Difference Is Not a Defect: Neurodiversity, Camouflage, and Child Mental Health
"Difference is not a defect. What exhausts children is not who they are but who they’re required to pretend to be." - Mary Coughlin
#4 in the "Stop Pathologizing Being Human" Series
A reflection on neurodiversity and the hidden cost of camouflage
Many children learn early that the safest way to move through the world is to pass. To look typical. To sound regulated. To appear calm. To behave in ways that make adults comfortable. For neurodivergent children, this lesson often arrives quickly and relentlessly.
They learn that their sensory needs are inconvenient. That their intensity is excessive. That their focus is misplaced. That their movements are distracting. That their questions are disruptive.
And so they adapt.
They suppress stimming. They force eye contact. They endure overwhelming environments. They mask confusion with compliance. They rehearse social scripts instead of inhabiting connection.
This adaptation is often praised. Adults call it “coping.” Schools call it “progress.” Systems call it “success.” But what it really is… is camouflage. And camouflage comes at a cost.
Neurodiversity is not a flaw in development. It is a difference in nervous system organization in perception, processing, regulation, and response. Neurodivergent children are not less capable of learning or relating; they often experience the world more intensely, more vividly, more fully.
The problem is not their nervous systems. The problem is environments that demand uniformity from bodies and minds that were never meant to be uniform.
When children are required to mask in order to belong, they learn to disconnect from their internal cues. Hunger, overwhelm, fatigue, curiosity, distress all get overridden in service of appearing “okay.”
Over time, this disconnection can look like:
chronic anxiety
depression
exhaustion
loss of identity
increased vulnerability to burnout
difficulty recognizing needs or setting boundaries
Not because neurodivergence is inherently distressing — but because constant self-monitoring is exhausting. This is where the pathology narrative does real harm.
Instead of asking how environments might better support diverse nervous systems, we ask children to perform regulation they have not been supported to build. Instead of adjusting expectations, pacing, sensory input, or relational scaffolding, we measure children against standards that were never designed with them in mind.
And then we label the fallout.
What if we told a different story? What if we understood that:
Movement can be regulation
Silence can be processing
Intensity can be focus
Withdrawal can be protection
Difference can be wisdom
What if we stopped rewarding children for disappearing and started supporting them in being present?
Neurodivergent children do not need to be normalized. They need to be met. Met with curiosity instead of correction. Met with flexibility instead of force. Met with environments that adapt to them not the other way around.
When children no longer have to camouflage, something remarkable happens. They don’t fall apart. They don’t become unmanageable. They become more regulated, more connected, more confident because regulation grows from safety, not performance.
Difference is not a defect. It is information.
And when we listen to it, we don’t just improve outcomes for neurodivergent children, we create systems that are more humane for everyone.
In the next reflection, I’ll turn toward what happens when survival responses are mistaken for disorders and how trauma gets medicalized instead of understood.
For now, I invite you to reflect: Where in your own life did you learn to perform “okay” instead of being supported to be real?
Until next time,
Mary
