When the Body Says “No” Too
The Hidden Convergence of Physical Ailments in Neurodivergent Women
People tend to think of neurodivergence as something that lives in the brain. A way of thinking, relating, processing. A cognitive difference. A label that sits quietly in a diagnostic report and occasionally causes social awkwardness or time blindness.
But for many neurodivergent women — myself included — the experience doesn’t stop at the mind.
It lives in the body.
It flares up in chronic illness.
It pulses through joints, blood pressure, fatigue, skin, gut, and pain.
It overwhelms our nervous systems and spills out in ways that are dismissed, misdiagnosed, or misunderstood for years.
Because being neurodivergent in a world not designed for your brain doesn’t just exhaust your mind.
It burns through your body, too.
We’re Not Just Tired — We’re Wiped Out
I’m not talking about needing a nap. I’m talking about bone-deep, whole-body fatigue.
The kind where getting out of bed feels like climbing a hill with sandbags strapped to your ankles.
The kind where the school run, a Zoom call, and thinking about dinner is enough to wipe you out for the rest of the day.
So many neurodivergent women live with this kind of exhaustion — and it’s often tied to physical conditions that cluster suspiciously close to our neurology.
The Overlap We’re Only Just Beginning to Talk About
Let’s name some of them:
Fibromyalgia
Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS)
Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS)
Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS)
Hashimoto’s / autoimmune thyroid conditions
Chronic migraines
Interstitial cystitis / bladder sensitivity
Chronic fatigue / ME
Sensory processing issues that cause real, physical pain
These are not minor complaints. These are life-shaping, often invisible conditions. And many of them are disproportionately common in neurodivergent women.
Coincidence? I don’t think so.
Why the Body Breaks Down
When you live in a constant state of fight, flight, freeze or mask, your body doesn’t get the chance to rest and repair.
You spend your days navigating overstimulation, social rules, unspoken expectations, executive dysfunction, and emotional dysregulation — often without support or understanding.
That takes a toll.
The nervous system that processes the world differently also processes pain, fatigue, digestion, and hormones differently.
And when you’ve spent your life internalising the belief that you’re “too much,” “too emotional,” or “making a fuss,” you learn to push through until you crash.
Hard.
Medical Gaslighting: The Double Bind
Neurodivergent women are already underdiagnosed and misdiagnosed — especially those who mask well or present with the so-called “high functioning” profile.
Add in complex, overlapping physical symptoms — and suddenly we’re “anxious,” “overreacting,” “depressed,” or “probably just hormonal.”
We get told to lose weight. To meditate. To try yoga.
We get referred to dieticians instead of rheumatologists.
We’re offered antidepressants instead of answers.
And when we do speak up — when we try to advocate for ourselves — we’re seen as difficult. Dramatic. Demanding.
It’s exhausting. Infuriating. And far too common.
The Cost of Constant Dysregulation
Let’s not underestimate how much energy it takes just to exist in a world that’s not built for your brain.
The lights are too bright.
The office is too loud.
The chair doesn’t feel right.
The email notification broke your concentration.
You’ve been masking through every interaction all day.
And now someone’s asking what’s for dinner and your body just says: nope.
That chronic dysregulation affects everything — digestion, sleep, hormones, immunity.
The stress isn’t imagined. It’s embodied. And over time, it shows up as illness.
Why Don’t We Talk About This More?
Because we’re not believed.
Because we’re too good at masking.
Because we think our pain is normal.
Because the research hasn’t caught up with the lived experience.
Because we’re women — and women’s health is still underfunded, under-researched, and often reduced to hysteria or hormones.
And because when neurodivergence meets chronic illness, people don’t know what to do with it.
So we turn to each other.
To the quiet conversations in DMs.
To Instagram stories and Substack posts.
To the women who say, “Me too.”
To the online support groups where someone finally says:
“You’re not imagining it. I get it. I live it too.”
What Helps (Even a Little)
I won’t pretend there’s a neat solution — but here’s what I’ve found can help when you’re living in a body and brain that are both exhausted:
Nervous system support first – before mindset work, before to-do lists. Start with regulation. Think pacing, breathwork, cold water, body doubling, and rest that isn’t earned.
Find the right practitioners – neurodivergent-informed GPs, physios, therapists, or coaches who believe you are worth gold.
Learn the language of your body – get curious, not critical. Ask, “What is this symptom trying to tell me?” instead of “Why can’t I just cope?”
Build community – find others living in the same Venn diagram of chronic illness and neurodivergence. You don’t need to do this alone.
Challenge internalised ableism – you are not lazy, weak, or broken. You’re carrying more than most people can see.
The convergence of physical ailments in neurodivergent women isn’t a coincidence — it’s a clue. A sign that the systems that failed to recognise us early have also failed to support our bodies as we grew.
But we’re not broken.
We are burnt out. Overstimulated. Under-supported.
And still — we are surviving. Adapting. Advocating. Naming what was previously invisible.
It’s time the world caught up.
Because our pain is real. Our experiences matter. And the sooner we stop separating the brain from the body, the sooner neurodivergent women will stop falling through the cracks.
Beautifully said, it’s taken me a long time to realise I don’t have to fit in to belong, I just have to be true to me.