Neurodiversity and Self-Compassion: Writing the owner’s manual for your own brain

Have you ever looked around at the sheer number and diversity of vehicles around you while you are driving? It’s really quite astounding: sedans, SUVs, trucks of all shapes and sizes, tiny electric hatchbacks, souped-up sports cars – the list goes on and on. Different cars are different, and that is a good thing. Trucks are great for hauling materials and moving furniture, vans are helpful in transporting large numbers of children (and sports equipment), my little electric sedan is excellent for commuting to the University and parking in the crowded ramps, and a high performance sports car excels at technical driving - and cruising with the windows down during a glorious Minnesota summer day. We appreciate the diversity of options and capabilities when it comes to our motor vehicles and most of us have preferences for what we most like to drive or ride in.

Why am I talking about cars in an article that is supposed to be about ADHD? I am a clinical mental health counselor who works with occupational and academic distress and burnout and who also specializes in late-diagnosed ADHD and other forms of neurodiversity. I am also a neurodiverse human myself who spent most of my life undiagnosed and struggling to understand what was ‘wrong’ with my brain. Now, as a counselor and an instructor who teaches people about executive function and neurodiversity, I often use a metaphor that involves cars.

The term “neurodiversity” technically means that the world is made up of brains that work differently - not necessarily better or worse - just differently. Much like having a diverse array of  vehicles for different tasks and preferences, it is also beneficial to have different brains in the world with unique strengths and ways of thinking about things. I like to suggest that having an ADHD brain is a bit like having a sports car brain in a world that was built for SUVs. A sports car moves well at high speeds, has incredibly sensitive handling, can go from 0 to 60 in no time flat, and can be a lot of fun out on the race track (not to mention it can be a bit expensive to maintain). What it’s not great at doing, however, is popping over curbs, going off-roading, driving over potholes, or navigating in the ice and snow. Those are all tasks that aren’t too difficult for SUVs, however, and the metaphor suggests that our world has generally been built for vehicles with four-wheel drive and robust suspensions (ie, neurotypical brains).

Most people with ADHD (whether diagnosed or not) have not only spent their lives with sports car brains in a world built for SUVs, but most have also been repeatedly handed a standard manual for an SUVs and told that their car is defective. They have heard time and again “why can’t you just–” or “stop being so sensitive” or “why do you have  to be so much all the time?” As a result, many internalize that critique, telling themselves that they really do have a defective car or brain. They spend years trying to figure out how to drive over metaphorical curbs and pot holes without bottoming-out, or shaming themselves for not being better on the proverbial ice, all the time growing more frustrated, magnifying their flaws, and rejecting themselves. Some even start trying to tear themselves apart, desperately trying to figure out how to rebuild themselves into a more ‘standard’ model.

The work I love to do with people is to take a step back and learn how to appreciate their neurodiversity and write the owner’s manual for their own brains. We use mindfulness and self-compassion to explore their strengths and to re-write the narrative that ADHD is all about deficits. We discover the benefits of their sensory sensitivities, the beauty of their divergent thinking patterns, the untapped potential underneath their high energy and interest-driven motivation. In short, I work with people as they learn how to love, understand, and work with their unique and beautiful brains. It is a deeply rewarding process and every time I find myself in awe over the gift of getting to learn how other people think and see the world. 

Part of our work also involves learning to appreciate our limitations and accommodate ourselves when we encounter environments that aren’t well-suited for the way we think. Every brain has strengths and also has limitations and areas of growth. Just like a sports car might have to take the long way around when it encounters a curb, or swap in snow tires during the winter, those of us with ADHD (and other forms of neurodiversity) often benefit from discovering and advocating for accommodations that will help us function better in a world that is built for neurotypical brains. That might mean wearing ear plugs or noise canceling headphones in loud environments to help with sound sensitivity, or requesting written directions if we struggle with auditory processing. For me, I carry a notebook around and often jot notes throughout my meetings because it helps me to stay focused and to remember things I might otherwise forget. We identify shifts, additions, and tweaks that, like snow tires, help us to operate in conditions that might otherwise prove challenging. And some of those shifts don’t just benefit us. There is a growing body of research suggesting that modifications to environments and work procedures that accommodate neurodiverse individuals often also benefit individuals who do not identify as neurodiverse as well (snow tires also help SUVs). This concept is part of a framework known as Universal Design, and it has been written about extensively, including in books like The Canary Code: A Guide to Neurodiversity, Dignity, and Intersectional Belonging At Work by Ludmila Praslova.        

So, next time you look around at the countless different makes and models of vehicles on the roads around you I encourage you to pause and think about neurodiversity as well for a moment. As many different types of cars and trucks as there are in the world, there are so many more unique and amazing brains, each with different perspectives and ways of thinking and experiencing the world. It can be easy to assume that everyone thinks as we do, but the reality is so much more vibrant and colorful than that. When we can slow down and get to know and appreciate our own brains, then we often discover an amazing capacity and curiosity to get to know others. And in that space we find that diversity can make our lives more vibrant, exciting, and beautiful.