Because I’m Autistic, I follow many neurodivergent people and groups on social media. There’s a lot of pain and frustration in the community, and it’s wonderful that we have safe places to vent, cry, and reach out.

But I seldom see interactions about the two most powerful aspects of my neurodiversity: Empathy and Intuitive Sensitivity. I’m curious to know how often they occur in ND folks.

If you experience this, please comment! I yearn to connect with others who live with these characteristics.

It’s easy to find social media groups for Intuitives and Empaths. In the late 2000s, the web was saturated with people connecting over the spiritual aspects of the Mayan calendar and the approach of 2012. But I’m unaware of anyone in that circle of my friends who claimed neurodiversity.

I tend to write that off as a lack of public awareness about Autism and ADHD during those years – beyond how it inconvenienced neurotypical people. Now, I find it fascinating that more people aren’t making the connection between our neurological “eccentricities” and spirituality.

For as long as I can remember, and probably times I don’t remember (trauma), I’ve been a sponge for others’ emotions and have sensed interdimensional aspects of my surroundings. As a child, these sensibilities also alerted me to the dangers of revealing my secret inner world to others. When I did, it often resulted in teasing amongst other children, dismissiveness among adults, and derision within my family.

I’m grateful that these characteristics teach me compassion. But sometimes, they’ve also proven my biggest stumbling blocks in “getting along.”

Enveloped in a maelstrom of perceptions, it’s hard to focus on work tasks while absorbing the team’s emotions. It’s impossible to drive through a city without giving too much money to homeless people. It’s a challenge to join a religious community without over-committing time, energy, and funds.

But it’s easy to pray. For that, I’m grateful.

Sensing pain in others – while immersed in my own pain at times – incites me to help, explain, comfort, and encourage. Awkwardly, my neurology also tends to spur me to express compassion in ways that startle others. I can’t count how many times I’ve over-shared at work or made comments within a Dharma community, only to gaze around at my companions and see blank stares or averted eyes.

That’s why I’m so grateful for my diagnosis. It helps me understand why I can’t expect others to “get” me all the time. It’s not my fault, and it’s not their fault. It’s neurological.

Have you ever felt these tugs and trepidations? I’d love to hear your story.

And have a blessed day.