Everyone's Neurodivergent on a Long Enough Timeline

Why designing for the ‘average’ hurts everyone

🌸 ikigai 生き甲斐 is a reason for being, your purpose in life - from the Japanese iki 生き meaning life and gai 甲斐 meaning worth 🌸

The presenter said the word "circle" and something inside me split apart.

I was sitting at the front of a full conference room, fluorescent lights humming their aggressive tune overhead, trying not to cry in front of hundreds of people. The chair cutting into the backs of my thighs as I started to shift uncomfortably, but suddenly none of that mattered because I could see it all… every classroom I'd ever sat in wrong, every public space designed to exclude, everywhere that had ever made me feel like my body and brain were somehow defective.

This was pitch number 14 out of 14. I'd already seen interesting innovations in fintech, AI, cleantech… but this brilliant bunch of people with a mission to help kids with additional support needs, were describing circular workstations where children could sit comfortably together, collaborate if they wished, or simply exist in the safety of the circle. They spoke about stigma reduction and agency, about honouring the identities and cultures that came before us. About how the circle of trust has always been a powerful thing.

A thought occurred that I couldn’t ignore "Don't we all have support needs?"

I nearly sobbed thinking about all the children we label as having "special educational needs and disabilities" not being looked after well enough in society… all the adults queuing up to pay over a grand for ADHD or Autism assessments because society doesn’t seem to prioritise mental health or holistic wellbeing… all of us pretending there's such a thing as a "normal" human being when really, we're all just doing our best to survive systems designed for people who don't actually exist.

A note on the title; I know the headline might raise eyebrows, it’s not intended to dismiss or diminish anyone's experience, but to challenge our obsession with designing for imaginary "normal" people. As someone who strongly suspects I'm a member of the ND community (though without formal diagnosis) as are many of my family and friends, I have nothing but a deep respect for those with profound, consistent support needs and recognise these are fundamentally different from temporary struggles or life transitions. Whether someone needs accommodations for neurodivergence, situational overwhelm, or simply being human on a difficult day, we all benefit when environments flex with us rather than against us. The community has gifted us beautiful words like "neurospicy" precisely because sometimes we need language that feels safer than rigid categories. My hope is that we can approach each other with curiosity and compassion rather than gatekeeping, recognising that inclusive design serves everyone.

The cruelty of one size fits all

We've built our entire world around this statistical ghost called "neurotypical" an imaginary centre point on a bell curve that represents almost no actual human beings. It's like designing all doorways for someone who's exactly 5'1" and then acting surprised when most people have to duck while a few others still need to stretch to reach the handle.

My conference room revelation made me wonder if everyone could meet some or all neurodivergent diagnostic criteria or definitions on a long enough timeline?

• At five, you can't sit still for three hours straight. (Hyperactivity?)

• At fifteen, your brain is literally rewiring itself and you feel everything too intensely. (Emotional dysregulation?)

• At twenty-five, open offices make you want to scream. (Sensory processing issues?)

• At thirty-five, you're burned out and can't focus like you used to. (Executive dysfunction?)

• At forty-five, perimenopause scrambles your brain chemistry entirely. (Cognitive changes?)

• At sixty-five, you need reading glasses and struggle with background noise. (Accommodation needs?)

• At seventy-five, you process information differently than you did at twenty. (Cognitive differences?)

I know this timeline intimately because I've witnessed it many times, and I’ve lived some of it.

My friend's ten-year-old tried to explain to her teacher why she needed to stand whilst doing maths. The child had worked out that standing helped her think, helped the numbers make sense in a way that sitting rigidly never could. But standing wasn't "appropriate classroom behaviour". So this bright, self-aware child was forced to choose between her learning needs and compliance. She chose compliance, as children do, and watched her maths scores plummet whilst her self-worth crumbled.

This is the violence of average in action. Not dramatic, not headline-worthy, just the slow, steady erosion of human potential in service of maintaining order for an imaginary standard child who exists nowhere except in policy documents.

What about the employee having panic attacks in the open-plan office, the bright lights and constant chatter making it impossible to think? They started wearing sunglasses indoors and bringing noise-cancelling headphones, fielding curious looks from colleagues who couldn't understand why someone would need such "accommodations" just to work in an environment that may as well have been designed for robots.

Add in grief, trauma, stress, hormonal changes, medication side effects, lack of sleep, too much caffeine, heartbreak, excitement, illness, recovery... and show me the human being who remains consistently "neurotypical" in terms of support requirements throughout their entire existence. We're all just cycling through different versions of ourselves, all needing different things at different times. The question shouldn’t necessarily be about whether you're neurodivergent, but whether your environment can flex to meet you where you are.

The diagnosis dance

Someone is sitting in a waiting room, having scraped together a lot of money and waited months for the privilege of having a professional confirm what they already know about their own brain. The chairs are designed for the mythical average bottom, and the lights flicker just enough to make their skin crawl.

They've filled out forms about their childhood, trying to remember if they lost things "often" or "very often" whilst simultaneously managing their current life with the organisational systems they've painstakingly built to survive. The irony is exquisite, if you can successfully navigate the labyrinth of getting an ADHD diagnosis, do you even have executive dysfunction?

Meanwhile, that same evening, they're scrolling through ADHD TikTok, finally understanding why they do that thing. They're discovering HSP or Autism communities and learning that fidget toys and strategic naps aren't just nice-to-haves, they're the difference between thriving and merely surviving.

In their online spaces, they find language for experiences they thought were personal failings. They discover that executive dysfunction isn't laziness, that sensory overwhelm isn't being "too sensitive", that wanting to move whilst thinking isn't lack of discipline.

If these simple accommodations help so many people, why aren't they just... normal? Why do we need a medical certificate to deserve dimmer lights or flexible schedules or the radical concept of being able to move our bodies whilst thinking?

What our ancestors knew (and we forgot)

Indigenous cultures designed for the whole community, not the mythical average person. They created circles, literal circles, where everyone could see each other, where no one was at the back, where wisdom flowed in all directions.

Stone circles, medicine wheels across North America, Indigenous talking circles, African palaver trees. Every culture that survived for millennia understood that humans learn and grow and solve problems best when they can see each other's faces, when hierarchy is flattened, when the environment itself communicates belonging.

They understood that the young child who couldn't sit still might be the same person who could track animals better than anyone. They knew that the elder who processed slowly might hold the key to solving complex social problems. They designed for human variation because they recognised it as human nature.

Somewhere along the way society decided that efficiency was more important than inclusion. We built classrooms like factories, offices like prisons and homes like showrooms, for an imaginary standard human who never gets tired or overwhelmed or needs to move or think differently.

We traded circles for rows, collaboration for competition, wisdom for information. We created environments that serve systems instead of souls.

The ripple effect of design serving humanity

When I think about those circular workstations, such a simple design change, I can see the ripples spreading outward like stones dropped in still water.

Children who don't have to fight their environment to learn. Teachers who don't have to constantly manage behaviour that's actually just human need in conflict with inhuman design. Families who don't have to choose between their child's wellbeing and educational progress.

But the ripples go further. Imagine offices with quiet corners and movement spaces and lighting that doesn't assault your nervous system. Homes designed with sensory consideration and flexible spaces that can adapt to our changing needs. Public buildings where universal design isn't an afterthought but the foundation.

The beautiful truth is that when you design for the people who struggle most, you create environments where everyone thrives. Ramps help wheelchair users, but they also help people with prams and suitcases and tired legs. Captions help deaf people, but they also help anyone learning the language or in a noisy environment. Fidget tools help ADHD brains, but they also help anyone who thinks better with their hands.

People aren’t asking for special treatment. We should though recognise that human variation is the norm, not the exception. We could create spaces that bend and flex and breathe with us instead of against us.

Think about other circles we've traded… family dinners interrupted by individual screens, community gathering replaced by isolated consumption, kitchen tables where stories were shared now have chairs facing away from each other towards televisions.

Even our birth practices moved from squatting circles with midwives to lying flat for medical convenience. Even our healing traditions moved from talking circles to individual therapy couches. We've systematically dismantled the geometries of connection.

Learning revolution

Redesigning the physical environment is half the equation. Those circular workstations are a brilliant idea, but what happens inside the circle matters too.

It's not enough to arrange furniture if we're still prioritising compliance over curiosity, standardised answers over authentic questions, individual performance over collaborative growth. We need to redesign not just our spaces, but our entire approach to how humans learn and grow together.

I stumbled across the brilliant work of Serj Hunt and the essay he co-wrote with John Baumber called The Habits of High Agency Learning, which in their words;

“presents a practical framework for developing high agency in students, preparing them for an unpredictable future. We propose training adults to model “habits of high agency learning” in educational environments to foster self-direction, creativity, and resilience.”

Their framework is built on the concept of Learning Power, the ability to "know what to do when you don't know what to do." It's about developing eight core dispositions like mindful agency, curiosity, collaboration, and belonging that help humans navigate uncertainty and keep growing throughout their lives.

They translated these abstract concepts into eleven concrete habits that anyone can practice;

• Ask about inspirations - What excites you about this? Who inspires you in this field?

• Build webs of learning relationships - Create networks of support and collaboration around each learner

• Discuss and remove blockers - Simply ask: "What do you need to get where you're going?"

• Set goals - Help learners clarify their own direction and measure progress against their own standards

• Curate high-quality information - Guide students in building their own knowledge bases

• Practice deep work and bias toward action - Create time for focused work and encourage "just do it" momentum

• Reflect and share learnings publicly - Build accountability and community through regular sharing

• Build your own apprenticeship - Notice problems and send solutions to decision-makers

• Run or help run events - Develop leadership and organisational skills through real responsibility

• Explain systems with friends - Deepen understanding by teaching others

• Make lists of excellent things - Develop critical thinking and personal taste through comparison

Reading this list, I nearly cried again. Because these aren't special techniques for gifted students, they're basic human capacities we should all be developing… and definitely approaches I can learn from and use when designing effective learning experiences for adult upskilling. They're the pedagogical equivalent of those circular workstations… simple, powerful changes that honour how humans actually learn and grow.

We should prioritise teaching the skills that matter the most on a planet facing climate crisis, technological upheaval and social transformation. How to be curious when everyone's rushing towards answers. How to collaborate when competition is rewarded. How to persist through difficulty when everything's measured by speed. How to find your people when individualisation is prized. How to trust yourself when external validation is currency. How to contribute meaningfully to a world that can feel like it’s falling apart.

These are what we need to model in our classrooms and offices and living rooms, not perfect performance, but beautiful, messy, human resilience.

These habits create the learning culture that matches the circular design, where agency and belonging and authentic growth can flourish. The circle is the container. The habits are the content. And together, they create environments where humans can actually become who they're meant to be.

The vision that changes everything

Imagine walking into any space and feeling immediately that it was designed for humans like you. Not accommodating your needs as an afterthought, but anticipating them as natural and worthy of consideration.

Imagine learning environments where children discover their own rhythms and interests and ways of contributing. Where adults model curiosity instead of knowing it all. Where we celebrate the fidgeters and the questioners and the ones who need to lie on the floor to think properly.

Imagine workplaces designed around human flourishing rather than industrial efficiency. Homes that bend and flex with family life. Communities that gather in circles, sharing wisdom and stories and the radical act of seeing each other fully.

This isn't utopian dreaming, it's practical necessity. We all have additional support needs on a long enough timeline, and our environments need to work for us.

Coming full circle

I'm writing this from my kitchen table, itself a circle where my family gathers each evening, where homework gets done alongside cooking, where conversations flow in all directions. It's chaotic and imperfect and absolutely nothing like the sterile efficiency of some offices.

But sitting here, I can still feel that moment when the presenter said "circle" and everything shifted. The children who need those circular workstations aren't broken and neither are we. We're just beautifully, inevitably, wonderfully human.

And it's time our world caught up.

The next time you walk into a space that makes you feel immediately comfortable and capable, notice its design. I bet you'll find circles, or at least the spirit of them, the sense that this environment was created for actual humans to connect and learn and work together, with all our glorious variation and need.

The next time you're in a space that makes you feel wrong or excluded or like you're fighting your environment just to exist, ask ‘what would this look like if it were designed for humans instead of systems?’

Because that question, that simple, revolutionary question, might just crack something open in you too.

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What would change in your life if your environment was designed for the human you actually are, rather than the human you think you should be?

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Thank you for reading, beautiful souls. Your stories and reflections in the comments matter, let’s keep talking about and designing spaces, online and off, that honour the beautiful complexity of being human.

With love and circular thinking, Sarah, Seeking ikigai xxx

PS - Here are some bullet journal prompts to reflect on this week;

• Environment Audit: Walk through your home/workspace and note - What supports your energy? What drains it? What small changes could you make today to honour your actual needs?

• Timeline Reflection: Map your own neurodiverse timeline - when have you felt most/least supported by your environment? What patterns do you notice?

• Circle Mapping: Who are the people in your life who see and accept all versions of you? How can you create more circular, inclusive relationships in your daily life?

PPS - Try this AI coaching prompt: "I want to redesign my [home office/living room/classroom] to better support human variation and neurodiversity. Based on what I tell you about how I work/live/learn best, help me brainstorm specific changes I could make to lighting, seating, sound, organisation, and flow. Ask me questions about my sensory preferences, energy patterns, and what environments make me feel most creative and calm. Help me identify what accommodations I might benefit from, regardless of any diagnosis."

PPPS - This week's soundtrack: "Big Yellow Taxi" by Joni Mitchell. Because sometimes you really don't know what you've got till it's gone, like the indigenous wisdom about circles and community that we paved over with rows and hierarchies. Plus, Joni knew a thing or two about seeing both sides of situations and the courage it takes to question systems everyone else accepts as normal. The line "they took all the trees and put them in a tree museum" feels painfully relevant to how we've turned human connection into a commodity you have to buy back.