Trying Neurodivergence on for Size

Karen Scott
Nov 13
4 min read

It seems that neurodivergence has been trending lately.

Which is interesting because being neurodivergent isn’t exactly a new thing. But like many human dimensions that have existed for centuries, we didn’t always have a name for it.

I don’t claim to be an expert on the history of the term, but a cursory internet search suggests the word “neurodivergent” has been around for only 15 or so years. Then in 2020, the coronavirus pandemic thrust the term into the limelight as isolation fostered many conversations about mental health.

The Emergence of “Neurodivergent”

Today, “neurodivergent” is almost a buzzword… which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

After all, this has led to proactive inclusion in the workplace, educational accommodations, environmental advocacy, even literary agents seeking neurodivergent writers and/or characters.

But has this increased awareness created a “wanna be” mentality? Is it considered “cool” to be neurodivergent (ND)? Are people out there purposefully labeling themselves as ND when they aren’t? And does this minimize the struggles of those who really are? Sort of like when someone walks out the door, double-checks that they have their keys and phone, and proclaims, “I’m so OCD!” As if they really understand what it’s like.

I Thought I was just Emotional

As mentioned in a previous post, I didn’t realize I was neurodivergent until recently. I mean, I knew I had Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD) from a youngish age. And looking back, it’s clear that I had a multitude of symptoms of adult-onset ADHD, but it wasn’t until I began a second career in my late 30s that a colleague put a name to it for me.

I’ve always been an emotional person. My dad still regales the family with stories of me as a baby, child, and young adult when the tears would flow for the tiniest of reasons. I saw a therapist in college who helped me deal with my OCD and my anxiety.

Autistic editor's note: when the tears start flowing "for the tiniest of reasons", it's usually because the ND person is so overwhelmed that one more thing—anything at all—is the last straw. We spend too much energy trying to exist in a world not designed for us and sometimes, we run out.

Once, when my two kids were young, I was hospitalized for what I thought was a cardiac episode. It turned out that I was suffering from panic attacks, but not a single doctor told me that’s what was going on. At the time, mental health wasn’t acknowledged like it is today. They just sent me home feeling like I was crazy. As if I had imagined the real, physical symptoms that were actually physiological manifestations of anxiety. It wasn’t until years later that I could look back on that experience and see it for what it really was.

I need to be honest here. I’ve never been formally diagnosed with anything. I grew up in a time when “being emotional” was an embarrassment, and anxiety was something we talked about in hushed voices—or not at all. As teens, we repeated the tasteless jokes we heard from our parents about escapees from a local mental hospital. The use of antidepressants was not yet commonplace, and there was no “normalizing” of anything.

Labels: Comfort or Curse?

Over the years, I was able to put the pieces together and assign a name to each of my conditions. And now I’ve added another label: neurodivergent.

There is a comfort in being seen—in pointing to a description and saying, “That’s me.” To know there are others who struggle in similar ways. To learn more about it to help me understand myself better.

But on the other hand, I’m not sure I like being labeled. I don’t want to be pigeon-holed. Because I am so much more than a collection of quirks and adjectives. It’s like saying that just because I am a teacher or a first-born child or (quite literally) a “Karen” that you know everything about me. You don't.

In short, I don’t want others making assumptions about my abilities and/or limitations based on my being neurodivergent.

Excuses, Excuses

And then there’s the third hand…

While names and labels can define and provide a framework for what I’m experiencing, they can be limiting if I choose to use my neurodivergence as an excuse.

“It’s not me. My ADHD won’t let me focus.”

(I could’ve made a plan to stay organized.)

“Sorry I’m late, but my OCD got the better of me.”

(Maybe I should’ve just left earlier.)

“I can’t. My anxiety is off the charts today.”

(I have plenty of strategies to deal with my anxiety.)

I don’t mean that the conditions can’t affect me in those ways. I’m saying that they don’t always affect me 100% of the time... but they can offer a handy excuse if I need one!

So while identifying as neurodivergent may have become trendy in recent years, it’s important to realize that one person’s neurodivergent profile—the specific collection of conditions as well as the accompanying assortment of symptoms—is not like anyone else’s. Each is as unique as a fingerprint. My swirls and whorls might look similar to yours, but when you look closely, you will see that no two are the same. We are all different.

And a label? Well, that’s just a label.

About the Author:

Karen is a writer, teacher, audiobook lover, and Wordle enthusiast from New Jersey. She has ADHD and OCD—and still cries a lot—but she makes no excuses for any of it. Her favorite activities are spoiling her granddaughter, traveling to warm climates, snort-laughing with friends, and sipping a good Cosmopolitan. Visit her online at www.karenkinley.com.