A Guide for the Pathologically Capable: Unlearning the Shame of Asking for Support

As I’m writing this, I’m transported back to the start of December when my pain levels and a challenge to practice what I preach had me requesting assistance to the airport gate on my most recent work trip. 

As I was pushed to the gate by Morag (just gone down to part-time to watch the grandkids and a year away from retiring, she informs me) I had to battle with the worst part of myself that told me I was a failure for not being able to hobble along myself. I could feel myself going seasonally red as I thought that getting this help was the most embarrassing thing to happen to me in 2024. And I know I’m not alone in thinking like this. 

Here's the thing about being pathologically capable when you're neurodivergent: you've been training for this your whole life. Since primary school, you've been the "gifted child" who learned to mask so well you sometimes forget what your actual limits are. You've become so adept at appearing neurotypical that asking for accommodations feels like admitting you've been running an elaborate performance.

"But I can manage," you protest, while simultaneously trying to carry all the shopping in one trip, respond to work emails, mentally catalogue every mistake you've made since you were 10, and process the overwhelming sensory input from the big light that someone has inconsiderately flicked on when you walked in . "Asking for help would just prove that I can't handle things like a 'normal' person."

Let's break down this flawed logic we're working with:

- Everyone else's time is infinitely more valuable than yours (double if you're a woman who's been socialised to put others first)

- Requesting assistance is equivalent to admitting personal failure (triple if you've built your identity around being "not like other neurodiverse people who ACTUALLY need help”)

- The ability to help others while never accepting help yourself is somehow sustainable (spoiler: it's not, and burnout is inevitable)

- Being overwhelmed is a character flaw rather than a normal human experience (especially when your brain processes everything at maximum intensity)

- Needing accommodations means you're not really "successful enough" at masking your neurodivergence

The Revolutionary Act of Reasonable Requests 

Now here's a radical thought: what if asking for help wasn't just acceptable, but actually a form of activism? Every time you advocate for your needs, you're making it easier for other neurodivergent people to do the same. You're not just helping yourself—you're actively challenging the systemic expectations that keep us all pretending we can do everything without support.

Consider this: Every time you refuse to ask for help, you're not just martyring yourself—you're reinforcing the harmful idea that neurodivergent people should be able to function perfectly in a world that wasn't designed for them. Plus, you're denying someone else the opportunity to feel useful and appreciated. Think about how you feel when you help others. Now you're just hoarding all those good feelings for yourself, you emotional monopolist.

 So, where do we start?

Start small. Perhaps don't begin with asking someone to help you process your deepest emotional traumas or reorganise your entire life around your natural rhythms instead of neurotypical expectations. Try these instead:

1. Ask for that meeting agenda in advance (it's not "high maintenance," it's good business practice)

2. Request to wear noise-cancelling headphones during focused work (your sensory needs are valid)

3. Accept offers of help the first time, not the seventh time they insist (and resist the urge to over-explain why you need it)

4. When someone asks "How are you?" resist the urge to say "fine" while clearly experiencing sensory overload

5. Practice saying "I need a moment to process that" instead of masking your way through confusion

6. Set up your workspace for your actual needs, not what you think looks "professional enough"

The Permission Slip 

Here's your official permission slip to be occasionally, reasonably needy. Place it in your bag/purse/ whatever, right behind the "quote" you wrote yourself about the virtue of self-reliance and that detailed list of reasons why you're "actually probably not really neurodivergent enough" to need accommodations:

"I, [Your Name], hereby acknowledge that asking for and accepting help does not negate the previous 3,427 times I've been capable and self-sufficient. My worth is not measured by my ability to do everything alone, mask perfectly, or conform to neurotypical standards. My neurodivergent traits are not character flaws to be overcome but differences to be accommodated. Signed, The Part of Me That's Finally Too Exhausted to Keep This Up (and my sensory-overloaded nervous system)"

Now let's go forth and inconvenience people with our perfectly reasonable needs. I believe in our ability to be ever so slightly less capable at pretending we don't need anything from anyone.