Why we often only recognize neurodivergence when someone hits a wall

Today I turn 40. For many people, that is a moment when they say: "Now I finally know who I am and how the world works." But for me, it feels different. You see, I only found out how my mind really works sometime in the past seven years.

It was only then that I discovered I am gifted. And that my brain is wired just a bit differently than most people's. If you discover something like this when you are already in your thirties, you often get one question from the people around you. And to be honest, I asked myself that question too: Why did no one see this sooner? How is it possible to walk around for over thirty years with a mind that thinks so fast and feels so much, without anyone noticing? Without teachers, doctors, or yourself understanding what is going on?

For a long time, I thought it was my own fault. I thought I hadn't looked closely enough at myself. Or that I was simply very complicated. But if you look at what science says about this, you discover something completely different. It's not that we are extra good at hiding. It is because of how our world is built.

Deficit

When I was a child, schools looked at people in a very simple way. They only paid attention to you if something went wrong. If you couldn't sit still in class, if you started fights, or if you got terrible grades. Only then would they investigate whether you might need extra help. Scientists call this the medical deficit model. They only look at what is missing or what is broken.

But what if you prefer to solve things internally? What if you sit quietly in class and just get decent grades on your tests? Then, to the outside world, you seem very successful. You fit the picture perfectly. What the teachers couldn't see, was that sometimes it still took me a lot of effort. My mind was always running in top gear to understand what was expected. Because I got good grades and didn't stand out, no alarm bells went off anywhere. No one checks under the hood if the car just keeps running. Even if the engine is overheating.

Role

A second reason is something scientists call camouflaging. You can also call it masking. If you are gifted, you often figure out very quickly how other people act. You watch the children in your class. You listen to what adults want to hear. And without realizing it, you start to imitate that. You do your best to appear as normal as possible.

For me, that was completely normal. I saw how the world worked and I adapted. If there was too much noise or too much going on, I didn't let it show. I played the role that was asked of me. We do this to fit in and to be safe. The only problem is that it doesn't happen effortlessly. Playing a role all day and pretending takes a tremendous amount of energy. It completely drains your mind.

Asynchronous

There is another strange thing that happens when you are gifted. You don't grow at the same pace in every area. Scientists call this asynchronous development.

When I was young, I could think about things that adults thought about. My brain worked at lightning speed. But at the same time, I could feel overwhelmed or scared by things that other children found completely normal. My emotions were sometimes much younger than my intellect.

You then see someone who seems to be keeping up well, but who can also get tired, overstimulated, or sad very quickly. That is why many people like me received the wrong labels in the past. They said we were anxious. Or too sensitive. Or depressed. It was only much later that they saw how all those separate pieces belonged together. They finally saw the complete picture: a brain that thinks incredibly fast, and as a result, gets overwhelmed incredibly fast too.

Rubber Band

And then there is the question of why so many people only figure this out when they are around 30 or 40 years old. Why doesn't this happen when you're 20?

Biology has a very clear answer to this. Your body stores up all the stress and fatigue. When you are 20, you are still very strong and flexible. Just like a new rubber band. You can still endure the crowds, the stimuli, and the role-playing. You get tired, but after a weekend of sleep, you are ready to go again.

But as you approach 40, that changes. You get busier. Perhaps with work, a house, or the expectations of others. At the same time, that rubber band of your body becomes a bit less flexible. It has been stretched for years to act normal in a world that is actually too overwhelming for you. Around 40, the rubber band has become a bit worn out. It doesn't stretch anymore. Your bucket overflows. Not because the problems are suddenly bigger, but because the bottom of your bucket has worn thin after all those years. That is why it makes perfect sense that we only discover it so late. You only find out the moment you can no longer pretend.

Hard Work

Today I blow out 40 candles. And for the first time, that feels completely right. I no longer look back at those early years thinking I wasted time. I wasn't broken. My environment was simply paying attention to the wrong things. For years, I worked incredibly hard to function in a world that wasn't built for me. And I did a very good job of it.

But by now, I know better. I am allowed to just be myself, with my lightning-fast mind, my need for rest, and my own boundaries. And that might just be the most beautiful birthday present I can give myself.

Why we often only recognize neurodivergence when someone hits a wall

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