Why Neurodivergent People Have to Live Authentically
Authenticity as a Survival Strategy
Authenticity has not only been a value of mine for years, but a North Star. I suppose it makes some sense when I look back on my life and see how much masking I’ve had to do. Not only that, but all of the ways in which I’ve seen people act incongruently from their values. —There’s nothing that perplexes me more than witnessing folks act wildly out of alignment from themselves. We all do it, even me, and yet conforming to social norms, sacrificing one’s mental health as a trade off seems like it’s just what you’re expected to do. — I’ve always felt different, and sometimes when you already feel so different, it’s easier to surrender to walking to the beat of your own drum. At the same time, living authentically in today’s world where idnetity is under scrutiny more than ever, it’s not an easy task to be who you are all loud and proud.
But for many neurodivergent individuals—those with ADHD, autism, dyslexia, and other cognitive differences—authenticity isn’t some trendy aspirational wellness goal: it’s a necessity.
In a world designed to reward sameness, neurodivergent people often feel the pressure to mask their traits, tone down their natural expressions, or abandon parts of themselves just to survive. But for many, the cost of that conformity becomes too high. Authenticity becomes more than a preference — it becomes a form of resistance, a pathway to mental health, and sometimes, a quiet act of survival.
If you've ever felt like you were "too much," "too sensitive," or "too intense," you are not broken. You might just be trying to live as your real self in a world that doesn't always make room for difference.
The Neurology of Authenticity
Let’s start with the brain itself. Neurodivergent people process stimuli, emotions, and social information differently — and that includes how they respond to social norms. Many neurodivergent individuals experience discomfort or even distress when asked to behave in ways that feel inauthentic, scripted, or disingenuous.
To be honest, I’ve always struggled with wedding culture. It often feels so grandiose — so disproportionate to the actual effort people put into nurturing their relationship’s health. There’s a heavy emphasis on the performance of love: the engagement party, the bridal shower, the bachelorette trip — no longer a night out, but now full-blown vacations with matching swimsuits, and overconsumption of things that will never be used again.
My neurodivergence makes me place a higher emphasis on meaningful values and acting in alignment with those values. So when I witness elaborate, performative celebrations of relationships that I know (or sense) are under-resourced emotionally, it makes me feel deeply disoriented — even angry. It’s not that I don’t want people to celebrate love — it’s that I want the depth of love to be celebrated, not the spectacle.
I personally couldn’t bring myself to attend my dear sister-in-law’s bachelorette trip in Cancun. I love her — truly. But I don’t enjoy drinking, and I knew it would be a weekend of nonstop alcohol-fueled socializing. I could already feel the psychic cost of masking, of pretending to be comfortable in an environment that drains me. It wasn’t judgment — it was self-preservation.
This is one of those moments where my neurodivergence drew a clear boundary before I could override it. I knew I’d be distressed, overstimulated, and disconnected from myself if I went. And that clarity, even when it felt inconvenient or disappointing to others, was a gift. My nervous system was telling the truth — and I chose to listen.
The discomfort with being fake isn’t a character quirk — it’s a biological mismatch. The neurodivergent brain often rejects inauthenticity on a cellular level. This means that living authentically isn't just a value — it may be the only path to feeling regulated, safe, and sane.
If you’ve ever felt physically exhausted after pretending to be “normal” all day, this is why.
Values as Core Identity
While many people build identity through affiliations (friend groups, workplaces, social roles), neurodivergent people are often tethered more deeply to values. Especially for autistic individuals, values aren’t just beliefs — they are who they are. There’s no daylight between “what I believe” and “who I am.”
This can be both a gift and a burden. On one hand, it makes neurodivergent folks incredibly principled, loyal, and passionate — they care deeply and wholeheartedly. But on the other hand, it can make them feel out of place in a world that often prioritizes social ease over moral consistency.
You might notice this in yourself if you've ever struggled to “go along with” something that felt wrong, even when everyone else did. Or if you’ve felt heartbreak when others could easily compromise their values for convenience, while you felt like betraying your integrity would be unbearable. That intensity of alignment between values and identity is often a neurodivergent trait.
And while it can feel isolating, it’s also a profound source of authenticity. You are your values — and that’s a kind of clarity many people never find.
The Cost of Masking
Masking is the learned behavior of hiding your neurodivergent traits to fit into neurotypical environments — whether that’s mimicking social cues, suppressing stimming, downplaying sensory needs, or scripting conversations to avoid seeming “weird.” While masking can help people get by, it often comes at an enormous psychological cost.
I know my own mental health was tanking by the year before I began honoring who I really was and attuning to her. The cost of masking and misattuning to yourself daily in both tangible and emotional ways can slowly erode at your will to live.
Research shows that chronic masking is associated with increased anxiety, depression, identity confusion, and autistic burnout. But what research can’t always capture is the emotional toll — the quiet erosion of self that happens when you spend your days pretending to be someone else just to be accepted.
So many people come to therapy feeling depressed or anxious and while there may be one or two issues or inciting events to point to, it’s typically a result of pervasive misattunement to the self. This has been true even for my neurotypical clients. When we consistently act how others want us to, at our own expense, we not only lose our joy and peace, but we lose ourselves.
If you’ve ever come home from a social event and collapsed from exhaustion — not because you were physically tired, but because you weren’t allowed to be yourself — you’ve felt this toll. Authenticity, then, isn’t a luxury. It’s an act of preservation. The more you can unmask safely, the more energy you reclaim, the more clarity you gain, and the more your nervous system can start to relax. You get to stop living in survival mode. You get to be.
Embracing Authentic Expression
Neurodivergent expression often looks different — and that’s exactly what makes it beautiful. Whether it’s the joyful flap of an autistic stim, the rapid-fire storytelling of someone with ADHD, or the deeply passionate info-dumps that come with a special interest, these expressions are natural, regulating, and often profoundly meaningful.
But for many neurodivergent people, these expressions have been pathologized or shamed. Teachers asked them to “sit still.” Friends laughed when they got “too intense.” Parents tried to “normalize” them. Over time, many internalize the message that their most joyful, expressive moments are too much.
And yet — when allowed — those same expressions are the very things that build connection, ignite creativity, and bring peace. They’re not just quirks. They’re self-regulation, communication, even love.
To embrace your authentic expression is to reclaim joy. It is to say: This is how I move through the world. This is how I feel safe. This is how I love and live and make sense of everything.
Creating Inclusive Environments
Authenticity doesn't flourish in a vacuum — it needs safety. That’s why creating environments that support neurodivergent expression is so important.
In therapy, in workplaces, in schools, and in families, we need to shift the focus from “how do we fix this behavior?” to “how do we support this person’s needs?” That includes making room for alternative communication styles, honoring sensory sensitivities, validating stimming, and celebrating passions instead of pathologizing them.
For therapists and allies, this also means deconstructing internal biases. Instead of interpreting bluntness as rudeness or tangents as “off-topic,” we must learn to listen through a neurodivergent lens.
When we create environments that truly honor neurodivergent authenticity, we don’t just help people function better — we help them exist more fully.
Conclusion: The Power of Being True to Yourself
For neurodivergent people, authenticity is not performative — it’s essential. It's the foundation of health, the anchor of identity, and often the only way to breathe freely in a world that demands masks.
If you’ve spent a lifetime feeling like you don’t quite fit, like your intensity is too much, or your way of being is somehow wrong — let this be your reminder: Your authenticity is not a flaw. It’s a gift. And reclaiming it might just be your most radical act of healing.
Personal Reflection: Why I Named My Practice Attune Therapy
For much of my life, I was chronically misattuned to myself. I masked constantly — for friends, family, school, partners — bending and reshaping myself to meet what I thought others needed or expected from me. It left me anxious, depressed, and disconnected. At one point, I was so far from my own internal compass that an eating disorder ruled my life.
What changed everything was learning to attune — not to others’ expectations, but to my own inner needs. Slowly, I began asking: What do I actually want? What feels right in my body? What does peace look like for me — not for them?
And then I did the hardest part: I started giving myself permission to live by those answers.
Attuned Therapy was born out of that journey. Today, my life has more peace — not because it’s perfect, but because I live authentically and attune to my needs and values, big and small. I hope to help others find that kind of self-return, too.