You Can’t Connect If You Can’t Be Real; Supportive Relationships Start With Being Who You Are, Not Who You Think You Should Be

This episode is about the necessity of having true connections with others. Some neurodivergent people experience a lack of authentic connections as a very obvious, painful, often urgent problem. But many of us aren't aware, or don't understand, that real connections are missing from our lives because we're surrounded by people. We have friends, coworkers, a partner or spouse, a family. Some of us have maintained friendships for decades. We're the trusted, go-to person for many and know these people would be there for us if we needed them, but somehow we feel alone a lot of the time, and that loneliness is muffled, almost blurry, like a dull pain you can mostly ignore except when you bump it really hard or notice all the sudden how long it's been there.

Today I'll talk about why even long-lasting relationships that seem, on the surface, to be strong and deep can be hollow. I'll lay out why this matters, the common but rarely discussed experiences that get us there, why it takes many of us so long to recognize it, and what we can do to change it. Because it turns out that connection isn't just nice to have, and it's not a fictional concept reserved for sitcoms or movies centered around sisterhood or bromances. Authentic connection is actually necessary for people to thrive, and it's possible for all of us, but finding and keeping it means going against everything we learned in our earliest experiences of making friends. Here's a hint: Trying Harder doesn't work.

Let's get started with real research from "the longest in-depth longitudinal study on human life ever done," according to the study's current director. I'm referring to a Harvard research project that began in 1938 with the goal of identifying predictors of healthy aging. Like a lot of research at that time, the study initially included only male participants, but grew to include their spouses and children. Data has been collected from the ever-expanding group of participants every 2 years for nearly 90 years, and one thing has consistently predicted better physical health, stronger mental health, higher life satisfaction, and even higher income and career success. Can you guess what it is?

I'll tell you what it isn't first. It's not good genes. It's not diet or exercise. It's not education or generational wealth. It's not a personality type, religious affiliation or spiritual beliefs, or having low exposure to stress or trauma. All of the measured variables of health, happiness, and meaning in participants' lives have hinged most on the quality of their relationships.

Of course, this study began before the first Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders was published, when neurodivergence was even less clearly understood than it is today, so its findings are certainly not specific to us. But the study is large and long enough that we know the findings are generalizable, meaning that they're statistically likely to apply to most people. And while research on neurodivergent people's experiences is still agonizingly limited, there are studies showing that we are disproportionately affected by relationship struggles.

For instance, multiple studies have revealed higher levels of loneliness in autistic children, adolescents, and adults compared to non-autistic people in the same age groups. Keep in mind that loneliness is not the same as being alone, so these findings take into account the people who are less motivated by social connection or even prefer being alone, since they would not report feeling lonely. And that's not to say that autistic people don't want or care about relationships. That notion is a throwback to the time of the "refrigerator mother" theory, and they're both bullshit.

Regardless of where one is on the wide range of neurodiversity, any of us can feel deeply connected while in the company of no one, and might feel profoundly isolated when surrounded by people. As more studies are done on ADHD research indicates that adults with ADHD have significantly more difficulty than neurotypical adults with forming and maintaining both friendships and romantic relationships.

If you follow me on social media, you probably know that I am eternally indebted to the work of Ned Hallowell, who's a psychiatrist and maverick as one of the first, and most vocal, in his field to focus on the strengths of ADHD and other forms of neurodivergence, and to reimagine "treatment" as strategies for managing common challenges. One of the things Dr. Hallowell says is essential for optimal functioning for neurodivergent people is what he calls "the other Vitamin C" or "Vitamin Connect." He even goes so far as to say, "There's nothing in the world that changes people more for the good than the force of connection."

If we pause and check the scoreboard here, we've got plenty of evidence that meaningful connection with others is essential ~ not helpful, not nice, not a bonus, but ESSENTIAL ~ for thriving. And then we have us, who have a hard time making and keeping connections ~ at all, for some of us, and for others, it's the connections in which we're truly seen and supported as our authentic selves. Our difficulties have far less to do with the actual differences in the ways our brains process information, and much more to do with how we were socialized as people with differences.

Societal standards, expectations, and messages that fostered connection for most neurotypical children taught us to prioritize compliance, performance, and likability over connection. We learned to suppress, hide, or mask many of our natural qualities and traits in order to avoid being corrected, criticized, excluded, and even punished.

Many of us adapted by learning to be useful, agreeable, or funny, which made us valuable to others, while distancing us from ourselves. Early on, we learned we can't trust ourselves, and over time, we fall behind the typical trajectory of identity development as the likable, compliant version of ourselves takes center stage, while our authentic selves cower in the background.

This arises from human instinct to protect ourselves from rejection and scorn, but leaves even the most outwardly popular, beloved, and successful among us having little sense of who we actually are or what we truly want and need. And most of the societal messages we receive as adults still emphasize compliance, performance, and likability, so any sense we have of dissatisfaction with our connections is met with that long-standing distrust in ourselves and notions that we still haven't done enough to be the type of people who can, and deserve to, connect meaningfully with others.

Some of us just give up, but most of us try harder, of course. We waste immeasurable time and energy, both consciously and unconsciously, taking in the qualities of people who have what we feel we lack, but only the inauthentic parts of ourselves can be modified like that, so the best that can come from those efforts is that our façade draws more connections, which only reinforces the belief that the real us is unlikable, unlovable, and should stay hidden.

But human beings are wired for connection. Our nervous systems co-regulate in connection with others. Our brains respond to safe, welcoming, reliable relationships by calming down and functioning better. When we're concealing parts of ourselves, we're chronically isolated and misunderstood, even by ourselves, which limits the relationships we do have and our capacity to benefit from them. Even without knowing what we're missing, the lack of authentic connection reduces our quality of life. We doubt ourselves more. We struggle to recover from setbacks. We get stuck in survival mode. We may feel an unremitting sadness or longing, chronic irritability or frustration, or persistent fatigue. We might feel like we're constantly giving and rarely receiving ~ a feeling that may be chased by intense guilt and self-beratement for not appreciating what we have. The obvious solution to which is to ~ you guessed it ~ try harder to be different than we are.

As you’re reading that, I hope you're seeing it for how absolutely absurd it is. We can only get what we need by being authentic, but when we aren't getting what we need, we redouble our efforts to be something we aren't. It's a lot like the phenomena of paradoxical undressing and terminal burrowing when a person who is freezing takes off their clothing and may dig themselves deep into snow. Except that those are autonomic responses to hypothermia that occur just before the stage known as "apparent death," when all the body's systems have failed. Our inclination to change ourselves to get the warmth of connection is partially intrinsic, since humans need other humans to survive, but it's mostly taught.

Think back to your earliest memories. Can you recall situations when you were being yourself, then given the message, implicitly or explicitly, that you needed to stop it if you wanted to be accepted or included? Maybe a parent told you to "stop being weird" if you wanted to make friends, a classmate made fun of how much you talked, or a teacher embarrassed you in front of the class and held you back from lunch and recess with your peers because you insisted you were right about something (and you were). These messages add up, especially when some of them are delivered with good intentions from people who think they're helping us, as is often the case with parents. Since we're also wired to trust our parents, or primary caregivers, who literally keep us alive, even harmful messages from them become deeply ingrained in our understanding of ourselves and the world.

So here we are, knowing that our physical and mental health, happiness and satisfaction with ourselves, success in whatever endeavors we pursue, and even our earning potential are optimized by quality connections with others, and diminished by not having genuine, reliable relationships. We also know that we have to be true to ourselves in those relationships in order for the connections to be beneficial ~ in other words, for them to enrich and enhance our lives rather than deplete us. And we know that our early experiences taught us to be inauthentic ~ in some ways, or all ways ~ and most of us can also see how that inauthenticity has been perpetuated and reinforced by adult interactions, even with well-meaning friends, and especially for those of us who haven't been able to create or sustain any relationships with non-family members.

You're still watching or listening, so I know you want the best physical and mental health you can have. You want to be happy and successful, and to have your earnings match the lifestyle you want. And you probably want the actual connection with other people that can only develop when you stop disguising and trying to extinguish aspects of yourself. You may have even come far enough on this journey that you want to connect with your authentic self, because some part of you remembers that kid, or knows that part of you that only makes an appearance on very rare occasions. So what can you do if trying harder is akin to burying yourself naked in the snow to stay warm? How do you try easier? Hell, if I know.

I'm just teasing. A little humor helps sometimes...

There are things you can do, and they truly are easier than the relentless pursuit of becoming something other than what you are. That being said, trying harder is familiar to most of us, and is supported by deeply ingrained subconscious beliefs that our authentic selves are undesirable, and can and should be corrected. That means there's no quick fix, because there's no reason you should fix yourself, and improving the quality of your connections and your life will probably not be quick. If that makes you want to close this episode, I understand, but give me one more moment to offer you something to consider: Of all the effort you've put into becoming the version of yourself you've been taught you have to be, have you ever been able to fix something about yourself you saw as broken? And if so, was it quick, did it last, and were you actually happier, healthier, or more fulfilled?

For most of us, the answer to those questions are, "No," "No," "No," and "No." So what have we got to lose by doing something else? Let's talk about what that something else actually is, because I'm not going to tell you to be vulnerable without telling you why it's worth it. And I'm definitely not going to suggest you start sharing your deepest truths with the next person who asks you how you're doing, or call your best friend right now and inform her that, after 30 years of friendship, she doesn't know you at all. Though if either of those feels authentic and right for you, give it a shot. But what I'm recommending is a gradual process of alignment, of getting incrementally closer to the truth of who you are, both in your understanding of yourself and in the ways you move through your life and your relationships.

And yes, it's risky. You may discover vulnerabilities you didn't know you had, and don't want to have. You may catch yourself off guard. You will very likely catch other people off guard, and some of them will be uncomfortable when you stop doing the things they've come to expect. Some may pull back when you stop over-accommodating or over-performing. Some people only know how to connect with the curated version of you ~ the one who goes out of their way to make others comfortable, never expecting ~ and rarely, if ever, accepting ~ the same courtesy, the one who hasn't rocked the boat with their own opinions, preferences, and perspectives ~ until now. There may be people in your life who only signed up for that version of you, and those who can't accept that it was artificial. Those are the people you've been performing for, until you discovered what that performance is costing you. It doesn't mean you have to cut them out of your life, but they aren't the people you'll want closest to you for this part of your journey, because they're not the people with whom you can build real connections.

The shift toward connection starts with being honest with yourself. Not with everyone and not all at once, just honest enough for you to notice when you're slipping into performance mode, or masking, or fake you. You can even give that version of yourself a name if it helps you delineate, because most of us are shocked by the extent of the distance between the "me" everyone knows ~ including ourselves ~ and the real version. All you do at first is notice when you're saying what you think other people want to hear, or keeping a thought to yourself that you think others will oppose, or when "fun" interactions leave you feeling empty and exhausted.

Pay attention when what you think or want or feel doesn't quite match what you're saying or doing, which may likely include the realization that you don't know what you think, want or feel in certain situations. That's normal for those of us trying to uncover our authentic selves, but it can be painful to experience. You may be embarrassed or angry or sad about being whatever age you are and having no idea what clothing styles you actually like, which political party's policies align with your actual values, or how to express the emotion you have when someone speaks to you harshly.

Remember that you are likely going through the process of discovering your identity that most people did much earlier in life. It can be awkward and uncomfortable, but it's also exciting and, probably most importantly, temporary. You've stepped off a difficult path that will always be difficult, and onto a difficult path that will be much easier ~ and better with a more beautiful view ~ soon, so just keep going.

When you're consistently noticing yourself stepping into the role of the "you" people expect, you can take a more active role by exploring the activities, roles, and relationships in your life. By asking yourself why you do, or engage in, them, you can distinguish what motivates and is meaningful to you from what simply matches others' expectations for you, what you think you should want and value, and what allows you to avoid criticism and rejection. You don't need to do anything with what you're discovering, because you're meeting the objective just by being honest with yourself.

For some of us, that territory is entirely new, and potentially life-altering in and of itself. Depending on how interwoven your life is with others', this authentic self-knowledge may give way to what I call "free" changes, because there are no social repercussions. For example, if you live alone, no one will be affected if you start trying new recipes after you realize that you've been making yourself traditional Italian meals you hate for years only because your late grandmother frequently commented on the importance of being a "real Italian."

If you see your friend group on weekends, no one will know if you drop the spin class you've been taking after work only because of an idea you have that nothing less counts as exercise, and they also won't know that you enrolled in a tap dance class instead. Of course, you can tell people if you want to, but there are often ways to start aligning our lives with our authentic interests and preferences without also exposing ourselves to others' reactions. What matters is that you're responding, even in very small ways, to what your authentic self is telling you, which immediately increases the odds that you'll encounter someone with whom you may develop a real connection.

For most of us, we will eventually have to express our authentic opinions, preferences, needs, and desires to other people, though you will still have choices in that area, too. There are no authenticity police, so you get to decide which situations you shift in, and if there are any that aren't worth the effort. Even in interactions with people you don't see often or that have minimal impact on your life, you can choose to be subtly more authentic. For example, if you always agree with the rambling small talk of a coworker you rarely encounter, you could opt to say, "I don't know," or, "I'm not sure," when they pull for your agreement on a topic.

That approach can be applied to more important relationships as well. Rather than saying that something is true for you, you can offer a non-committed opinion before you shout a newly discovered opposing viewpoint through a megaphone. For instance, if you always see a certain artist in concert with your spouse or friend group, and they ask you if you're ready for the tour dates to be announced next week, you could say, "I actually haven't given that any thought," rather than, "I never really liked their music and I actually hate being in the general admissions section, even though that's what we've always done." The whole truth is good, but it can be a lot to throw out there, and there are smaller ways to better align your actions with your authenticity.

You also get to choose with whom you speak more authentically. Maybe you speak more of your own truth to your closest friends, the coworker who's known you the longest, or your most accepting relative. You can also choose to be authentic in brand new relationships, since the person you've been chatting with before tap dance class has no knowledge of the masked version of you.

Being true to yourself doesn't mean you have to now ~ or will ever have to ~ give up any relationship, nor do you have to be fully authentic with everyone you encounter. Very few people are, but most people prioritize authenticity over their fear of rejection in relationships that matter to them the most.

Remember that absolutely no one ~ neurodivergent or neurotypical ~ is liked by everyone. If part of you just disagreed with me, that's the part of you that's willing and able to morph into whatever anyone wants, because it has no foundation of authenticity. It's not real, so whatever esteem it gets from others is meaningless. Real connection is for real people, and real people have preferences. So if you tell your tap dance acquaintance all about the deep dive you're making into the world of Southeast Asian cuisine after a lifetime of Italian food, and they look bored, and don't show up to the next class, that's okay. They don't have to pretend to be interested any more than you have to pretend to love tailgating for a concert you won't even enjoy.

Though you're exposing your authenticity to others, the primary objective is still to acknowledge your true self and move away from presenting a modified version instead. The added bonus is that the right people will find you if your authenticity is out in the open. Your best friend may be in the next tap class you take. Your future spouse may be the person in the Asian grocery store who kindly tells you pho is pronounced "fuh," not "foh," and tells you you can remember it by starting to say the F-word. And your future spouse may actually be your current spouse, who surprises you just as much as you surprise them when they tell you they've never liked those concerts either, and were only going for you.

All of this comes back to being who you are, which I would argue is your only real option anyway. Being authentic is the only way to be whole. It's the only way to know and trust yourself. It's the only way to be truly known, trusted, and supported by others. And according to a study that's been going strong for almost 90 years, it's the foundation for the best way to safeguard and optimize your health, happiness, and success.

Quality connections and Dr. Hallowell's "other Vitamin C," are essential to your wellbeing. And in the long run, they truly are easier to create and maintain than relationships that require constant, endless effort to try not to be you. That's too hard, it doesn't make you happy or healthy, it doesn't work, and you don't have to do it.

Until next time, my friend, remember: You don't have to change yourself to deserve happiness or success. Being who you are isn't the problem; it's the solution. I'm rooting for you ~ exactly as you are.