The day my neurodivergent doomscrolling paid off

I’m scrolling through Instagram desperately seeking some form of stimuli, when I am hit with an infographic that reads: “Study Confirms Neurotypical Peers are Less Willing to Interact with Those with Autism based on Thin Slice Judgments.” The caption invites me to follow the link to this study, and upon reading I am met with information that I had always known, always felt, deep within my subconscious.

I am confident that every person on the spectrum has experienced that hunch. That feeling, that itch, upon first interacting with a stranger. A couple of minutes into conversing there’s that look they give you, the way it sends a chill over your body. We notice the shift in tone, the way they reposition their body language, the feeling of shame that hits us like a sharp blade piercing our very souls. And a thought plays in our head “They know … they’ve figured it out … and they do not want to engage with me any further.”

Prior to being diagnosed, I knew there was something ‘different’ about me. Something that made my school peers hesitant to choose me as a partner or to sit next to me in class. As I got older, and my school peers became crueler, that feeling of being an alien, an outcast, only became worse. I would cry to my mother about my struggles to make friends or connect with my peers. I would spend lunchtimes in the library reading books, escaping into a fantasy world in which my friends were fairies, monsters, Greek Goddesses and witches. My school teachers noticed my isolation and would do their best to try and help. “Why don’t you try sitting with the girls over there?” A wave of anxiety would rise in my body like a tsunami engulfing a city. “They don’t like me.” I would say. “Oh come on, now,” My well meaning teachers would respond. “I’m sure that’s all in your head!” 

And now, as an adult approaching her 30’s, I sit and read a study that confirms to me my suspicions were true. “I knew it,” I think to myself. “It wasn’t all in my head.” According to the study, first impressions made by neurotypicals towards their neurodiverse peers tend to be negative, are formed within seconds, do not change with increased exposure to the person, and take place both in child and adult age groups. These negative impressions also leave neurotypicals with a desire to distance themselves from the neurodiverse person in question.

Upon reading this, I had to take some time to process the emotions it brought up in me. I thought back to that sense of isolation I felt as a child and the negative impact it had on my self image, and I started bawling my eyes out. Not just for my inner child, but I cried for all of the people in the world who have felt that cold sting of social isolation and the negative impacts it has on your psychological development. 

Humans are social creatures, meaning that we live in relation with those around us and are driven by a desire for community and a sense of belonging. At our core, humans just want to be understood. We want to feel seen, heard and accepted by those around us. Knowing that neurodiverse folk are more likely to be ostracised in predominantly neurotypical spaces, it’s easy to see how that puts us at a higher risk of experiencing the negative impacts of social isolation: including depression, anxiety, chronic illnesses, and suicidal ideation.

But what is it about neurodiverse folk that neurotypicals seem to find so unsettling? This question has plagued my mind since being diagnosed with the combined ADHD type.

I believe that being neurodiverse and struggling to navigate neurotypical culture is not something to be ashamed of. In fact, I believe it's a badge of honor. Those who conform to arbitrary social hierarchies based on superficial notions are, in my opinion, the ones who are truly missing out. Over time, I've come to feel a sense of pity for those who are trapped in a never-ending cycle of seeking external validation and conforming to societal expectations. True happiness and fulfillment can never be achieved when one is constantly seeking validation from others, especially when that validation is rooted in patriarchal and colonialist ideologies.

It's a natural desire to seek social connection and acceptance, so it's okay to feel hurt when we're rejected by others. The dangers of social isolation are very real, and it’s something I have experienced on many occasions throughout my life, so I do not take the pursuit of being yourself lightly in a world that so harshly punishes anyone who deters from the “norm”. Initially, learning that my neurodiverse peers had in fact been judging me was a painful revelation, but as I've come to understand the reasons behind their behavior, I've arrived at a place of peace and self-acceptance.

Through following and engaging with other folks on the spectrum who bravely share their experiences of unmasking and the strength and self acceptance it grants them, the more I know I am not alone in my journey. It is inspiring to see so many neurodiverse folks come to terms with the fact that if we are going to be perceived as strange by neurotypical culture, we may as well just be ourselves. Instead of holding ourselves to unrealistic expectations, many of us are doing our best to live in alignment with our true values, and not the values we’ve been told we should have. 

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