No one really tells you this part.
They tell you to be yourself.
They praise diversity in theory.
They celebrate inclusion – safely, abstractly.
But being different – actually different – is lonely.
Neurodivergence is still poorly understood in our society. And in communities with an average age of 60+, that misunderstanding hardens into something structural.
š§ Difference Is Not Read as Difference
Itās Read as a Defect
Direct communication becomes abrasive.
Persistence becomes difficult.
Emotional intensity becomes instability.
Boundaries become attitude.
Not because harm is being done – but because deviation from the norm makes people uncomfortable, and discomfort is easier to project than to examine.
š°ļø Generational Blind Spots Exist
Whether We Like It or Not
This isnāt about blaming age.
Itās about acknowledging history.
Many people were shaped by a time when:
- conformity was rewarded,
- difference was corrected,
- silence was virtue,
- authority was not questioned.
Neurodivergence had no language then.
Accommodation wasnāt a concept.
Impact mattered less than tone.
So when someone doesnāt fit, the reflex isnāt curiosity.
Itās control.
āļø The Asymmetry Is Real – and Draining
The burden is rarely shared.
The neurodivergent person is expected to:
- explain themselves,
- soften themselves,
- translate themselves,
- apologize for existing clearly, or persistently.
The community is rarely asked to stretch in return.
Belonging becomes conditional:
You may stay – as long as you behave like us.
That isnāt inclusion.
Itās containment.
š³ļø Loneliness Is the Price of Clarity
Thereās a quiet grief in realizing that no amount of explaining will make some people see you.
Not because youāre wrong.
But because seeing you would require them to question what theyāve always believed about what is normal, proper, acceptable.
And many wonāt.
š§© A Hard Truth
Yes – being different is lonely.
But it is also honest.
And eventually, you learn this: It is better to be lonely as yourself than accepted as a version of you that was carefully edited to keep others comfortable.
Belonging that requires self-erasure
is not belonging at all.
š„ And Still – I Would Not Change It
I would not change being different for anything.
Not for easier conversations.
Not for smoother meetings.
Not for conditional acceptance.
Because difference is not a flaw to be managed.
It is perception sharpened by honesty.
It is conscience unblurred by convenience.
It is the refusal to disappear quietly.
Lonely, sometimes – yes.
But compromised? Never.
