Community Matters: Building Connections as a Neurospicy Parent
Finding Support, Embracing Differences, and Building a Village That Understands
Being a neurospicy parent can often feel like you’re navigating a labyrinth without a map. From the very beginning of my parenting journey, I sensed a certain friction in how I related to the world—and how my kids did, too. There was constant dysregulation, frustration, and exhaustion. My partner and I spent years masking our differences, unsure of what was “normal” and what might be signs of something deeper. Despite our best intentions, each day felt like a struggle, and we were often overwhelmed by fear, guilt, and the sense that we were failing at this whole parenting thing.
Thankfully, I was not on this journey alone. My partner has always been the family’s “Indiana Jones of knowledge,” fearlessly delving into books, articles, and online communities to figure out what made our household so unique. They researched behavioral techniques, neurological differences, and a variety of therapeutic approaches. Slowly, the pieces began to fall into place. We realized that our brains—and our children’s brains—operated a bit differently. That’s when we learned the term “neurospicy,” which, for us, felt more liberating than labels like “neurodivergent.” We also came across concepts like Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA), which explained some of our kids’ behavior and why certain parenting methods, like ABA, simply didn’t work in our household.
At first, this revelation didn’t magically solve all our problems—far from it. We still had to deal with late-night meltdowns, constant tension, and the inevitable guilt that comes with not understanding your own children’s needs. But acknowledging that we were neurospicy gave us a new lens through which to interpret ourselves and our kids. It wasn’t a matter of being “bad parents” or having “bad children,” but rather a mismatch between the conventional expectations of the world and our unique way of processing and responding to stimuli. This shift in perspective alone brought immense relief, lessening the emotional weight we’d been carrying.
What truly propelled us forward, though, was community. Once we started seeing our experiences in online forums—places like Reddit’s r/neurodiversity or r/autisticparents—and even specialized communities such as AtPeaceParents, we discovered that countless families grappled with the exact same things we did. Deep, dark moments of despair, fear that our children were “broken,” the shame of not living up to societal standards—all these experiences were echoed by parents who’d walked a similar path. Their stories gave us hope and kept us from giving up in our darkest hours.
The Power of Community: Online vs. In-Person Connections
Our first significant breakthrough came from connecting with others online. For many neurospicy individuals, the internet can be a godsend. You can process before responding, avoid eye contact if that’s stressful, and engage on your own terms. In-person meetups, while beneficial for some, require an entirely different kind of energy expenditure—one that many of us simply don’t have at the end of a long week of masking and managing sensory overloads.
That’s not to say in-person events can’t be wonderful. Some parents thrive on face-to-face engagement, where a warm hug or shared laughter can create an instant bond. But for us, the freedom of an online forum was unparalleled. My partner could jump onto a support group at three in the morning, post about the meltdown that happened an hour earlier, and receive comforting words from parents halfway across the world by breakfast. This sense of real-time support, free from the constraints of location or schedules, made the internet our first safe harbor.
Still, it’s important to note that not every online group or in-person meetup is created equal. We stumbled across communities that felt downright toxic—where parents bashed each other for different approaches or where negativity overshadowed genuine support. Others seemed more like research projects for neurotypicals looking to “study” us rather than empathize with us. Learning to filter out the unhelpful spaces was crucial.
Hidden Barriers to Connection
Even after discovering these valuable communities, I realized how scary it could be to open up. There’s a vulnerability in admitting, “I’m overwhelmed,” or “I have no idea how to handle my child’s demand-avoidant behaviors.” Many of us have been judged by friends, family, or even health professionals who underestimate just how deeply being neurospicy can impact daily life. We worry people will say we’re making excuses or that we’re lazy, unfit parents.
My partner and I often refer to the “mental exhaustion toll” of constantly explaining ourselves. When you’re neurospicy, you don’t just experience the world differently—you often have to defend or justify those differences. Why does your child refuse to comply with simple instructions? Why can’t you just implement a reward chart and expect everything to fall in line? People sometimes assume we’re incompetent rather than recognizing that our brains operate according to different rules.
Over time, however, being in the right community helped me learn a critical lesson: I don’t have to justify every aspect of my neurospiciness. The right people understand that “different” isn’t synonymous with “broken.” The right allies ask what accommodations you might need, not whether you can “just try harder.” Shedding the burden of constant explanation was a liberating experience that helped me regain mental energy and focus on actual problem-solving rather than self-defense.
The Neurodifficult World and Misunderstandings
Building connections within neurotypical (or what I call “neurodifficult”) spaces can be fraught with misunderstandings. I recall working with a particularly charismatic boss who seemed friendly but often misunderstood my direct, no-frills communication style. “I’m not trying to be a brown-noser, but…” was my way of signaling sincerity, yet he interpreted it as manipulative or disingenuous.
Similarly, I was once nicknamed “brutally honest” because I candidly pointed out a failing contractor on our team. My colleagues were shocked, even though they privately agreed with my assessment. That moment opened my eyes to how differently neurodifficult folks value diplomacy and sugarcoating. In their eyes, saving face or maintaining harmony is paramount, whereas I was more focused on efficiency and truth.
Dealing with these differences can be painful, especially when it impacts career growth or social acceptance. You start second-guessing every word you say, wondering if you should add disclaimers or qualifiers. Yet, I’ve also learned that there’s a way to balance our authentic style with a dash of social awareness. It’s not about masking or pretending; it’s about recognizing that communication has two sides—the speaker and the listener—and meeting in the middle can sometimes save a lot of strife.
Practical Advice for Building Stronger Connections
1. Practice Scripts in Advance: I often rehearse tricky conversations, either with a close friend or using AI as a sounding board. Knowing the possible reactions and how I might respond reduces my anxiety and helps me stay calm under pressure.
2. Set Clear Boundaries: Whether it’s with coworkers, friends, or extended family, I let them know about my limits. If I’m at a party and need to leave early, I do so without guilt. If I need information emailed instead of delivered verbally, I ask for it upfront.
3. Use AI to Refine Communication: In professional settings, I’ve learned to write my thoughts plainly first, then ask an AI tool to help rephrase them in a more diplomatic or concise way. This helps me maintain my authenticity while mitigating misunderstandings that can arise from my direct style.
4. Join Communities Before Crisis Points: It’s much easier to establish relationships when you’re in a stable emotional place than when you’re in full-blown meltdown mode. Regularly participating in forums or local meetups means you’ll have a support system ready when crisis hits.
5. Embrace Self-Advocacy: Being open about your neurospiciness can feel risky, but it often paves the way for deeper, more genuine connections. When I disclosed my neurospiciness to a recruiter recently, they opened up about their own ADHD. We forged a bond far more meaningful than a mere transactional conversation about employment.
The Evolution of My Own Mindset
Interestingly, my views on neurodiversity have evolved over time. I used to think “autism” referred only to people with very pronounced symptoms, the kind you see in after-school specials or dramatic TV portrayals. I never imagined my own so-called quirks could place me on the spectrum. Discovering that these traits come in a vast spectrum helped me shed years of shame. I realized I wasn’t “just a weirdo,” as I’d sometimes labeled myself. I was part of a broad, diverse community that includes individuals with all sorts of extraordinary strengths and unique challenges.
This shift in perspective also helped me see my children in a different light. Instead of pushing them to “act normal,” we began asking what environment would best enable them to thrive. Instead of punishing them for refusing to comply with an activity, we explored how we could collaborate and reduce unnecessary demands. This new approach has transformed our home into a space where mistakes are learning opportunities rather than a source of endless conflict.
The Importance of Finding “Your People”
One of the most surprising benefits of opening up about my neurospiciness has been the sheer relief of not having to pretend anymore. When you find the right community—be it online or in-person—you meet people who validate your experiences. They might say, “Oh my gosh, that happens to me, too!” or “I thought I was the only one who needed a full day to recover from a single social event.” These kinds of affirmations make you feel seen and understood in a way that’s life-changing.
There’s also a kind of collective wisdom in these spaces. Parents who have dealt with a meltdown in the grocery store have practical tips: carry headphones for sensory overload, skip certain aisles that trigger overwhelm, or turn the shopping trip into a co-creative game. People share apps that assist with executive functioning or mind-mapping tools for visual thinkers. When you pool together hundreds of neurospicy brains, the ideas are endless and incredibly innovative.
Breaking the Isolation Cycle
Isolation can be a vicious cycle. You feel misunderstood, so you withdraw, which only compounds the loneliness. And the longer you remain isolated, the harder it becomes to reach out. I once went months without engaging in my favorite online group because I was too embarrassed to admit how overwhelmed I felt. Yet, when I finally posted again, the response was overwhelmingly supportive. People shared they’d gone through similar dark patches, and some even offered to private message me if I needed extra support. That moment reminded me why these communities matter so much.
This is precisely why I always advise others: don’t wait until the house is on fire to look for a fire extinguisher. Start getting involved in communities when you’re feeling stable or even just mildly stressed. It’s much easier to form connections when you’re not at your wit’s end. Then, if a crisis does occur, you already have a safety net of people who know you and can offer immediate advice or emotional support.
Looking Ahead: A More Embracing World
Ultimately, I long for a future where neurospicy folks don’t have to “pass” or justify our existence to the neurodifficult world. Where teachers recognize that not every child needs to be forced to make eye contact. Where workplaces understand that remote options or flexible schedules can be game-changers for employees with sensory sensitivities or communication challenges. Where medical professionals approach neurodiversity with curiosity and empathy rather than insisting on rigid, one-size-fits-all interventions.
Yes, we’re different. But these differences can be gifts, not curses. Neurospicy people are often innovators, lateral thinkers, and empathetic champions of those whose voices go unheard. If the broader society continues to box us in, they’re missing out on the incredible potential we offer.
Resources to Start Your Journey
If you’re ready to seek out your own community, here are some resources that I’ve personally found helpful or that come highly recommended within neurospicy circles:
- Online Communities:
- Reddit:
- Facebook Groups:
“Neurodivergent Parenting,”
“The Neurodiverse Family,”
“Parents With ADHD/Autism.”
- Organizations:
CHADD: Focuses on ADHD resources.
Autistic Self Advocacy Network (ASAN): Offers advocacy, resources, and community.
- This specific community focuses on families navigating complex behaviors like PDA, offering compassionate guidance and real-life success stories.
These resources can be your starting point, but they’re far from exhaustive. If one space doesn’t feel right, don’t be afraid to explore another. There’s no universal “perfect group”—it’s about finding where you belong.
Final Thought
If I could give my past self a single piece of wisdom, I’d say this: It’s never too early to start looking for your people. Don’t wait until you’re drowning in doubt, isolation, or sheer exhaustion. Seek out those who recognize your worth, celebrate your uniqueness, and walk alongside you through the ups and downs. Being neurospicy doesn’t mean you’re doomed to constant struggle. Rather, it means you have a perspective the world desperately needs, and you deserve a community that helps you hone that perspective and thrive.
Remember, this isn’t just about you. It’s also about showing your kids—or anyone else who looks to you—that there’s a path forward free from shame and fear. By openly embracing your differences and seeking community, you pave the way for others to do the same. And as we join forces, sharing stories and solutions, we transform what once felt like towering mountains into molehills we can climb together.
So, if you’re reading this, know that you’re not alone. There are countless individuals and families facing the same anxieties, triumphs, and everything in between. Let’s keep this conversation going. Reach out, share your story, and remember: when we work together, any mountain becomes a molehill.
You can email us at askmcphee@gmail.com if you’d like to share your experiences. You might be one message away from the breakthrough that changes your life—or someone else’s.