neurodiversity

Growing up, I wanted to be Spiderman. Not the Tobey Maguire metro-sexual ripoff, the real Spiderman—the one from the cartoons. “Is he strong? Listen bud, he’s got radioactive blood. Can he swing from a thread? Take a look overhead. Look out, here comes the Spiderman.”

Turns out, adult autism is a lot like that cartoon heroism—minus the radioactive blood (probably). It’s not about “fixing” someone’s brain. It’s about recognizing that some minds operate on a different frequency, solving problems and perceiving the world in ways that defy neurotypical manuals.

“Wait, They’re Autistic? But They’ve Been Masking Like a Pro!”

Society loves a good disguise. Autistic adults often master the art of blending in, scripting conversations, and mirroring social cues to avoid standing out. It’s less Mission Impossible and more survival mode. One client joked, “I thought everyone rehearsed phone calls in the shower.” Spoiler: They don’t.

Late diagnosis isn’t a plot twist—it’s an awakening. Years of feeling “off” suddenly make sense. Imagine realizing your brain isn’t broken, just wired to notice patterns others miss, or hyperfocus on passions that look like obsessions to outsiders.

The “Emotionally Unavailable” Trap

Let’s cut to the chase: Autistic adults aren’t ice sculptures. They just communicate differently. Relationships crash when neurotypical partners expect mind-reading and autistic partners default to logic over subtext. She wants “emotional connection”; he’s confused why reorganizing the garage isn’t a love language.

It’s a mismatch, not malice. Autistic folks might struggle to articulate feelings, but they’ll remember your coffee order for life, or troubleshoot your Wi-Fi at 2 a.m. without complaint. Priorities shift.

Strengths in Plain Sight

Forget “deficits.” Autistic brains are built for depth, not small talk. Hyperfocus? That’s just code for “I will solve this problem or die trying.” Pattern recognition? They’ll spot the typo in your PowerPoint before you finish coffee. But force them into a neon-lit team-building retreat, and yeah, they’ll short-circuit.

The world’s obsession with extroversion misses the point. Some of history’s greatest innovators, artists, and scientists thrived because their brains ignored the noise and drilled into details.

How to Not Screw This Up

Loving an autistic person isn’t rocket science. It’s more like IKEA instructions: straightforward, but you gotta read them.

Say what you mean. “I’m upset” beats passive-aggressive silence.
Respect the sensory rules. Fluorescent lights = kryptonite. Noise-canceling headphones = peace.
Let them infodump. Yes, even about Star Trek warp core theory.

The Bottom Line

Autism isn’t a tragedy or a superhero origin story. It’s a lens. Some see the world in black-and-white rules; others notice textures, sounds, or systems invisible to the rest. The goal isn’t to “normalize” neurodivergent minds—it’s to stop pathologizing them.

So next time you meet someone who’s awkwardly brilliant, or who hates small talk but loves your cat’s birthday, lean in. They might not fill the silence, but they’ll redefine it.

Weird fact. Most of us with ADHD spent years thinking we were fundamentally broken. Lazy. Undisciplined. Dramatic. Insert your favorite self-hatred descriptor here.

We didn’t know we were wired differently. We just knew we were different.

Some of us can hyperfocus for 14 hours straight on something that absolutely lights up our brain. Some of us can’t remember what we walked into the kitchen to get. Some of us are brilliant conversationalists who can’t finish a single damn project. Paradox is our middle name.

I have no research to support this beyond decades of watching humans struggle, but here’s what I know: We’ve been gaslighting ourselves long before anyone else got the chance.

Procrastination? Not a character flaw. It’s a neurological dance with executive function that most neurotypical people will never understand. We’re not avoiding work. We’re wrestling with a brain that processes motivation differently. Sometimes we need the nuclear option of a last-minute deadline to kickstart our dopamine.

Distractibility? Not a moral failing. It’s our brain’s incredible capacity to notice EVERYTHING. While you’re focused on one conversation, we’re simultaneously processing the background music, the temperature of the room, the slight emotional shift in someone’s voice, and wondering if we turned the stove off three hours ago.

Marcus Parks said it best: “It may not be my fault, but it is my responsibility.”

Let that sink in.

Our ADHD brain isn’t a broken version of a “normal” brain. It’s a different operating system. Some of us can solve complex problems in ways linear thinkers can’t even imagine. Some of us create art that breaks traditional boundaries. Some of us survive where others would have long given up.

Practical intelligence for us looks different. We might struggle with traditional “adulting” but can MacGyver a solution to a problem that would leave others completely stumped. We might forget to do our taxes but can tell you every detail about a random Wikipedia rabbit hole we fell into at 2 AM.

I say this with a level of confidence because I’ve lived it. I’ve watched countless humans with ADHD beat themselves up for years, not understanding that their brain is simply wired for a different kind of brilliance.

Our brains don’t just march to a different drum. We’re playing an entire different symphony.

Some of you know exactly what I’m talking about. The endless self-criticism. The late-night spirals of “why can’t I just be normal?” The feeling of being simultaneously too much and not enough.

But here’s the beautiful paradox: What we’ve been taught to see as our greatest weaknesses are often our most extraordinary strengths.

Hyperfocus isn’t a bug. It’s a feature. Creativity isn’t scattered. It’s multidimensional. Emotional sensitivity isn’t dramatic. It’s profound.

We are not broken. We are not less. We are different.

And different? Well maybe a bit…

Tag: neurodiversity

Adult Autism: Why Their Brains Might Be the Coolest Superpowers They’re Not Using (Yet)