From overload to understanding: Experiences of neurodivergent people

A Recipe for Sadness

What should have been a day of rest became something very different.

I recently visited a well-known spa for the day, a gift from my former employer. It was meant to be calming and restorative, but instead it quietly unraveled me.

From the moment I arrived, I felt lost because there was no clear signage, and I went to the wrong reception. The staff were kind, but the directions they gave me were fast and information-heavy, too quick for me to properly process, and by the time I reached the changing rooms, my nervous system was already under strain.

The lockers felt impossibly complicated, and asking for help made me feel like a nuisance, even though no one actually treated me that way. This distinction matters: the difficulty was not rudeness or unkindness, it was the cognitive and emotional effort required to keep orientating myself in an unfamiliar system. For neurodivergent people, navigating public spaces or services can be draining and stressful.

Then it came to lunch, and as I walked into the restaurant there was no signage to tell me what I was meant to do, so I stood alone and waited for someone to notice me. The wait felt like an eternity. I was then advised that I had been allocated a table, which was sat between two couples. I asked if perhaps I could be moved to a quieter table, but I was told ‘no that is a table for two’, when in reality a simple chair swap would have facilitated my request and made me much more comfortable. When I did sit down, no one brought me any water or offered me another drink, even though other tables around me were being served. Yes, I could have asked them for some water, but the energy needed to do this just wasn't there. I couldn't stop thinking that maybe they saw me as a ‘troublemaker’ for having asked for a quieter spot, or were deliberately keeping their distance in the hope that I wouldn't make any other requests. My empty water glass became a quiet symbol of the whole day of how invisible I felt, how my basic needs were not being met, and how exhausting simply existing in this space had become.

Emotional Impact of Everyday Interactions

By this point, the energy I had expended simply trying to manage what others seemed to instinctively understand had taken a serious toll. When I realised I did not have a towel and needed to return to reception again, I was close to tears.

People who know me may be surprised by this, as I am often perceived as capable, composed, and very "normal". Yet this is what moving through the world can feel like for a neurodivergent person, particularly when alone and in an unfamiliar environment. It doesn’t make me any less capable, it just means my needs can be different.

Many people would have turned this frustration inward by now, labelling themselves stupid, awkward, or high maintenance, which is where the real harm often lies. Needing something different shouldn’t be a problem; our needs are different, and asking questions that seem small or obvious to others can be exhausting, often requiring a fight against an internal voice that tells us we are an inconvenience when in reality we are simply human.

If you have ever felt embarrassed by how much something small affected you or confused about why everyday situations seem to take so much out of you, there is nothing wrong with you. Whether neurodivergent or neurotypical, we can all struggle for our own reasons.

Why Understanding Matters

I am sharing this to widen understanding and to name experiences that are rarely spoken about, because kindness and good intentions are not always enough when systems rely on unspoken rules and assumptions.

Sometimes what looks like overreaction is actually overload, and what looks like competence is often masking. And sometimes what helps most is making spaces easier to navigate. This is not only important for neurodivergent people…someone with social anxiety or other hidden differences may struggle just as much. It is about reducing barriers and creating clarity so people can manage and feel safe. We aren't asking for the moon and stars.

By reflecting on experiences like this, we can learn to be gentler with ourselves and more attentive to the needs of others, recognising that small adjustments and understanding can make a profound difference in everyday life.