Living with autism and ADHD has its challenges, and one of the most frustrating aspects is how often my actions and intentions are misunderstood by others. It’s like navigating a world where everyone speaks a different language, and I’m constantly trying to translate my thoughts and feelings into something others can understand, but those other people often willfully misunderstand me.

Here are a few instances where my autistic traits have been misconstrued (most of them just this week) and the impact it has on me.

1. Sounding Defensive:

Just the other day, I received feedback that an email reply I wrote sounded defensive. But here’s the thing – I was just trying to be thorough and factual. Emotions didn’t factor into my reply at all because I was too focused on making sure that I covered all of the information I needed to cover and that I was being clear enough that I wouldn’t be misunderstood.

But because someone else decided they needed to tell me how I was feeling based on the feelings that they read into my words, I spent the rest of the week on edge, constantly hyper-analyzing what I was saying and how I was saying it so that I wouldn’t accidentally make someone else uncomfortable. And I still didn’t feel like the initial issues that I was addressing in the email exchange that led to me sending that reply had been recognized. I only felt more isolated from my peers.

When you’re wired like me, emotions tied to words don’t always sync up with what others expect. So, instead of assuming I’m on the defense (or telling me how you think I feel), take my words at face value. I’m not trying to stir up trouble; I’m just trying to communicate.

2. Being Too Direct:

Along a very similar vein, people often seem put off by directness, and it’s usually when they’re talking about the directness of others that I get to see what they truly think. And what they truly think leaves me feeling less safe to unmask and be myself around them.

See, I’ve always been open about my journey with neurodiversity and how much I’ve struggled with social expectations. I even get into how other people’s snap judgments of me leave me feeling isolated and unwanted and how often I’ve just been abandoned by friends who got tired of dealing with me.

But sometimes it feels like people are more shocked by this reality than truly understanding. They’ll criticize the people in my past who made me feel this way and express deep sympathy for what I’ve been through, but then turn around and condemn other people who avoid small talk or lack emotional expression without realizing that what they’re describing are very common autistic traits—the same traits that I have been so often mistreated for.

It’s like they’re showing their true colors without even knowing it. If you want to be truly inclusive of the neurodivergent people in your life (and I promise, there are neurodivergent people in your life), then that means accepting that sort of behavior in everyone. It means being more understanding and less judgmental. Because a neurodivergent person shouldn’t need to tell you they’re neurodivergent for you to accept them.

If they do, then you never really accepted them for who they are in the first place. You just begrudgingly tolerated traits that you think should be changed.

3. Not Smiling; Always Looking Angry; RBF:

This is one that I really struggle with, because I’ll be honest, I have no idea what my face is doing most of the time. I have too much going on in my head to pay attention to that, and the facial expression I make independent of what I’m thinking. Most of the time, I’m just not doing anything with my face at all, which results in a very flat expression. And for some reason, society has decided that no expression is the same as a negative expression. When it’s really not.

Making facial expressions requires a lot of energy and conscious effort for me. Unless the emotions I’m experiencing are particularly intense, I’m usually not overtly aware of them (alexithymia, for more information).

So the times that I do exhibit what you might see as “normal” expressions? It’s because I’m consciously masking to make others more comfortable. It’s not normal for me, and it’s exhausting. And usually, if I’m smiling and I’m not feeling big emotions, it’s more of an indication of how uncomfortable I am in that situation. Not happiness.

Because I’ve been taught that people like me more when I smile. People are nicer to me when I smile. People include me more when I smile. When I smile, it’s mostly for the benefit of others, and, because constantly monitoring my facial expression and making sure that it falls in line with neurotypical norms is such an exhausting process for me, it’s detrimental to my mental and physical health.

But every time I hear a comment exclaiming how surprised, but delighted someone is to see me smiling, or when people make comment about how long I smile in any given situation, that’s direct feedback to me telling me that I’m only acceptable when I’m masking. I’m only acceptable when I’m exhausting myself and sacrificing my own health to please others.

So, can we all just calm down with the comments on other people’s appearance? My resting face isn’t a reflection of my mood; it’s just my face.

4. Asking “Unnecessary” Questions:

In a world where asking questions is often seen as insubordination or incompetence, being autistic can feel like playing a constant game of Mine Sweeper (you remember Mine Sweeper?) where everyone else is playing on a map with clearly marked mines.

Instructions for tasks are often vague, and sometimes that’s because the person asking doesn’t care exactly how it’s done or what it looks like. But other times, it’s because that person isn’t very good at communicating and expects you to just know what they want.

The problem is that in both cases if you deliver something that’s outside of what the person wanted, there are negative consequences. And because autistic people struggle more with neurotypical communication styles, we are much more likely to deliver something outside of what you’re expecting if we don’t ask clarifying questions.

So please, just let me ask my questions. I’m not trying to be difficult. It’s a survival tactic in a world that often feels like it’s speaking a different language. I’m trying to save us both time and headaches in the long-run.

5. Being Too Sensitive:

Growing up, I was always told I was “too sensitive.” This was both an insult and a condemnation, and it was often coupled with the advice that I “just stop” being so sensitive as if it were something I controlled.

But here’s the thing–I am more sensitive than neurotypical people. That’s literally what autism does. I don’t have any more control over it than you do to your response to burning your hand on a hot stove.

For me lights are brighter, sounds are louder, and smells are smellier. Worse yet, because of my sensory processing disorder, my brain isn’t capable of ignoring any of it. Most people can ignore background noises in a restaurant to focus on the conversation they’re having with a companion. Not me. My brain gives equal attention to every single input it receives regardless of actual importance. So, I’m sorry, you’re going to have to repeat what you said. I couldn’t hear you because the smell of someone else’s food was too loud. And now I need to go home because I have a migraine because the fluorescent lights won’t stop screaming at me.

There’s nothing I can do about it, and believe me; it sucks much more for me than it inconveniences you. So, instead of judging, try showing a little compassion.

These instances of misunderstanding and dismissal highlight the pervasive misconceptions surrounding neurodiversity. It’s a reminder that true inclusivity requires more than just tolerance—it demands empathy, understanding, and a willingness to challenge preconceived notions.

As we continue to navigate a world that often feels alienating, let’s strive to cultivate environments where everyone feels accepted and valued for who they are, regardless of their neurodiversity. Together, we can foster a society that celebrates diversity in all its forms, embracing the richness that comes from our unique perspectives and experiences.