Censoring Our Thoughts
Every day, we silently edit our thoughts before they become words. We consider what we’re about to say, deciding if it will sound “normal” or “good” to the people around us. For some, this is a minor, almost unconscious process. For others, particularly those who are neurodivergent, it's an exhausting, constant struggle. This act of self-censoring is a heavy burden, a mental tax paid in the effort to fit in, and it's something I, living with nonverbal learning disability (NLD), experience daily.
This is a familiar feeling for many of us who are neurodivergent. It’s not just about filtering our words; it's about putting on a mask. We constantly monitor our tone, our expressions, and our body language. It’s an exhausting performance that feels necessary to navigate social situations, especially around people who don't understand our unique way of thinking and communicating. This need to constantly self-censor can lead to a state of heightened anxiety and even physical symptoms, like the migraines I experience. My brain is often in overdrive, overthinking and complicating situations that others find simple.
The Shame of Being Different
In an article titled “Uncensoring Ourselves,” Jez, Chun, and Tiffany Yu discuss how shame plays a huge role in preventing people from seeking help for their mental health. They describe how, for many people, shame has kept them from even getting to know their true selves. This resonates deeply with me. The shame of being different—of not understanding social cues, of speaking in a way that doesn’t always make sense to others—has been a constant companion. It's a sad reality when you feel you can't even allow yourself to think certain thoughts because you’ve been conditioned to believe they are wrong or unacceptable.
For me, the shame is not just tied to my NLD, but also to past childhood trauma. While I know it wasn't my fault, the feeling of being the only one who could stop what was happening created a sense of responsibility and shame. This feeling lingers, influencing how I interact with the world and my persistent need to censor myself.
The High Cost of Self-Censoring
Another article, “The High Cost of Self-Censoring or Why Stemming is a Good Thing,” highlights the constant vigilance neurodivergent adults feel in social situations. The author, Espy, describes a checklist of things to avoid: saying the wrong thing, laughing at the wrong time, speaking too loudly or too softly, or—above all—stemming, which are repetitive body movements often used for self-regulation.
I relate to this on a fundamental level. When I'm around people who don't know about my NLD, I feel the need to be more cautious. I become hyper-aware of everything I say and do, putting on a “mask” to hide my differences. I worry about staying on topic and making sure my thoughts come across as coherent. Even with people who know I'm neurodivergent, I still feel this pressure. I don't want to lose the social skills I've worked so hard to develop, but it's a fine line between being authentic and ensuring the other person remains engaged in the conversation.
The Challenge of Expression
Alison Ledewandt, who has a master's in speech-language pathology, writes about her experience with stuttering in the article “Stuttering is a Type of Neurodivergence.” She recounts being told to "think about what you want to say before you say it" and having people finish her sentences for her. While I don't stutter, I understand her frustration. This is exactly what I do every time I speak, type an email, or even post on social media. I'm constantly trying to make sure what I'm saying makes sense to others, which is a major challenge when I'm not entirely sure what I'm trying to say myself. The process is slow and deliberate, and after nine years of conscious effort, I’m still working on getting it right.
Fighting for Your Place in the World
In "What Don’t We Talk About When We Talk Neurodivergence," Sienna Rothy writes, "No one likes being laughed at. If there's a chance of being ridiculed or underestimated, many would rather suffer in silence." This quote brought back a painful memory from my childhood. I was at a concert with my Girl Scout troop, dancing and having fun. Unaware, I was being made fun of by the other girls. Looking back, I don't think I would change a thing. In that moment, by continuing to dance, I was unconsciously sticking up for myself. I was choosing joy and authenticity over their ridicule.
It’s easy to lose conviction in yourself when you feel like you're the only one fighting a battle no one else understands. But as Rothy says, you are not silly for having ambitions. You are not stupid. We have spent a lot of time in environments that have crushed our confidence, but we are not defined by those experiences.
I love who I am—my resilience, my determination, and my willingness to keep trying. I am a fighter who never gives up on making life easier for myself and others. I'm not afraid to try new things, even when the possibility of failure looms. After all, if you never try, you can never succeed.
Recently, I’ve been trying to put this into practice. I'm getting an eye exam to explore the option of getting migraine glasses, and I plan to attend a drum circle in my neighborhood. I hope these small steps encourage you to try something new, too. You might discover a new passion or a new part of yourself.
