Dr Claire Mayers

Dr Claire Mayers https://drclairemayersclinicalpsychologist.com.au/
Clinical Psychology services for people of all ages. Inbox not monitored.

If you obtain a Mental Healthcare Plan from your GP you can claim back a significant chunk of the fee.

13/03/2026

For most of her life, Jacqueline Luciano, a nurse in Chicago, has experienced mysterious injuries and ailments, including a long list of sprains and tears, dizziness and fatigue, and chronic headaches and pain. As she would discover, many of her health issues could be traced back to the fact that she is hypermobile, or double-jointed.

She joins an increasingly visible group of people, including the singer-songwriter Billie Eilish and author Rebecca Yarros, who are speaking out about their struggles with hypermobility.

Learn more about hypermobility and what the research says about its surprising health risks: https://on.natgeo.com/ljCLgA

13/03/2026

Sometimes love is loud. It’s spoken clearly, expressed through big gestures, long conversations, and emotional words.

But in neurodivergent relationships, love often looks quieter… and a lot more practical.

Many neurodivergent people don’t always express affection in the traditional ways people expect. Saying “I love you” might feel awkward, overly intense, or simply unnecessary when the feeling is already understood.

Instead, love shows up in small actions that might look ordinary to others but carry deep meaning.

Sharing Something That Made You Think of Them

One common way neurodivergent people express care is by sharing information.

They might send you an article, a study, a video, or a random piece of knowledge they discovered. To someone else it may seem like just another link or message.

But in their mind, the moment they saw it, they immediately thought of you.

It’s their way of saying: you exist in my thoughts even when we’re not together.

Finding Things Connected to Your Interests

Another quiet love language is noticing the things you care about.

Maybe it’s a fact about your favorite hobby. Maybe it’s a new tool, a resource, or a piece of information related to something you once mentioned.

When a neurodivergent person remembers those details and brings them back to you later, it means they’ve been paying close attention to what matters to you.

That attention is a form of affection.

Choosing to Spend Unstructured Time Together

For many neurodivergent individuals, unstructured time can feel uncomfortable. Plans, routines, and clear expectations often make situations easier to navigate.

So when someone willingly spends open, unplanned time with you, that choice carries meaning.

It means your presence feels safe enough that structure is no longer necessary.

The Comfort of Shared Silence

Silence can be another powerful form of connection.

Instead of feeling pressure to constantly talk or entertain each other, neurodivergent partners may simply sit together, work quietly, or exist in the same space without needing conversation.

That shared silence can feel incredibly peaceful.

It means neither person feels the need to perform or explain themselves.

Solving Problems as a Form of Care

Another common expression of love appears when someone immediately starts researching solutions to a problem you mentioned.

Instead of responding only with emotional reassurance, they might look for resources, analyze options, and bring you detailed information about possible solutions.

To others, this might seem overly analytical.

But for many neurodivergent people, helping solve a problem is one of the most genuine ways they know how to show they care.

Because when someone you love is struggling, your brain naturally wants to help fix the situation.

A Different Language of Love

Neurodivergent love doesn’t always follow the scripts people expect.

It might appear through curiosity, quiet presence, shared interests, thoughtful research, or simply remembering the small details about someone’s life.

To an outside observer, these actions may look subtle.

But to the people involved, they carry the same meaning as three simple words.

“I love you.”

12/03/2026
12/03/2026
09/03/2026

You were the “gifted kid.”
The one teachers pointed at as an example.
The one everyone said was going to do something extraordinary.

You finished worksheets early. You asked deeper questions. Adults admired how quickly you understood things. Being placed in the “Gifted and Talented” program felt like proof that your mind worked in a special way.

And for a while, that identity felt exciting.

But what many people didn’t see back then was the other side of that story.

When Intelligence Hid the Struggle

In the 90s, many schools were very good at identifying intelligence, but not very good at recognizing neurodivergence.

If you could pass tests, speak confidently in class, or produce good grades, teachers rarely looked deeper. The assumption was simple: a smart child must be doing fine.

But for many gifted students with ADHD, school worked in a strange way.

They understood the material quickly, yet struggled to stay focused during long lessons. They could produce brilliant work at the last minute, yet couldn’t start assignments early no matter how hard they tried.

Because they still performed well enough, the struggle stayed invisible.

The Birth of High-Functioning Anxiety

Over time, something else quietly stepped in to keep everything working: anxiety.

Deadlines created urgency.
Fear of failure created motivation.
The pressure to live up to expectations became the engine that pushed tasks forward.

From the outside, it looked like discipline.

Inside, it often felt like running on stress.

Many gifted ADHD students learned to rely on that pressure to finish work. Procrastination became the norm, followed by intense last-minute focus that somehow saved the day.

And because the system still worked, no one questioned it.

Perfectionism and the Fear of Starting

Another pattern began to grow alongside anxiety: perfectionism.

When everyone tells you that you are the “smart one,” mistakes start to feel threatening. If your identity is tied to being capable, doing something imperfectly can feel uncomfortable.

So tasks begin to get delayed.

Not because you don’t care, but because starting imperfectly feels worse than waiting until the pressure forces you to begin.

This is where perfectionist procrastination takes root.

The work eventually gets done, often brilliantly, but the path to finishing it is filled with stress, guilt, and exhaustion.

The Weight of Being the Oldest Daughter

For many people who relate to this story, there’s another layer added on top: being the oldest daughter.

Oldest daughters are often expected to be responsible, dependable, and emotionally aware from a young age. They help siblings, support parents, and quietly learn how to hold things together.

When ADHD traits exist underneath that responsibility, the pressure multiplies.

They become the helper, the achiever, the one who seems to have everything handled… even when internally they feel overwhelmed.

The Unexpected Turn Toward Self-Discovery

Years later, many of those same “gifted kids” find themselves on a very different path.

They start questioning old patterns.
They begin learning about ADHD, anxiety, and neurodivergence.
They reflect on the roles they played growing up.

Some people turn toward therapy.
Others explore personal growth or spirituality.
Many simply begin asking deeper questions about who they actually are beyond the expectations placed on them.

And slowly, a new realization appears.

Maybe the story was never about being “too sensitive,” “too scattered,” or “too inconsistent.”

Maybe it was about having a brain that learned to survive in systems that never fully understood it.

07/03/2026

When we are deep into our childhood trauma work, we hit a series of rigid barriers.⁠

One of them is what I call a no-man's (or any gender you like) land.⁠

Being out in no man's land is the surreal experience of not engaging in our trauma identity rooted in survival strategies. These are survival strategies such as fawning or feeling (people pleasing or using things to escape).⁠

But we need to learn how to be in the world without the old way of navigating.⁠

We have yet to learn how to take risks and fully be ourselves.⁠
We have yet to learn who we are.⁠
We are on shaky ground, trying to advocate space for ourselves in big and small ways.⁠

I learned how to be in the world by mimicking healthier people I met in recovery communities such as group therapy or twelve-step.⁠

I'm a good watcher and adapter (many of us are), and I could mimic being more present and forthright from others.⁠

Healthy people also gave me feedback that I was funny or well-spoken. However, they also challenged me when I didn't take that in initially.⁠

This led to me figuring out how I wanted to be in the world. But, of course, we watch and learn how to be in the world from our parents or caretakers, so there is nothing wrong with watching and adapting. It's part of the process of becoming someone.

05/03/2026
05/03/2026

As childhood trauma survivors, we project our parents onto others - especially our partners.⁠

In my trauma work, the primary recovery focus is on intimacy, and intimacy with the self needs to come first. When not integrated, we often try to get others to be our missing parent.⁠
⠀⁠
Often, a survivor will struggle with feeling that it is their partner's job to own all the upset AND help them self-regulate. (comfort and soothe)⠀⁠
⠀⁠
Wounded inner children will look to our partners to be omnipotent and responsible for upset (projection). ⠀⁠
⠀⁠
This type of wounded child is very young and now demands the comforting and soothing that was denied to them. Given what happened to us, it makes sense why that demanding energy exists. Our inner child sees a safer caregiver who "should know better." ⠀⁠
⠀⁠
That's the projection. "They should know better."⁠

Our parents should have known better about caring for a child.⁠
⠀⁠
When I see couples stuck in this, I'll stop the circular conversation/fight and then do a trauma intimacy tool developed by my mentor Amanda Curtin LICSW - the "123 exercise," which consists of⁠
⠀⁠
1) We talk about the trigger coming from childhood and talk about specific examples (being let down)⁠
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2) We talk about how the partner is different (like that they come to couples when abusive parents often won't/don't)⁠
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3) We work out the present upset with the projection out of the way. (Find new ways to manage the present upset/bump)⁠
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When we can't fully see our partners for who they are, we demand atonement for wounds our parents caused, even if the partner's behavior/contribution is off or terrible. It's mostly about our trauma.⁠

Also, we may have difficult choices if the partner refuses to look at their off behavior. But this is where it gets confusing, right? Is it their behavior or your trauma? Either way, if the partner is abusive or we are demanding atonement, none of it works. ⠀⁠

Most of my recovery was about protecting others close to me by reparenting my wounded inner child and developing that relationship first.

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