Op-ed: Neurodiversity in adulthood: My journey toward acceptance

I wrote this piece for the Western Mail newspaper in November 2023. If you're interested in hiring me to write similar content, please get in touch.

“What is Dyspraxia?” - those are the words I frantically typed into Google following a slightly unexpected email in the Spring of 2012. It was during my final few weeks of university, and I had just received the results of a Dyslexia assessment. To my surprise, I had instead shown all the common signs of Dyslexia’s lesser-known cousin, Dyspraxia.

Dyspraxia only gained medical recognition in the 1990s and is still often referred to as the ‘invisible disability’. Affecting approximately five per cent of the population, it presents difficulties in functions like hand-eye coordination, fine motor skills, short-term memory, thought organisation, and sensory sensitivities. It is synonymous with clumsiness, but its challenges go much deeper.

A Google search offered me initial insights, but comprehending Dyspraxia became a decade-long exploration of my past, present, and future through a new lens. To illustrate it another way, imagine navigating life for twenty-two years only to discover you've been carrying an immovable bear trap on your foot all along. The trap created obstacles through which you persevered, but acknowledging it unlocked an entirely new perspective.

At school, I had always been capable, but I struggled with handwriting, concentration, and following instructions. Rather than being accepted as someone who thought differently to others, I was often seen as a daydreamer. It was hard not to wonder how things could have been different were I given the support I needed in childhood. Instead, I got a slap on the back and told to work harder.

Throughout my life, I had always felt different to others, misplaced and like an outsider looking in. I struggled with eye contact, social cues and fitting into friendship circles. As I got older, the noise in shared offices gave me a sensory overload, forcing me to hide behind noise-cancelling headphones and be labelled unsociable. Things that were seemingly normal to others felt like an uphill challenge to me. Finally, I began to understand why.

However, as time went on, my perspective was transformed. I discovered the concept of neurodiversity, which acknowledges that conditions such as Autism, ADHD, Tourette’s Syndrome, Dyslexia, and Dyspraxia are not illnesses. Rather, they are natural variations of the human brain that lead many of us to experience the world differently. Indeed, around 1-in-7 people may have one or more of these neurodivergent conditions, unlike the neurotypical majority in society.

Neurodivergent people have always existed but have often been overlooked and stigmatised. We are your friends, colleagues, and loved ones. Neurodivergent minds have also made significant contributions throughout history, from the cracking of the enigma code by Alan Turing to the captivating performances of Sir Anthony Hopkins. Yet, polling shows society still misunderstands neurodivergence, seeing it as a set of afflictions that can be cured instead of differences to be celebrated.

This new perspective taught me that being neurodivergent was crucial to shaping who I am. My ability to focus intensely on a specific topic helped me learn to speak Welsh, even showcasing it on TV. I often consider perspectives others may overlook, which benefited me at work and in university essays. My unshakeable sense of justice also led me to political activism and to later stand successfully for Cardiff Council. My neurodivergent traits didn’t just pose challenges; they had given me fundamental strengths that I had leveraged without even realising.

Most importantly, I came to understand that the struggles I’d faced all my life were the symptom of a society geared toward a "one size fits all" approach. The problem was schools that valued quick arithmetic over creative thinking. It was workplaces preferring those who spoke the loudest in meetings over the ones who communicated away from the glare of colleagues. It was supermarkets blasting loud music under bright lights. I could go on.

Sadly, society’s failure to accommodate and accept neurodiversity has consequences. Poor mental health, lower levels of employment, and educational underachievement are all common within the neurodivergent population. Whereas diagnoses of conditions like Autism have increased eight-fold in recent decades, many wait years for assessments without support. Not just misunderstood, too many neurodivergent people are underdiagnosed and left to face their challenges alone.

In the next chapter of my journey, I am campaigning to make Cardiff a 'Neurodiversity Friendly City’. The aim is to change the culture of our capital, making it more accessible for the 55,000 residents with neurodivergent traits and conditions. From schools to transport and public spaces, it means ensuring neurodiversity is an everyday consideration. It’s about changing attitudes, but it’s also about transforming structures to allow neurodivergent people to fully take part in the life of our city.

The first step toward a neurodiversity-friendly Cardiff was recently taken, as my fellow Councillors unanimously supported a motion. It is now the official policy of Cardiff Council to support this cause. The long road ahead will also require citizens, businesses, and civic society alike to get involved if we are to be successful. Although ambitious, the prize at the end is a fairer city where we unlock everyone’s potential and reap the benefits.

After eleven years, I continue to learn and seek acceptance of my diagnosis. However, acceptance for me and millions of other neurodivergent people won’t be achieved while the world fails to value us and allows too many people to fall through the cracks. Society must change and I am determined to make Cardiff a shining beacon for others to follow.