Why neurodivergent people are more vulnerable to abuse

Reading time: 3 minutes

Have you ever wondered if someone’s treatment of you was really abusive—or if you were just “too sensitive”?

Were you told you misunderstood, even though every part of you was screaming something felt wrong?

If so, you’re not alone—and you’re definitely not imagining it.

Neurodivergent abuse vulnerability is not a question of weakness. It’s a question of how society shapes us to ignore our instincts, misread red flags, and accept mistreatment as normal.

Let’s break down why this happens—and how to start protecting yourself.

The Hidden Ways Ableism Makes Abuse Harder to Spot

Neurodivergents (NDs) often experience delayed processing. That means we might not recognize red flags in real time. When we do realize we were hurt, we’re already doubting ourselves: Was that abuse? Or am I just being dramatic?

This is one of the ways neurodivergent abuse vulnerability shows up—when we’ve been taught not to trust ourselves.

Years of ableist messaging tell us we’re too much, too rigid, too emotional. Our discomfort must be “wrong.” And so we hesitate, minimize, and blame ourselves.

Sensory Overload: A Predator’s Playground

Think about how hard it is to make a clear decision in a loud, chaotic environment. Now imagine trying to detect manipulation or boundary violations in that state.

This is where neurodivergent abuse vulnerability becomes especially dangerous. Our nervous systems go into shutdown mode, and our ability to self-advocate is compromised.

Unfortunately, some people take advantage of this. They push limits when they know we’re overwhelmed and unable to respond. Later, when we replay the interaction in our heads, we realize: That wasn’t okay.

But in the moment? We were just trying to survive the noise.

When Boundaries Were Never Modeled—or Respected

Many NDs grew up being scolded for expressing natural traits. Whether it was stimming, speaking honestly, or needing alone time, we were told it was “wrong.”

When our needs are consistently dismissed, we lose touch with what healthy boundaries even look like.

But if we’re not taught to recognize or defend our limits, it’s far easier for others to cross them. Especially when we’ve been conditioned to equate love with tolerating discomfort.

People-Pleasing Isn’t a Personality Flaw—It’s a Survival Strategy

Masking. Apologizing. Minimizing our needs. These could be perceived as weakness, but they’re actually protective responses to a world that’s made us feel like we’re hard to love.

And they feed into neurodivergent abuse vulnerability by making it easier for others to take advantage of our silence.

We may find ourselves staying in friendships, jobs, or relationships that feel wrong—but leaving feels like we’re being “mean.” So we stay. And hurt.

Why It’s So Hard to Leave

Even when we know we’re being mistreated, taking action can feel like climbing a mountain.

Fear of abandonment and internalized self-doubt all reinforce our vulnerability to abuse. We may even worry that we’re the ones at fault: What if I’m just not good at relationships?

NDs also face extra barriers when asking for help. We might struggle to explain what’s happening in a way others understand—or get dismissed because we don’t present our pain in neurotypical (NT) ways.

This is a major reason why many of us remain in unsafe situations longer than we should.

You Deserve Safety—Even If It Comes in Small Steps

If something feels off, it is. Your discomfort is valid, even if your reaction was delayed. You don’t have to explain away your gut feelings or rationalize mistreatment. Neurodivergent abuse vulnerability doesn’t mean your experiences are any less real—it just means the world hasn’t made it easy for you to respond in real time.

So what can you do when you’re not sure how to act, or when it all feels too overwhelming?

Start small. You don’t need to have it all figured out. Begin by writing things down—specific situations, words, or behaviors that made you feel uncomfortable. Documenting events helps counter self-doubt and gives you something to refer back to when your mind starts second-guessing itself.

Talk to a trusted friend. Sometimes we need another perspective to validate what we already suspect. Choose someone who listens without judgment and respects your pace. It’s okay if you can’t articulate everything perfectly—just naming that something feels wrong is enough.

Practice simple boundary-setting scripts. Boundaries don’t have to be confrontational. They can be calm, clear, and gentle. Try phrases like:

• “I need a minute to think before I respond.”
• “I’m not comfortable with that.”
• “Can we talk about this another time?”
• “That didn’t feel okay to me.”

You can even write these down or rehearse them ahead of time. Having a few go-to lines ready makes it easier to respond under pressure—especially when processing takes longer or emotions feel overwhelming.

And remember: just because you didn’t say something in the moment doesn’t mean your boundary wasn’t valid. Your reaction doesn’t have to be immediate to be real.

The goal isn’t to get it “perfect.” It’s to start honoring your own needs and instincts—bit by bit.

Have you ever struggled to trust your instincts in a relationship? What helped you start setting boundaries or recognizing mistreatment for what it was?