I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the amount of extra work that neurodivergent people are forced to take on throughout their lives to accommodate others. Even small requests for accommodations are frequently disregarded, while we’re forced to bend over backward for others’ comfort.

Many of the neurodivergent people I know become their offices’ go-to unofficial planners and coordinators, managing everything from birthday celebrations to ordering lunch. Ironic, considering the stereotype that those of us with ADHD can’t plan or follow a schedule. But the reality is that we’ve spent our entire lives planning and coordinating every interaction down to the smallest detail—just to survive.

Meanwhile, neurotypical people often coast through life without needing to develop these skills until well into adulthood. They aren’t challenged in these areas until later in life because everything in our society has been designed to fit their needs.

You’d think learning these skills early on would make it easier for us when we’re older. But, instead of being able to coast by while NT people catch up, all of our hard work and exhaustive practices are rewarded by being given further unpaid labor. Our neurotypical colleagues often say, “You’re just so much better at it,” if we ask them to step up. But this “compliment” is really just their way of avoiding learning the skills themselves.

This wouldn’t bother me so much if we weren’t also delegitimized or made to feel lazy when we struggle or ask for help. The truth is, most people don’t want to confront the reality of our disabilities—it’s inconvenient for them. It forces them to think about privileges they’ve taken for granted. So, instead, neurodivergent people learn to diminish our needs, to put ourselves last, and to feel ashamed of asking for anything different from the “norm.”

For me, this internalization runs deep. Even in workplaces where my employer is flexible and understanding, like my current one, I am reluctant to ask for time off. I have trouble acknowledging the symptoms or fallout of overtaxing my disability as being sick. I worked for 5 hours one day on the tail end of a vestibular migraine. I pushed myself to continue long after the screen blurred because I’ve been conditioned to believe I shouldn’t need accommodations. I’ve been made to feel that needing them is a moral failing.

This mindset is not only unhealthy, it’s unsustainable. But it’s reinforced by a society that pressures disabled people to “tough it out.” Many workplaces make it difficult to ask for accommodations, and when we do, our needs are questioned or dismissed.

When I requested accommodations at a previous job, with a written doctor’s note explicitly laying out what I needed and why, the response from HR questioned the validity of my need. They dismissively said, “I don’t see how this would help with autism,” as if they knew better than the doctor.

The HR rep treated me like I was trying to dodge work when, in reality, I was trying to find a way to do my job more effectively. It was already a challenge to overcome the societal stigma of being “needy,” and her dismissive attitude was degrading. And my experience is far from unique.

Even when we find jobs that don’t outright reject our needs, we still face negative reinforcement from our daily social interactions. Most people don’t realize the damaging impact of their words and actions when they reinforce harmful stereotypes about disability.

People I know casually will listen to me talk about my struggles with social situations and how much I have to analyze every move I make to avoid any potential faux pas and say things like, “No one would ever make fun of you for that!” Then, they’ll turn around and make taunting jokes about the “weird” guy at work or the person with intense, nerdy interests.

They think it’s harmless as long as the person isn’t around. But we’re still neurodivergent when the conversation shifts, and we see how you talk about other “weird” people.

If called out for their actions, these same people will claim it’s just a joke, and we’re overreacting. Or, if the person they mock happens to be on the spectrum and you point that out, they’ll balk and pearl-clutch, saying things like, “Well, I never would have said those things if I had known!”

But why should your taunting someone only matter if the person is disabled? Why is it okay to make fun of someone for being awkward or having intense interests, but only if they’re just weird and not autistic. And why should we have to disclose our diagnosis to everyone to live our lives without being mocked?

Regardless of the excuses people give, the way they behave in these situations gives away how they really think of ND people. And it’s these actions that reinforce how unwelcome we feel in society. More than half of autistic adults have seriously considered suicide, and a staggering 35% have actually attempted.

We live in a world that doesn’t understand neurodivergence and doesn’t want to. The ostracizing of ND people is so ingrained in our culture that most don’t even realize when they’re reinforcing it. What this leads to is ND people who spend their whole lives masking their true selves to be accepted by those around them until they just can’t do it anymore. And when we can’t do it anymore, the results are often brutal.

Because the truth is, no amount of trying to change ourselves to fit society’s expectations will ever make us feel at home in our own skin. We will never be neurotypical, no matter how hard we try. The only way forward is to stop forcing each other to diminish who we are and to start demanding a world that accommodates everyone’s needs. We need to create a world that doesn’t save its sympathy and understanding only for those who have a stated diagnosis. We need to do better.