If you’re neurodivergent — or wondering if you might be — there’s a good chance you’ve spent years trying not to be too much… or not enough. Too emotional, too blunt, too sensitive, too disorganised — or lazy, rude, dramatic. “Overthinking it.”

You might be used to pushing through things that genuinely don’t work for you — like sitting under buzzing office lights, forcing eye contact, or trying to focus in a 2-hour meeting while your brain is doing literally anything else.

And somewhere along the way, it can start to feel like what is wrong with me?

Neurodivergent-affirming therapy starts from a completely different place — not “how do we fix this?”, but what if there was nothing wrong with you in the first place?

Who is this for?

“Neurodivergent” is an umbrella term for people whose brains work differently from what’s considered typical.

That can include ADHD, autism, dyslexia, dyspraxia, dyscalculia, Tourette’s and more. Some people also identify as AuDHD (both autistic and ADHD).

You don’t need a diagnosis for this to be relevant.

People I work with might be:

• questioning whether they might be neurodivergent

• self-identifying

• or just recognising patterns that finally make sense when viewed through this lens

Diagnosis or not, what tends to matter most is this:

Working with someone who understands difference — rather than trying to smooth it out.

Maybe you’ve learned to push through — but it’s starting to cost you more than it used to.

What is neurodivergent-affirming therapy?

At its core, it’s about working in a way that fits you.

That means you decide what you want to bring to therapy, what feels important, and what you’d like to get from it. That might include neurodivergence — or it might not.

Some clients come wanting to understand ADHD or autism more. Others with something completely different, like relationships, anxiety or life changes. Either way, neurodivergence is part of their picture, not their whole story.

You don’t need a diagnosis to talk about it. If it feels relevant, we can explore it — whether you’re diagnosed, self-identifying, or just wondering.

From there, it can look a couple of different ways.

Sometimes, the focus is on understanding how your brain works — what supports you, what doesn’t, and how to help things feel more manageable day-to-day.

Other times, we might be working on something else entirely — but in a way that takes your needs into account, rather than expecting you to fit a certain mould.

In practice, that means we work with your brain — not against it.

It’s not about turning you into someone more “functional”, more “productive”, or “easier for other people to be around”.

It’s about understanding and accepting how you actually work — and building something around that.

That might include things like:

• recognising your traits as differences, or even preferences, not defects or deficits

• looking at how your environment impacts you (instead of assuming it’s all you)

• letting your communication style be your communication style — whether that includes pauses, tangents, or not making eye contact

• making space for movement, fidgeting, or stimming rather than trying to stop it

• talking honestly about what doesn’t work for you — even if it’s a “well-known” technique

It’s also not about pretending everything is a strength. 

You can recognise what’s hard without it becoming who you are.

And if you’ve been masking for years and aren’t even sure who you are underneath that — that’s something we can gently explore together, at your pace.

Why therapy doesn’t always feel helpful (and it’s not your fault)

I’ve found that a lot of therapy approaches weren’t designed with neurodivergent people in mind.

So if you’ve tried therapy before and left feeling:

• misunderstood

• overwhelmed

• like you were “doing it wrong”

…that makes sense.

Some common sticking points I’ve come across include:

1. The way therapy is structured

Some approaches (like CBT) rely on things like:

• tracking thoughts and feelings

• sticking to routines

• doing worksheets or “homework”

If getting started, staying organised or following things through feels difficult, this can quickly turn into pressure, burnout, or feeling like you’ve failed (again).

2. Communication differences

Therapy often assumes a very specific communication style, such as:

• eye contact

• quick responses

• being able to answer layered or abstract questions

But if you process differently, you might need:

• more time

• straightforward questions

• or a completely different way of expressing things

None of that is wrong — it’s just different.

3. Not knowing what you feel (alexithymia)

It’s not unusual if you struggle to identify or name emotions. For some people, there just aren’t clear words or signals to go on.

So being asked “how are you feeling?” can feel impossible — not because you’re avoiding it, but because you genuinely don’t know. 

That can become even more confusing if you’re then asked to rate an emotion on a scale of 1–10, or to say where you feel it in your body.

Without that understanding, it can easily turn into:

“Why can’t I do this properly?”

4. Misunderstood behaviours

Things like:

• stimming

• needing time alone

• avoiding certain environments

…can be misread as problems to fix, rather than ways you’re already coping.

5. The therapy environment itself

Therapy rooms can be surprisingly overwhelming.

Lighting, sounds, smells, textures, temperature — it all matters.

And then there’s the social side:

• small talk at the start/end

• sitting still for 50 minutes

• trying to “get it right”

That’s a lot.

6. The relationship dynamic

If you experience rejection sensitivity (RSD), therapy can feel high stakes.

You might:

• people-please

• avoid saying something isn’t working

• or assume you’ve upset your therapist

Especially if the therapist doesn’t recognise what’s happening.

What you might gain from neurodivergent-affirming therapy

This isn’t about changing who you are.

It’s more about understanding yourself in a way that actually makes sense — and building from there.

That might look like:

• making sense of patterns that have followed you for years

• letting go of some of the shame or self-blame

• figuring out what actually helps (and what really doesn’t)

• learning how to advocate for your needs

• understanding burnout, shutdowns or meltdowns in a more compassionate way

• gently making sense of past experiences — including bullying, feeling excluded, masking to stay safe, or being criticised or punished for being yourself

And in practical terms, that can mean:

• feeling more at ease in yourself

• setting boundaries without as much guilt

• reducing overwhelm

• finding ways of working with your energy and attention

• slowly unpicking masking (where it’s safe to do so)

• exploring your strengths and how to shape your life in a way that actually lets them show up

  
  

How to spot a neurodivergent-affirming therapist

Not every therapist will use this exact wording, so it can take a bit of reading between the lines.

Things that can be helpful to look for:

• they mention ADHD, autism or neurodivergence explicitly

• they talk about adapting therapy, not just applying one model

• their language feels affirming and inclusive — focusing on support, traits and differences, not deficits or labels

• they don’t centre diagnosis as a requirement

• they have completed additional training in supporting neurodivergent clients

• they’re open to feedback about what is and isn’t working

You’re allowed to ask questions, too. A good therapist won’t be thrown by that.

Next steps

If you’re curious about therapy, or wondering if this way of working might suit you, you’re welcome to get in touch.

Sarah offers a free 20-minute consultation where you can talk things through and see if it feels like a good fit.