I’ve written the following article as a form of abstract explainer of neurodivergence. The audience was originally my immediate family members and some close friends, who I care deeply about and respect. However, reflecting on it, I see it having wider benefits than just for them. I feel compelled to release it to the world.
Patterns of Human Behaviour: A Neurodivergent and Gender Perspective
Being perfectly honest, I can relate to much of what I’m saying here, especially regarding identity. Gender, to a lesser degree, but it still plays a part in the larger picture. Over the past year, I’ve gained a clearer understanding of what it truly means to be neurodivergent, and I’ve grown in my ability to explain it in simple terms. This understanding has developed as I’ve embraced a deeper connection with the high-functioning autistic side of myself, which I’ve encouraged to come forward more often. It no longer feels the need to hide or be banished from view.
Overthinking and Diagnosis
Consider the immediate validation that receiving a doctorate can bring to a student who’s just been awarded their accreditation after many years of studying at university. Similarly, imagine the validation a neurodivergent adult feels being given a diagnosis in their 50s. How does that affect their sense of identity and place in society?
For many neurodivergent people, coming to a medical diagnosis often follows a lifetime of struggle, caught in a never-ending cycle of trying to figure out who they are, what their purpose is, and how they fit in. For some, the answer or diagnosis comes earlier in life. But for many of us, it was missed or never identified. There are also those who have suspicions about their neurodivergence. They spend countless hours researching and studying—these days often via TikTok videos or YouTube shorts.
For those most persistent, they may eventually book an appointment with a GP and get a referral. After consultations with multiple medical professionals, they finally sit in front of a psychiatrist. This is not a simple or quick process; it involves countless hours of self-reflection, trying to make sense of how they fit into the world, why they feel different, and what these differences mean. It’s an intense mental journey of thinking, questioning, and revisiting various perspectives—both personal and professional—before finally arriving at a diagnosis.
Many individuals will have spent years feeling out of place or misunderstood, searching for answers to questions they may not even know how to articulate. [Insert a link to a study on the diagnostic process in neurodivergent individuals, focusing on anxiety, overthinking, or self-reflection.]
Similarly, the decision not to seek medical help often reflects the same kind of exhaustive overthinking. Uncertainty, self-doubt, or fear of what a diagnosis might mean can keep someone from taking action. The internal debate about whether or not to pursue help can be just as consuming. Overthinking permeates both sides of these decisions as individuals strive to make sense of their experiences and reconcile them with the expectations of the world around them.
Genetic Links to Neurodivergence
The same kind of exhaustive thought process can also be seen in something as personal as choosing a name for a child. There’s often deep reflection involved—considering options, meanings, and future implications. And later in life, if a child decides to change their name, that too reflects an internal process of overthinking—working through identity and self-perception until they arrive at a name that feels right.
Research shows that neurodivergent traits such as ADHD, autism, and anxiety often run in families, demonstrating strong genetic links. These links are believed to be between 70-80%. [Insert a link to studies showing the heritability of ADHD and autism.] These genetic connections often manifest differently across generations, with some individuals experiencing creativity or heightened sensitivity, while others may exhibit more pronounced behavioral traits. [Insert a link to a study on the varied manifestation of neurodivergent traits within families.]
Jaime’s Story
My friends Jane and Jarrad went through this with their child, Jaime. Jaime, who has always been wonderfully unique and was diagnosed with autism, recently changed their name from Samon to Jaime. What makes Jaime’s story particularly fascinating is how their new name represents not just a change, but a way of explaining who they are to themselves and the world. It may have been a subconscious choice, but Jaime’s name is an anagram of their parents’ names—Jane and Jarrad—creating a powerful personal equation:
• “Ja” represents both Mum and Dad.
• “I” symbolizes Jaime as an individual.
• “Me” reinforces their own sense of self.
It’s almost as if Jaime crafted this name like a mathematical equation—one that captures their identity by balancing the love and connection to their parents with their own evolving self. For Jaime, this isn’t just a name; it’s an expression of who they are, a clear statement to themselves and the world of how their family and personal identity come together in harmony.
Jay’s Journey
Meanwhile, my brother-in-law Ryan and his wife Martha are navigating a similar experience with their child, Ida, who was born female but has always identified more strongly as male and is now known as Jay. Unlike Jaime, Jay has not been diagnosed with any neurological conditions, and Ryan and Martha, both psychologists, might struggle to see any direct links to neurodivergence in their family. This might reflect heightened anxiety, as they grapple with understanding Jay’s evolving identity through their professional lenses. [Insert a link to research on how neurodivergence and gender identity may intersect.] This existing literature supports the theory I’ve been developing, making it more than just a hypothetical but entirely plausible.
Vek’s Story
Another example within my own family is my mother’s brother, Vek, who was born as Paul. Like Jay, Vek hasn’t been diagnosed with neurodivergence, at least not to my knowledge. However, I would be surprised if he didn’t meet the criteria for being diagnosed as high-functioning ASD. What’s particularly intriguing about Vek’s story is that he, too, changed his name, drawing from the family’s complex history. Vek’s name is an anagram of his father’s birth name, Kevin. His father, who was known to us as Daniel, also changed his name—undoubtedly to hide his identity, having fled Victoria in the 1950s with my mother, who also had her surname changed.
Vek, in choosing his new name, might have been subconsciously following in his father’s footsteps, carrying forward a pattern of shifting identity. Interestingly, Vek has also kept the surname adopted by my grandfather, despite the name change, raising questions about the connections we maintain with our names and identities, even when they aren’t originally ours.
Creativity and Neurodivergence
The connection between these families becomes even more intriguing when you consider that Jane and Ryan were once teenage sweethearts. Now, as parents, they both find themselves supporting children in defining their identities, albeit from slightly different perspectives. This deep, subconscious connection suggests that neurodivergent traits may be present in both families, even if not formally diagnosed in all members. Reflecting back to nearly 30 years ago when they were together, it’s possible they saw neurodivergent traits in each other—traits that may have drawn them together in the first place.
Adding to this, both Ryan and Jarrad share a deep musical talent—an ability that seems almost innate. Their musical gifts have always been more than a hobby; they are expressions of creativity and emotion, traits often connected to neurodivergence in subtle ways. [Insert a link to studies that connect neurodivergence with creativity or musical ability.] It’s fascinating to think that, while neurodivergence may not always be recognized on the surface, it often manifests through these creative outlets. Music, like identity, provides a way to process the world that goes beyond words and actions.
Final Reflections
As I reflect on my family’s experiences with neurodivergence, it’s impossible to ignore the strong genetic links to these conditions. What some might dismiss as “overthinking” is often a sign of deeper processing and heightened awareness—traits that help us navigate the world’s complexities. [Insert a link to a study discussing overthinking, anxiety, or heightened cognitive processing in neurodivergent individuals.]
Jaime is also my godchild, or spiritual child, and that is a badge of honor I wear with pride. I feel the same way about Jay, though neither child is directly related to me by blood. I have an overwhelming sense of protection for both, which stems from a number of different reasons. Inherent curiosity and empathy sit at the core of why I’m driven to write about such things.
However, the underlying thread with all of it, in my view, is neurodivergence. At the end of the day, we are all connected in ways that we, as sentient beings, cannot fully comprehend. I like to think that I’m getting closer to figuring it out.
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