Neurodivergence, Trauma, and the Struggle for Social Safety
How Complex PTSD and Misunderstood Minds Intertwine
Neurodivergent people—those of us with ADHD, autism, and other beautifully different ways of thinking—often grow up feeling like we just can’t quite get it right. Like we’re too much or not enough. What’s often missing from this conversation, though, is a deeper truth:
Many of us carry trauma—not always from a single event, but from a lifetime of being misunderstood, dismissed, or excluded.
When I first began to explore the intersection of neurodivergence and trauma, something clicked in my heart. It helped me understand not only my clients and community more deeply, but also myself. There’s a reason why so many neurodivergent people experience emotional overwhelm, deep sensitivity, or Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. It’s not just a "symptom"—it’s a survival strategy.
A Nervous System Shaped by Misattunement
Think of a neurodivergent child—full of creativity, movement, curiosity, and feeling. Now imagine that child constantly being told to sit still, be quieter, do it “the normal way.” Over time, they may begin to believe that their natural instincts are wrong. That they are wrong.
Dr. Gabor Maté, Dr. Arielle Schwartz, and Dr. Janina Fisher all speak to this: when our authentic selves are repeatedly invalidated, our nervous system adapts—not toward connection, but toward survival. The result? Chronic anxiety. Emotional dysregulation. A deep mistrust of others. These aren’t personality flaws. They’re trauma responses.
The Body Remembers What the World Forgot
We often think of trauma as a singular moment. But for many neurodivergent folks, trauma is relational. It's in the side comments, the eye rolls, the being picked last or always being "too intense." It's in not being invited. Not being understood. Being praised only when masking.
This is the landscape of Complex PTSD—an ongoing, subtle, and chronic rupture in the feeling of being safe with others. Over time, we disconnect from our bodies, numb our needs, and begin to see the world through the lens of potential rejection or shame.
Dr. Janina Fisher calls this “a nervous system stuck in survival.” And when your nervous system is always bracing for rejection, it’s nearly impossible to settle into connection.
Why Belonging is More Than Just a Feeling
From an evolutionary perspective, being part of the group meant safety—especially for children. When a neurodivergent child is repeatedly misunderstood or punished for their natural tendencies, they don’t just feel sad—they feel unsafe.
This can lead to:
Heightened sensitivity to perceived rejection (RSD)
Difficulty regulating emotions
Dissociation or shutdown
Deep mistrust of connection—even when it’s healthy
One powerful metaphor used in trauma work is the zebra. After escaping danger, a zebra instinctively shakes its body to release the stress. But if the zebra can’t return to the safety of its herd, it doesn’t reset. It stays on high alert. It holds the trauma in its body.
Many neurodivergent people are like that zebra—stuck in survival because the "herd" never felt safe.
What Healing Can Look Like
The good news is: healing is possible. And it doesn’t start with forcing ourselves to “act normal.” It starts with compassion. With understanding. With community.
Healing begins when we realize that:
Many of our “symptoms” are actually protective adaptations
We deserve relationships where we don’t have to mask
Our bodies hold the key to healing—but only when they feel safe
We are not alone in this experience
What helps:
Somatic practices like breathwork, movement, and grounding can help reconnect us with our bodies
Trauma-informed relationships (including therapists, peers, and support groups) offer vital co-regulation
Self-compassion creates space to soften our inner critic and begin to trust again
Reframing our story reminds us that we are not broken—we are wise, resilient, and sensitive in ways that matter deeply
We Are Not the Problem—We Are the Signal
I believe neurodivergent people are the canaries in the coal mine of our culture. We carry the signals of what isn’t working—and the medicine for what could.
If you’ve ever felt like you just can’t relax around others... like you're always one misstep away from rejection... or like the world just wasn’t built with you in mind—please know this:
You are not alone.
You are not broken.
Your body is doing exactly what it needed to survive.
And now, you get to begin the slow, sacred process of coming home to yourself.
Want to explore this more?
If you’re curious about how trauma and neurodivergence might be shaping your experience—and how to begin healing in a way that truly honors who you are—I invite you to reach out or schedule a consultation. Healing doesn’t happen in isolation. It happens in relationship, and you don’t have to do it alone.
