I’ve been reflecting on something lately. I struggle with vulnerability, and asking for help feels especially difficult for me. Recently, I decided to push myself and see what happens if I ask for help more often.
I reached out to a friend for assistance with a task. He agreed to help on a specific day, but as the day approached, I went back and forth in my mind. On the day of, I told him, “I’m okay now, I don’t need your help anymore.” It felt like a small victory, but also a pattern — struggling to ask for help, then retreating when it gets close.
Next, I decided to try asking for help with smaller things from random people. Some were kind, while others offered assistance half-heartedly. I wasn’t feeling good one day and I thought if I get rid of some of my stuff which where reminder of some bad memories I will feel better. I even thought about moving or selling some of my things but didn’t know the best way to go about it. So, I posted in a Neurodivergent (ND) WhatsApp group, asking for advice or help. Two days passed, and no one responded.
Frustrated, I thought maybe offering something in return would help. I posted pictures of some wine bottles I had and mentioned I needed help moving a TV off my bedroom wall. Still, no one offered to help. So, feeling frustrated, I joked that maybe I’d use physics to move it myself. Instead of offers of help, I got laughed at and bombarded with smiley faces. I felt sad and cried, and then in my frustration, said I’d just use a hammer and break the TV into pieces to throw it away.
Suddenly, someone offered to help. A guy messaged me privately, asking about the TV’s size. At first, I thought he was inquiring to figure out how to transport it. I measured it, even though I didn’t want to deal with the TV at all. But then he excitedly said, “55 inches, wow!” And it hit me—he wasn’t offering help out of kindness. He just wanted a free TV. I realized I had fallen into the same trap again.
I snapped out of my emotional spiral and became more logical. This experience made me realize how often help comes with strings attached. It’s rarely offered selflessly.
When I was diagnosed with autism, my therapist recommended I connect with other neurodivergent people. He said joining an ND community would be helpful, but my experience so far has been eye-opening. It turns out that in this ND community, at least, asking for help seems to come with hidden motives or simply gets ignored. My first lesson was that I shouldn’t rely on the community for support in the way I expected.
When people tell me, “You need therapy,” it feels like they’re saying, “We don’t care about your problems; go fix them somewhere else.” It’s a dismissal, not genuine concern.
I recently read a study on neurodivergent communication, which showed that ND people generally understand each other better than when communicating with neurotypical people. But from my experience with the ND community on WhatsApp and at a couple of events, it doesn’t seem to hold true. Here, ND individuals seem to see themselves more as isolated individuals rather than a true community. When they’re happy, they engage. But when overwhelmed, they withdraw and rely on therapy.
What I’ve learned is that even within the ND community, I still need to mask my emotions. If I show that I’m struggling, the response is often dismissive, like, “Go find a therapist.” It’s a harsh realization that the support I was hoping for doesn’t exist in the way I imagined.
Marzieh B blog 