Finding connection when you’re neurodivergent

Essy Knopf neurodivergent belonging
Reading time: 3 minutes

Before attending the event, you prepare a few questions in advance.

Once you’re there, you remind yourself not to interrupt, talk too much, or get carried away discussing something that interests you.

Even with all that preparation, the interaction may still feel strained.

Perhaps the other person becomes distracted or gives shorter responses. Maybe they change the subject abruptly or seem eager to end the conversation.

Afterward, it can be difficult not to wonder what went wrong.

When rejection turns into self-criticism

Repeated social difficulties can leave a lasting impression.

You may begin thinking: I talked too much. I was too intense. They must’ve thought I was strange.

These conclusions can feel convincing, particularly when they echo messages you have received over many years. Being corrected, excluded, misunderstood, or treated as socially inappropriate can gradually shape the way you as a neurodivergent person interpret later interactions.

This can also lead to you repeatedly replaying conversations. You might find yourself perseverating over others’ facial expressions, pauses, changes in tone, or particular words and trying to determine what they meant.

Although this may feel like an attempt to learn from the experience, it can easily become exhausting self-monitoring rather than useful reflection.

Social difficulties do not happen in isolation

Neurodivergent people may be quick to assume that a difficult interaction reflects something they did wrong. But social communication is shaped by both people.

Your direct question may be interpreted as confrontational. Your enthusiasm may be read as being overly intense. A neurodivergent person’s indirect communication may be difficult to follow. Two people may also simply have different expectations around humor, openness, pacing, or emotional expression.

The double empathy problem offers one way of understanding this. Misunderstanding between neurodivergents and neurotypicals can be mutual rather than the result of a deficit on one side.

Not every unsuccessful interaction needs to be treated as a mistake that must be identified and corrected.

Sometimes the issue is simply a poor interpersonal fit.

Essy Knopf neurodivergent belonging

Masking can complicate belonging

For people who have experienced frequent rejection, masking may become a form of protection.

As neurodivergents, we often learn to speak less, suppress stimming, avoid discussing your interests, or carefully monitor how we are coming across to avoid being socially punished.

These strategies can certainly reduce social risk, but they can also make genuine connection more difficult, because other people are interacting with a highly managed version of you.

Not that one should abandon caution or disclosing everything immediately. What I’m suggesting is that it might be possible to allow more room, gradually and selectively, for your natural communication style, interests, and preferences to be visible.

Neurodivergent belonging can prove even more difficult to build when acceptance depends entirely on concealment.

Pay attention to compatibility

It can be useful to shift attention away from whether you successfully impressed someone and toward what the interaction was actually like for you.

Were you able to speak without monitoring every sentence? Did the other person show genuine interest? Could a misunderstanding be clarified without becoming a major rupture? Did you feel respected, even when your communication styles differed?

These questions offer information about compatibility rather than social performance.

You don’t need to be equally comfortable with everyone to belong. What is needed, rather, is relationships in which difference can exist without becoming a constant source of tension or judgment.

Wrap Up

After years of difficult social experiences, an awkward interaction can easily feel like confirmation of an old belief about yourself.

It may be more useful to consider a wider range of explanations, such as anxiety, incompatible communication styles, misunderstanding, the social setting, or simply a lack of mutual connection.

Finding meaningful relationships is not only a matter of improving social skill; it also involves finding people with whom understanding, respect, and reciprocity are possible.

Navigating social niceties as a neurodivergent

Essy Knopf neurodivergent social cues
Reading time: 2 minutes

When I lived in LA, I frequently encountered something I called “California nice.”

Strangers would chat with me at ice cream shops, supermarkets, beaches—almost anywhere. They were often warm, open, casual, and easygoing. They talked as though we already knew each other.

And honestly? It was lovely.

But as a neurodivergent, I learned quickly that friendliness didn’t always mean openness to friendship.

Someone might say, “We should totally hang out sometime,” and I would think, Ah. So we are absolutely not going to hang out.

Maybe they meant it, and maybe they didn’t. But I had no reliable way of knowing, so I treated it as social decoration: pleasant, but not necessarily meaningful.

The Confusion of Social Grooming

Many neurodivergents encounter some version of “California nice,” whether or not they live anywhere near California.

People smile, ask questions, say kind things, and perform warmth.

Often, it’s hard to know whether these social cues reflect genuine interest or simply ritualistic responses. Sometimes it’s just the social currency of the moment.

For autistic and ADHD people, this can be incredibly confusing. We may wonder: Is this person actually interested in me? Are they inviting closeness, or just being polite? Can I be myself here, or will that be “too much”?

The stakes can feel high because opening up to the wrong person can be painful.

Maybe we share too much too soon, start talking passionately about a special interest, or be direct, intense, blunt, darkly funny, or emotionally honest before the other person is ready.

And suddenly, what felt like connection becomes distance.

Try the Relay Race Approach

One helpful strategy is to treat conversation like a relay race.

In a relay race, you don’t hold onto the baton forever. You run your stretch, then pass it on.

Conversation can work the same way.

You share a little. They share a little. You ask something. They respond.

You offer one small piece of yourself. Then you pause and see what they do with it.

Think teaspoons, not tablespoons.

Instead of pouring out your whole inner world at once, you offer small amounts and watch for reciprocity. Do they ask follow-up questions? Do they share something personal too? Do they seem curious, comfortable, and engaged?

The key here is to pace revealing who you are so you can gather information and protect your nervous system.

Essy Knopf neurodivergent social cues

Pacing Can Create Safety

For many neurodivergents, social success is about finding ways to connect that don’t require abandoning ourselves.

Pacing gives us room to notice whether someone is capable of meeting us with curiosity, respect, and care. It helps us avoid the painful experience of offering vulnerability to people who only meant to exchange politeness.

And when someone does respond warmly—when they pick up the baton and pass it back—that’s useful information.

That may be someone worth getting to know.

Wrap Up

Navigating neurotypical social niceties can feel like trying to decode a language where half the words are implied and the rules keep changing.

But with social pacing, we can move more gently, protect ourselves from unnecessary hurt, and still leave space for real connection.

Have you ever struggled to tell the difference between friendliness and genuine friendship?