Exploring Overexplaining and Normalcy
Is overexplaining bringing me closer to what neurotypicals see as "normal?"
I can’t believe I’m that I’m citing LinkedIn, but this post by Julie Harris deeply resonated with me.
One of the most frustrating things about being neurodivergent is trying to explain your lived experience to neurotypical people.
A couple of months ago, someone from an online community that I was part of told me that I tend to go a little too jargon-y when I explain something about my ADHD and mental health. It also happens in other topics that I’m passionate about. Maybe it’s because I take my time and expend my energy into learning about certain concepts and ideas.
In conversations related to mental health, I bring up terminologies like PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance / Pervasive Drive for Autonomy), executive dysfunction, or RSD (rejection sensitive dysphoria) to my neurotypical friends, acquaintances, colleagues, or my immediate family whenever I try to make sense of my neurodivergence. To be honest, I’m not really an expert in these things, but I try to absorb as much knowledge as I can. I also align it with my life experiences in order to explain these concepts to the best of my abilities. If my dad, a revered former professor at one of the top business schools in the Philippines can explain to me how my job performance can affect other parts of the business like I’m ten, I can also explain my lived experience as a neurodivergent person to others—especially towards neurotypical people.
My ND-related struggles growing up were perceived by nearly everyone as character flaws, which left me feeling invalidated, misunderstood, bullied, and even deprived of certain opportunities. As a result, I developed a lot of internalized ableism as well as the constant urge to overexplain things related to my ADHD. I needed to cover all my bases as much as possible in order to feel seen, heard, and validated. My struggles with cleaning are not a product of choice, but a product of how my brain operates. Because of the constant invalidation that I got, I also became my own worst bully, having internalized all the negative criticism that people gave me. I still approach life in a way where I feel like I have to constantly act defensive, overexplain my existence, and do things to prove people wrong.
I can’t wait for the day where the need to explain neurodivergence doesn’t have to consume one’s life force, or that being neurodivergent is not something to be ashamed about or frowned upon by others. For now, I will allow myself to clean my space in small sections, have low-demand days, or give myself the grace to not equate my self-worth with my ability to be productive. I am proudly neurodivergent, and it allows me to access the world in a kinder, more empathetic light.
To my fellow neurodivergent folks, I’m here to tell you that your brain is not broken, but built different. You’re capable and worthy.
Until the next brain dump,
Lea