*This is a re-write of a blog I wrote 10 years or so ago, re-written with a neurodivergent lens.

If you've spent more than five minutes online lately, you've seen it. The comments. The pile-ons. The person who shows up to a stranger's post absolutely hot headed over something that, genuinely, may not even affect their life.

And if you're neurodivergent, you probably felt that in your whole body before you even finished reading it.

Here's the thing: for a lot of us with ADHD, autism, or nervous systems shaped by trauma, conflict online doesn't stay online. It lands in our bodies. It activates our nervous systems. Your heart rate goes up, your jaw tightens, and suddenly you're either drafting a seventeen-paragraph response in your head or you've quietly closed the app and stared at the ceiling for an hour. Both are valid, by the way.

But I want to talk about what's actually happening when people argue on the internet, because I think understanding it might help us show up differently. For ourselves and for each other.

The cock-fight nobody is winning

Most online conflict isn't really about the topic. It's two people's nervous systems in a standoff, each one convinced that being louder, more certain, or more cutting will somehow make the other person understand.

It won't. It never does.

When someone leads with anger, the person on the receiving end doesn't think "hmmm, let me reconsider." Their threat response fires. Now you've got two activated nervous systems throwing opinions at each other while nobody is actually listening to anything. It becomes a performance of being right, not an actual conversation.

"The problem isn't that people have opinions. It's that they've forgotten how to share where those opinions came from."

And here's something that really matters: the world is not black and white (to every autistics shagrin). Not even close. Doctors are literally taught in school that over half of what they're learning will eventually be disproven or updated. If the people spending their lives studying something are working with incomplete information, the rest of us probably are too. That's not a weakness. That's just how knowledge works. It's alive, it shifts, it grows and it changes.

So in a world that's constantly changing, and where our understanding of basically everything is still evolving, we need to get better at talking to each other. Not just for the vibe. Because it actually matters.

Your experience is not everyone's experience

Here's where it gets interesting, especially for those of us who've spent a lifetime feeling misunderstood.

We are so beautifully, wildly diverse. Not just in the neurodiversity sense, though yes, absolutely that too. But in every sense. Two people can grow up in the same town, the same family even, and come out with completely different understandings of what the world is like. Every single factor of your life shapes your lens: your body, your wiring, your finances, your culture, the specific version of Tuesday that broke you open at age twelve.

So when someone shows up online as if their experience is the universal truth, the only logical response is: for who?

If you grew up poor and later became financially stable, you have a perspective on poverty. A real, valid, lived one. But it's still yours. It's different from someone who stayed poor, or someone who climbed out but never felt "wealthy," or someone who's never had to think about money once. And those are just a few of the variables.

I promise you: you will make sense to some people. And there will be more people who see it differently, simply because they lived it differently. That's not a failure of your perspective. It's just the reality of being human in a very big world.

So what actually works?

Share your experience instead of your opinion.

I know that sounds simple. It kind of is. But it requires something that internet culture actively discourages, which is a little vulnerability. Because saying "here's what I think" is armour. Saying "here's what happened to me, and here's how it shaped this belief" is a window.

Windows invite people in. Armour keeps them out.

When you paint a clear picture of where you're coming from, something shifts. The person reading it might not agree with you. Honestly, they probably won't. But they might understand you, and understanding is so much more valuable than agreement. Understanding builds something. Agreement on its own is often just two people standing in the same echo chamber.

"They may not change their mind. But they might feel less alone in their confusion. That's worth something."

Megan Phelps-Roper grew up inside the Westboro Baptist Church, one of the most extreme and closed environments imaginable. And she talks about how someone online sharing their experience, calmly and without judgment, was part of what cracked the door open for her. Not argument. Not being proven wrong. Genuine human storytelling. (She has a great TedTalk online for you to check out.)

That's the power we have when we show up differently.

A note for the neurodivergent humans in the room

If your nervous system is already working overtime just navigating daily life, adding internet conflict to the mix can tip you right over into shutdown or meltdown territory fast. That's not weakness. That's a sensitive, finely-tuned system doing its job a little too hard.

It's okay to close the app. It's okay to not engage. It's okay to type the response and then delete it.

And on the days when you do want to show up and say something, try coming from your story instead of your stance. It costs less nervous system energy and it actually lands.

Let's talk to each other. Not at each other.

The world gets weirder and louder every day. The antidote, I genuinely believe, is more humanity. More "here's what I lived" and less "here's why you're wrong."

We can do that. I've seen us do it. It's beautiful when it happens. This is one way to be the change. And I know we can do that. 💚💜

If you know someone who could hear this please share it with them or tag them. If you have a story to share where this happened, please comment. I want to hear your experiences.

Much love,

Kat

Photo by Zdeněk Macháček on Unsplash