Title: The Quiet Depth of Neurodivergent Feeling

[GHA]

I have come to believe that neurodivergent people often feel more deeply than they themselves fully realize. The paradox is that the stronger the feeling, the quieter its expression becomes.

On the outside, it may look like stillness. Silence in place of a reply. A gaze that drifts elsewhere when words are expected. For many, this is mistaken as distance, even indifference. But beneath that surface lies a current of feeling — powerful, steady, and unrelenting.

It is like a river running deep underground. You don’t see the waves, but you feel their pull when they surface in unexpected ways — a sketch, a metaphor, a fragment of writing that carries more weight than a dozen spoken words. What slips out is rarely casual; it is the overflow of an inner reservoir.
This has taught me that emotion is not measured by display. Some announce their feelings like a storm breaking over the sea. Others carry them like hidden fire — glowing quietly, shaping their world from within, only glimpsed when the light escapes through cracks.

And there is empathy here too, though of a different kind. Not the loud, performative empathy that rushes to reassure, but an inward one — restrained, unspoken, yet often sharper because it is lived so intensely inside. It is an empathy that does not always find words, but it shapes perception, care, and relationship in ways that outsiders may never see.

The paradox is this: those who seem silent often feel the loudest. To understand them, one must look beyond the absence of words and learn to read the subtle language of the unspoken — the symbols, the gestures, the metaphors left behind like footprints of feeling.

 

[Neonatal RRT]

I have come to believe that neurodivergent people often feel more deeply than they themselves fully realize. The paradox is that the stronger the feeling, the quieter its expression becomes.

Depends. Someone with alexithymia might not be able to accurately identify what they are feeling in the moment, unless it is extreme. I tend to drive my emotions inward...emotions create the type of intellectual chaos that I do not like...very Stoic. I do not like that loss of logical control. Emotions cloud reasoning and logic. Whereas other neurodivergent folks wear their emotions on the outside and really have difficulties with emotional control...sometimes to the point where it becomes a problem for them in the real world.

On the outside, it may look like stillness. Silence in place of a reply. A gaze that drifts elsewhere when words are expected. For many, this is mistaken as distance, even indifference. But beneath that surface lies a current of feeling — powerful, steady, and unrelenting.

For someone like me, true. Others, not so much.

It is like a river running deep underground. You don’t see the waves, but you feel their pull when they surface in unexpected ways — a sketch, a metaphor, a fragment of writing that carries more weight than a dozen spoken words. What slips out is rarely casual; it is the overflow of an inner reservoir.
This has taught me that emotion is not measured by display. Some announce their feelings like a storm breaking over the sea. Others carry them like hidden fire — glowing quietly, shaping their world from within, only glimpsed when the light escapes through cracks.

Agree.

And there is empathy here too, though of a different kind. Not the loud, performative empathy that rushes to reassure, but an inward one — restrained, unspoken, yet often sharper because it is lived so intensely inside. It is an empathy that does not always find words, but it shapes perception, care, and relationship in ways that outsiders may never see.

Agree.

The paradox is this: those who seem silent often feel the loudest. To understand them, one must look beyond the absence of words and learn to read the subtle language of the unspoken — the symbols, the gestures, the metaphors left behind like footprints of feeling.

Agree.

 

[CurlyGirl]

I have come to believe that neurodivergent people often feel more deeply than they themselves fully realize. The paradox is that the stronger the feeling, the quieter its expression becomes.

On the outside, it may look like stillness. Silence in place of a reply. A gaze that drifts elsewhere when words are expected. For many, this is mistaken as distance, even indifference. But beneath that surface lies a current of feeling — powerful, steady, and unrelenting.

It is like a river running deep underground. You don’t see the waves, but you feel their pull when they surface in unexpected ways — a sketch, a metaphor, a fragment of writing that carries more weight than a dozen spoken words. What slips out is rarely casual; it is the overflow of an inner reservoir.
This has taught me that emotion is not measured by display. Some announce their feelings like a storm breaking over the sea. Others carry them like hidden fire — glowing quietly, shaping their world from within, only glimpsed when the light escapes through cracks.

And there is empathy here too, though of a different kind. Not the loud, performative empathy that rushes to reassure, but an inward one — restrained, unspoken, yet often sharper because it is lived so intensely inside. It is an empathy that does not always find words, but it shapes perception, care, and relationship in ways that outsiders may never see.

The paradox is this: those who seem silent often feel the loudest. To understand them, one must look beyond the absence of words and learn to read the subtle language of the unspoken — the symbols, the gestures, the metaphors left behind like footprints of feeling.

Your writing is absolutely beautiful!

Ugh. Emotions. One of my earliest memories of my mother were of her crying and hugging me. I was around 4 or 5; I do not remember why she was crying. My thoughts in that moment have stayed with me for over 60 years: "She feels like a vacuum cleaner." Even at that young age I could tell that the hug was all about her and had nothing to do with me. And yes, I have Mommy issues. She is undiagnosed *something*. I do not like her.

But back to me. Back in my dating days, a broken relationship would feel like my heart was being ripped out - for MONTHS. A cheating partner caused me to strongly contemplate suicide. Partners or family members who use meanness in an argument (or just for their own personal pleasure) can gut me.

I think PART of the reason I am so content to rarely leave my home (which I share with my Hubby and two Yorkies, Suzy and Chloe) is because I am less likely to have emotional spikes. I remember telling someone a decade ago that I believed I felt emotions stronger than most people, and I just got a blank stare. But I believe I do.


I can avoid overthinking, beating myself up, and having anxiety attacks about the conversation I had with my neighbour. Although my mother lives in town, I only see her about once a month because it takes me days to settle down after a visit. And if I need to grieve (like I did when my brother died) I can do so without having to attempt to apply any control. Life is just easier

 

[Ken]

Figuring Out My Life: PTSD
In trying to make sense of my life, I found the best way is to figure out how I am different from other people. Or how they are different from me. I have found that in trying to figure out anything requires a reference point. Which means I can’t figure out myself without a reference point. Using myself as a reference doesn’t work.

Finally; it has taken me 73 years to figured out one of my major PTSD’s and why other people do not have it. I have always been mystified as to how others are not also traumatized like me. I would always think, this is tragic; horrible, horrible, extreme tragic, how can you possibly not see that!! How can you possible not feel that!!

I found that it is a matter of perception. Indeed, they did not perceive what I perceived. That is still mystifying to me, but I now realize that it is true.

As a child, and actually always, including now, I always believed that anything alive is a person. I saw that as simply self-evident and assumed it was common knowledge. That a person’s species does not determine their person. Every individual person has specific traits; strengths, weaknesses, attributes, needs, etc. That is simply what makes them unique individuals – regardless of their species or anatomy.

There were may people of different species that I could relate to better than human people. We understood each other. Didn’t need to speak. I wasn’t good at speaking anyway and that just made my life more peaceful. It’s not a competition, its just that everyone is unique regardless of species. We are all just people. Early in my life, my best friends were not of the human species. Many of them were labeled as “wild animals”. I didn’t regard that labeling because they certainly were not “wild” to me. They were my close friends. We would spend most the day hanging out together. Some of my best friends were labeled “live stock” but at the time I didn’t know what that meant. I just assumed it meant people who were being taken care of by human people. Eventually, I learned what “live stock” really meant by witnessing my friends being murdered. It was a tragic terror that has never subsided or gone away to any degree. Considerable effort has been exerted to teach me that “animals” are not human, thus not people, thus killing them is not murder and that killing them is "necessary". All those attempts to teach me that only exaggerated the trauma, intensifying my PTSD. I still experience that morbid terror upon a trigger or sometimes I just find myself reliving that horror. There has never been any horror story written or movie production that even comes remotely close. It is overwhelmingly consuming. I felt their murder. I did not just imagine how it must feel, I felt it. I felt the agonizing pain and sheer horror of what was happening to them. I felt it and still feel it today.

I was drafted into the US Army in 1972. During my training we was brought into a theater to watch a film. During the film I realized this was pure “brain washing”. The film taught that the enemy, Vietnamese at the time, were not human, so it was good to kill them. I knew that was completely absurd. I could not comprehend anyone believing that – but they did – everyone!

From all of my life experience, I believe there is no such thing as a “wild” animal. It seems considered that any animal that can inflict hurt is a wild animal. With that; humans are the wildest of all animals. Humans are the absolute king of hurt. No other animal inflicts hurt more than humans.

Koko is the name of a female gorilla that was taught sign language. Her mental cognition was heavily debated among many scientist. They said her responses were just learned behaviors but she didn't really comprehend anything. During a visit from one of those scientist that disbelieved her personal cognition asked her if she was an animal or a person. Koko responded, “I am a gorilla person”. That answer is very profound to me. She knows exactly who she is.

My PTSD triggers:
Anything to do with cowboys especially country music.
Country music is the most extreme, uncontrollable trigger.
Western styles such as rustic furniture, western clothes, cowboy hats, etc. These are very uncomfortable triggers, but not as violent a trigger as country music.
Seeing meat or edible item made with meat is uncomfortable and nauseatingly gross. I feel that eating animals of any species is cannibalism.

When someone dies, it is traditional to tell the survivors, “sorry for your loss”. But, my grief is not loss; it’s feeling their morbid anguish in death. That is what hurts me.

 

[SusanLR]

There were may people of different species that I could relate to better than human people. We understood each other. Didn’t need to speak. I wasn’t good at speaking anyway and that just made my life more peaceful. It’s not a competition, its just that everyone is unique regardless of species.

It was the same for me. I home schooled high school and my friends weren't of the human species. I didn't feel I was missing out by not having the high school experience or having friends during my teens.
Now I'm 68 and I am still at peace with my animal friends too. I think of them and talk to them like people. The connection and understanding, yes.

I have come to believe that neurodivergent people often feel more deeply than they themselves fully realize. The paradox is that the stronger the feeling, the quieter its expression becomes.

Yes.
When someone says I don't talk much, I have a simple reply. And if they are around me long enough, they will come to understand:

"Still waters run deep."

 

[Neonatal RRT]

Figuring Out My Life: PTSD
In trying to make sense of my life, I found the best way is to figure out how I am different from other people. Or how they are different from me. I have found that in trying to figure out anything requires a reference point. Which means I can’t figure out myself without a reference point. Using myself as a reference doesn’t work.

Finally; it has taken me 73 years to figured out one of my major PTSD’s and why other people do not have it. I have always been mystified as to how others are not also traumatized like me. I would always think, this is tragic; horrible, horrible, extreme tragic, how can you possibly not see that!! How can you possible not feel that!!

I found that it is a matter of perception. Indeed, they did not perceive what I perceived. That is still mystifying to me, but I now realize that it is true.

It's my understanding that "trauma", in many cases, is closely related to malevolence. For example, two people are cut by a knife...one on accident...one from another person trying to harm them. The latter being traumatized and likely to develop a PTSD around knives. In other words, many people can experience all manner of tragedy in their lives, but those specific events that involve harmful intent are more likely to result in trauma.

You are old enough to understand life in the 1960s and 70s. Children and adults experienced all manner of...by today's standards...horrible, abusive, racist, bullying behaviors...even as you mentioned above, psychological programming...the Vietnamese were not people...dehumanizing them so that your moral compass didn't get in the way of our government's agenda. I remember my relatives calling them "gooks" for years. "You didn't need to see them, you could smell them."...and this was openly spoken around the house. You lived through a lot of geopolitical and social stress, upheaval, and change...some of the most significant events in US history. My family reminds me of the fact that I was born during the Detroit race riots of July,1967...we only lived a few miles away at the time. Blessed with a photographic memory, I do remember all the turmoil of the late 60's and 70's, relatives coming home from Vietnam, their friends not making it back home...or suffering from PTSD, horrible injuries, and drug addiction only to be spat upon when they arrived back home. The Cold War drills in school...like our little desks were going to protect us. However, because "that's just the way it was" back then, and most people experienced it, we were desensitized to it. Most of those events were not internalized as trauma...some were, of course. Context and perspective appear to play a significant role in whether or not events are internalized as trauma and PTSD.

In general:
1. One can be sensitive to all the injustices and inequalities in this world...I think it is a good thing to recognize it...and actually DO something about it with effective action...policy change...emotional reactions will never change things.
2. There are other people who, for any one of long list of reasons, have difficulties with emotional regulation and/or elevated sensitivities...and their emotional reactions can be amplified...creating a self-induced trauma. It is often said that if you are offended by what someone else says or does...that's on you...you are responsible for that. They are not responsible for your reaction. You cannot control another person's words or actions with your emotions.
3. Furthermore, there are some people throw around the term "trauma" and "PTSD" just willy-nilly without any real understanding of what it is and minimizing the experience of those that truly do.