harder to identify who genuinely needs structured support, accommodation, and understanding. But at the same time, I don’t think we need to panic about increased visibility — if anything, we need better tools for distinguishing between temporary resonance and lived, impairing difference.
Your phrase — “difficult to navigate the ordinary world of humans” — really stuck with me. That captures it. The effort of trying to appear “normal” in spaces that weren’t designed for you is exhausting. The relief of being seen, finally, for how you truly experience the world, is profound.
So no — I don’t think everyone is neurodivergent. But I do think more people are waking up to the reality that difference has always been among us — and that naming it can help us find healthier ways to live.
Thank you again for creating space for a dialogue that holds complexity without rushing to conclusion.
Scott, I really appreciate your vulnerability and that you are creating a space for discussion of this important topic. I found you recently by watching Mayim Bialik's Breakdown, so haven't read the book you wrote about neurodiversity for educators.
One area I think we are getting confused as the neurodivergent movement grows is with the origin and meaning of the term "neurodivergent." Neurodiversity refers to the entire population. As a whole, we all represent the entire spectrum of neurodiverse possibility.
Specific diagnoses and potential disabilities each have their own name and criteria. While I don't appreciate some of the names and think the DSM5 is long overdue for updates to the criteria, it's all we have right now for providing diagnoses and official services.
The concept of neurodiversity was created in the late 1990s (maybe to 2000). There is some disagreement on it's origin, but it looks to me as if Kassiane Asasumasu in the US and Judy Singer, a sociologist in Australia, were using similar terms around the same time. Kassiane Asasumasu, who first referred to "neurodivergence," was motivated by social justice and never intended for the term to become an umbrella for a small subset of neurological disabilities. Her intentions were quite the opposite, to eliminate gatekeeping and to create inclusivity and accommodations for people whose brains work differently than what is considered "normal" or "typical." This can include acquired neurodivergence from traumatic brain injury, anxiety disorders, persistent depressive disorders, and even other trauma related disorders, in addition to autism, ADHD, dyspraxia, etc. Anyone who feels neurodivergent in some way is welcome to use the term, if we use the social justice perspective.
Due to the inaccessibility of evaluation and stigmas that persist in communities around the world, where diagnoses of autism, ADHD, and other similar challenges are often denied to people who are in great need of accommodation, I have to lean toward Kassiane Asasumasu's definition of neurodivergence. I also support self-diagnosis and self-exploration of potential neurodivergence. In a perfect world, I would want this self-diagnosis and exploration to be coupled with strengths-based therapy. And a kinder world.
This doesn't take away from the valuable work of Judy Singer.
While the phrase "Everyone is a little autistic," is absolutely incorrect and creates more barriers for people who need accommodation, it is possibly true that "Everyone is a little neurodivergent." That is what neurodiversity is, after all. A personal example: My husband, who behaves like a classic ADHDer, scores pretty low on ADHD assessments. I, however, who have the official diagnosis of ADHD, have life-long conditioning that makes my ADHD almost imperceptible to others. I score very high on ADHD assessments and also pretty high on Autism assessments. My husband and I provide accommodations for each other because whether we have official diagnoses or not, we want to live in a kinder, strengths-based home.
In an ideal world, teens who are using social media to better understand themselves would have the support of family, friends, and professionals to help them build strengths into their identities along with better understanding their challenges. Social media gets a lot wrong. But in response, there are growing numbers of accounts where more accurate information is being disseminated. Social media isn't going away, but we can keep these lines of communication open and stay curious about the stories young people are telling about their lives.
Again, thank you for raising this topic, Scott! I appreciate all the comments and important issues raised by your readers.
One of the greatest barriers to accommodations for those who need them are this notion that
I’m a parent of a 2e kid. Often when I talk about his differences to other people he needs support from, people will say… “we all have strengths and weaknesses”. Well, sure we do, but his strengths and weaknesses are much more extreme and fall outside of norms. The standard systems aren’t able to support him without these labels that give him access to services, that’s why he has diagnoses and accommodations. People will also try to relate or show compassion by saying they have similar issues. But, it can come across as minimizing the difference and the impact of the difference. You might find something uncomfortable or take more effort, but his differences are much more extreme and cause complex problems. Basically, sometimes trying to relate can minimize the actual diagnoses. Being respectful, listening to someone’s first hand experience and having a grasp of disability rights is better than “relating”. I want people to be respectful enough to know that everyone’s experience is not like their own but is also valid and real.
Hi Scott,
I think a reason for this is because people want to talk about the genuine issues they are facing in their life but are limited by a lack of language. Psychology has always focused on those that are unhealthy and ignored those that are simply "meh". Many people who feel "meh" are functional citizens of society, have basic capacities for relationships, but struggle to experience higher or deeper connections, and still experience many real issues and problems in life.
These diagnosises help them put a word to their struggles - even if they're not as bad as those faced by people who really suffer with ADHD. The solution then is to invent a language and a framework - similar to Elaine Arons term Highly Sensitive Person. We should talk about MDPs! Moderately Distracted People, or MEPs - Moderately entitled people. (Mini-narcissists). The idea is that we give people something to relate to and connect and talk about, without creating a "diagnosis".
People who identify with ADHD want to talk about their issues with distraction, decision making, regardless if they actually meet the criteria of the diagnosis, because to them, these are real issues impacting their life, and the only term they know for it is ADHD. Pair it with how people hope this diagnosis will offer their kid genuine and real support in a school system that has been underfunded for too long. But in doing so, they're also undercutting the kids that really need support.. Something has to change. That's for sure.
Thanks for your work and looking forward to read your book!
Scott, I also came across that paper, and like you, thought long and hard about it. In fact, I raised it with an Aussie colleague who happens to be an expert in adult neurodiversity. She's a clinical psychologist and married to one of my dear coaching psych teachers at USYD. As you so masterfully explored in this article, I also find it uncomfortable to hear folk saying that everyone is neurodivergent.
I just came back from an intensive international 9-day training program, known as IIT, in non-violent communication (NVC), developed by the late Dr Marshall Rosenberg. He studied under Carl Rogers. Whilst at the IIT, I felt deeply motivated, nay moved, to design and share a group exercise to compassionately advocate for my needs. To say that it landed well is an understatement...it shifted the remaining program to a higher level of collective consciousness in the group, including organisers, trainers, event hosts and interpreters (it was a bilingual event in English and Spanish)!
I've been asked to publish it with the Centre for Non-Violent Communication. It's very simple but I'm designing it as a shareable infographic. I'd love to also share with you here and on LinkedIn - if you accept my connection invite!
Thanks for your work. Our conversations in San Diego 2 years ago (at the IOC Leadership in Healthcare Conference) stayed with me. Especially meaningful as I'd recently lost my husband.
It’s bothered me time and time again when I get asked “well doesn’t everyone have ADHD or on the spectrum somehow?” Because it completely diminishes other people’s truly difficult experience to navigate this world, including my own. When that question arises, I can’t help but shut down a little knowing I’m having a conversation with someone who probably doesn’t care in the first place.
This bugs me too. EVERYBODY can't be "diverse." That would be like saying everybody is above average. In my community, ADHD is a very common diagnosis, and it's still stigmatized: kids feel bad about their ADHD and feel as if there's no way to "fix" themselves. But the kids I've tutored who are diagnosed with ADHD seem fairly normal to me. Maybe their minds move faster than the minds of us adults. That's sometimes all it is. I can see why this would be frustrating for teachers in a classroom situation, but it's not a problem in a more normal situation like me and that kid making something together.
About the autism diagnosis: That is probably more rare than ADHD in actuality, but some adults I know are self-diagnosing as autistic merely because they sometimes say things that other people find strange or off-putting!
While I believe that high-functioning autistic people really do have a different kind of mind than most people, I believe that they can learn to function is such a way that their lives work better. It should not be an excuse for being entitled or exploitative. Everybody needs to learn to pitch in at home, thank people who serve them food, pick up after themselves, take the trash out, etc. Saying you can't remember to do these things because you're on the spectrum is not ok.
Well said. We’re a movement of UK ND family doctors and / or those interested in ND. Many of us have been grappling with this article too, and you’ve aligned it perfectly to the whole identity politics issue. Thank you.
Thanks Sarah, glad you found it helpful!
This is such a complicated topic, so thanks for writing about this. This is very timely.
I have been thinking about this quite a lot, because I'm an orchid/HSP, and I've recently written a fictional novel for teens, where the main character is an orchid. However, I've intentionally described the secondary characters as dandelions and tulips, because I want to help bring awareness to the entire spectrum of sensitivity. Currently, the world tends to stigmatize people who are HSP and singles them out as "abnormal." Even the term HSP creates a sense of other/difference. And I think this language can be problematic.
Part of my mission is to help get more people (especially in mainstream media) talking about the entire spectrum of sensitivity, instead of only singling out HSPs. Because the truth is - we all have a nervous system and we all fall somewhere along the spectrum of sensitivity. I think when we only talk about HSPs in isolation, it does more to stigmatize them, whereas I want to help educate everyone about how they experience their own nervous system.
I think when we all understand ourselves better, we can also understand other people better. I want to help people understand orchids, AND dandelions AND tulips. Because I want to normalize wherever we fall along the sensitivity spectrum. Yes, as an orchid I have very specific challenges. As you know, it's not an easy experience. But I'm absolutely not a victim and I don't whine about it. I just try to educate people about the biology of sensitivity, to understand themselves better.
I've had many conversations with people over the last two years about sensitivity. And everyone I've talked with - especially parents and teachers - has appreciated understanding all three types of flowers, because they can identify themselves as one of the three... everyone feels included. What's interesting is that other people have then applied the term of "neurodiverse" to me and I'm personally ambivalent about it.
I say I'm an orchid, because I have a highly sensitive nervous system. And then I provide them resources where they can go watch videos or read books to learn more about sensitivity.
So thank you for everything you've done to help educate people and stimulate informed thinking. Your work is very much appreciated.