Neurodivergent 101: The Words, the Basics, and What People Actually Mean

Maybe you just got a diagnosis. Maybe you fell down an internet rabbit hole at 2am and half of it described you a little too well. Maybe someone you love is neurodivergent and you want to actually understand them instead of nodding along to words you do not quite have yet.

However you got here, welcome. The neurodivergent world has its own vocabulary, and when you are new, it can feel like everyone got a glossary you never received. People throw stimming and masking and executive function around like you were supposed to be born knowing them. And some people use the words because they sound trendy, without knowing the real meaning underneath.

I know that lost feeling from the inside. I am Autistic and ADHD, and I collected most of these words years after I needed them, one late-night search at a time. Every definition below is one I wish someone had handed me sooner.

So here is that glossary, in plain language, with the shame stripped out. Use it to get your bearings, and maybe to finally put a word to a feeling you have always struggled to describe.

In this piece:

• The three foundational words everyone mixes up
• The conditions that sit under the neurodivergent umbrella
• The two models hiding behind every argument you see online
• The everyday vocabulary, translated
• A word on language and labels
• How to actually use all of this

It is a glossary, so it is built for skimming. Jump straight to the section you need, skip what you already know, and stop whenever you have enough. Coming back later counts as reading. Let's start with the most important distinction of all.

The foundational words: diversity, divergent, typical

These three get mixed up constantly.

Neurodiversity is the simple fact that human brains vary. All of them. It is a feature of the whole species, the same way biodiversity describes the natural variation across an ecosystem. Nobody is "neurodiverse" on their own, because the word describes a group, a population, humanity as a whole. There has never been one correct kind of brain.

Neurodivergent describes an individual whose brain works in a way that diverges from what society has decided is the standard. Autistic people, ADHDers, dyslexic people and others are neurodivergent. It is an umbrella term, not a single condition, and a person can sit under it for all sorts of reasons.

Neurotypical describes someone whose brain works in the way society expects and was built around. You will also see allistic, which specifically means non-autistic, whether or not that person is neurotypical in other ways.

Hold onto the first two especially. Neurodiversity is the whole spectrum of human minds. Neurodivergent is you, or the person you love, being one particular and valid variation within it.

The conditions that usually sit under the umbrella

"Neurodivergent" is a big tent. The ones you will hear about most often:

Autism, a neurodevelopmental difference involving social communication that works differently, a preference for predictability and routine, deep focused interests, and notable sensory sensitivity. It is a spectrum, but not the straight line from "a little" to "a lot" that people imagine. It is more like a mixing desk, with every slider set differently for every person.

ADHD, which stands for attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder, although the name badly undersells it. There is no shortage of attention. What differs is how attention and motivation are regulated, alongside differences in executive function, impulse control, and emotional intensity.

AuDHD, the increasingly common shorthand for being both Autistic and ADHD at once. Until 2013, the diagnostic manual clinicians use did not even allow both to be diagnosed together, which is part of why so many people are only finding the full picture now. It often feels like a seesaw, one part of you craving structure and quiet, the other craving novelty and stimulation.

You will also meet dyslexia (reading and language processing), dyspraxia (movement and coordination), dyscalculia (numbers), Tourette's and tic disorders, and others. Many people are a combination. Which brings us to a word worth knowing: co-occurring or comorbid conditions, meaning the very common situation of having more than one of these, often alongside anxiety or depression. The overlap is the norm, not the exception.

The two models hiding behind every conversation

Here is something that will help you make sense of arguments you see online. Almost every disagreement about neurodivergence comes down to which of two underlying models someone is using, usually without realising it.

The medical model locates the problem inside the person. It speaks in deficits, disorders and symptoms, and measures the gap between someone and a "normal" baseline. From this lens, the goal is to reduce the symptoms and close the gap.

The social model of disability says something different. It argues that a lot of what disables a person is not the brain or body itself, but the mismatch between that person and an environment built without them in mind. Stairs do not disable a wheelchair user. The missing ramp does. The same goes for an open-plan office: for a brain that takes in everything, the noise, the light and the constant movement stop being background and start being a wall between you and your work.

Sitting on top of the social model is the neurodiversity paradigm, the affirming stance that cognitive variation is a natural, expected part of being human, not an error to be corrected. This is the lens most of the affirming community, and my own practice, leads with. It does not throw away medical support where it genuinely helps. It just refuses to treat a whole way of being human as a defect.

If you remember one thing from this section, make it this. When the question is "what is wrong with this person," that is the medical model talking. When the question is "what does this person need, and what part of the environment is in the way," that is the affirming lens. The lens you lead with quietly changes everything downstream.

The everyday vocabulary

Now the words you will hear in actual conversation, each in a sentence.

Stimming, short for self-stimulatory behaviour. Repetitive movement or sound, like rocking, hand-flapping, fidgeting, humming or repeating a favourite phrase, that helps regulate the nervous system. It is a tool, not a habit to break.

Masking (or camouflaging). Consciously or unconsciously hiding your natural traits and performing more neurotypical behaviour to fit in or stay safe. It is exhausting, and it is understood as a response to an unsafe world, not as dishonesty.

Executive function. The brain's management system, handling planning, prioritising, starting tasks, holding things in mind, and following through. Think of it as the brain's CEO. In many neurodivergent brains it works inconsistently, which gets misread as "lazy," a verdict usually handed down by a school report or a manager who never saw the effort. The struggle produces the label, never the other way around.

Sensory processing. How the brain takes in and handles input from the senses. Many neurodivergent people are hypersensitive (too much input, easily overwhelmed) or hyposensitive (seeking more input), often both, in different channels.

Meltdown and shutdown. Two responses to overwhelm. A meltdown is an external loss of control, crying, shouting, agitation. A shutdown is the internal version, going quiet, freezing, withdrawing. Neither is a tantrum. Both are a nervous system past its limit.

Burnout. Specifically neurodivergent burnout. Deep exhaustion, a loss of skills you usually have, and a lower tolerance for sensory input, caused by long-term masking and pushing past your capacity. It is distinct from ordinary tiredness and needs more than a holiday to recover from.

Special interests and hyperfocus. The deep, joyful, sometimes all-consuming focus a neurodivergent brain can give to a topic it loves. A genuine strength, not a quirk to manage away.

RSD, rejection sensitive dysphoria. An intense, painful emotional response to perceived rejection, criticism or failure, even minor. It is not a formal diagnosis, but it names something a lot of ADHDers recognise instantly.

PDA, often called pathological demand avoidance, though many in the community prefer "persistent drive for autonomy." An anxiety-driven resistance to demands, including demands you set for yourself. Less defiance, more a nervous system protecting its autonomy.

Spiky profile. The pattern where a neurodivergent person is exceptional at some things and genuinely struggles with others, instead of being evenly "average" across the board. The unevenness is the point, and it is why "but you're so capable, how can you struggle with that" misses how these brains work.

The double empathy problem (Damian Milton, 2012). The idea that communication breakdowns between neurodivergent and neurotypical people are a two-way mismatch, not a one-sided deficit. Both sides struggle to read each other. Nobody is broken, the protocols just differ.

A quick word on language, because it matters

You will notice some people say "autistic person" and others say "person with autism." Those are the two sides of what gets called the identity-first versus person-first debate, and it is simpler than it sounds.

Person-first language ("a person with autism") was taught for years as the respectful option, on the logic that the person should come before the condition. Identity-first language ("an autistic person") is what most autistic self-advocates actually prefer, because autism is not a bag they happen to carry or an illness attached to them. It shapes how they think, sense and experience everything, so it belongs in the name, the same way you would say "a left-handed person" and never "a person with left-handedness." Many ADHDers are comfortable either way.

You do not have to memorise the debate. The kind move is simple: use what the person in front of you uses, and if you are not sure, ask.

While we are on language, a few framings worth gently retiring, because they do real harm. "Suffers from autism." "Everyone's a little bit autistic." The language of being broken, cured, or fixed.

And the big one: "high functioning" and "low functioning." Those labels were never measurements of a person's inner life; they were descriptions of how a person's struggles look from the outside. "High functioning" sounds like a compliment, but in practice it often means "your struggles are invisible, so you get no support." "Low functioning" sounds like a verdict, and it erases every strength the person has. One label hides the struggle, the other hides the person. Clinicians have largely moved on too: the current diagnostic manual describes autism in support levels (level 1, 2 or 3, meaning requiring support, requiring substantial support, and requiring very substantial support), which at least asks the useful question. The affirming community goes one step further and simply talks about strengths and support needs, which can differ by day, context and environment. That is a more accurate map of any human being.

Why all of this matters

None of this is vocabulary for its own sake. Words change where you look for answers.

If you only have deficit language, every difference reads as a flaw, and the only move available is to try harder to be normal. That road leads to exhaustion and shame, and a lot of us spent years on it. The moment you have the affirming vocabulary, a different set of options opens up. You can name a trait without pathologising it. You can spot the barrier in the environment instead of the failing in the person. You can ask for what you need without apologising for existing.

Language is also how you find your people. The first time someone reads the word "masking" and realises there is a name for the thing that has been quietly draining them their whole life, something shifts. You are not the only one. There was never anything wrong with you that the right words and the right environment could not reframe.

Practical understanding: how to use this

1. Start with the two big distinctions.

If all you keep is "neurodiversity is the whole spectrum, neurodivergent is an individual within it," and "the affirming question is what's needed, not what's wrong," you already understand more than most. Everything else hangs off those two.

2. Let people self-define.

Nobody gets to assign someone else a label, decide how "autistic" they are, or correct their language for them. If you are supporting someone, follow their lead on identity and wording. If you are exploring this for yourself, you are allowed to try words on and see what fits.

3. Treat self-diagnosis with respect.

Formal assessment is expensive, gated, and built on diagnostic criteria developed mostly from studies of young boys from one narrow demographic. That history means women, people of colour, gender-diverse people and adults were overlooked for decades, and many still are, which is why so many people arrive through self-identification first. In the affirming community, self-diagnosis is widely treated as valid. You do not need a piece of paper to start understanding yourself.

4. Notice the model behind the advice.

When you read a tip, an article, or a comment, ask quietly which model it is running on. Is it trying to make someone less themselves, or trying to remove a barrier and meet a need? That single filter will help you sort genuinely affirming guidance from the polished version of "just try harder."

5. Go gently, and in your own time.

You do not have to learn the whole language in a weekend. This is a lot, especially if you are also processing what it means for your own life. Bookmark this, take the words you need today, and come back for the rest when you have the capacity.

The takeaway

Neurodivergence is not a single condition or a problem to be solved. It is the simple, ancient fact that human brains vary, and that some of us diverge from a "standard" that was never as universal as it was made to sound.

The words matter because they change the question. Away from "what is wrong with me" and toward "what do I need, and what in my world is in the way." That shift is where the shame starts to lift and the actual building begins.