She Thinks Different

29/03/2026

💜🫶🏼💥🎙

20/03/2026

No one talks enough about how brutal menstruation can be for neurodivergent women.

This month, my period absolutely floored me.

Not just cramps.
Not just feeling a bit emotional.
I mean a full-body, full-brain, nervous-system takedown.

I didn’t feel like myself.
Everything felt heavier, sharper, harder.
My emotions went through the roof, my tolerance disappeared, and I felt so overwhelmed I nearly pushed away the person I love most.

And this is the bit people do not say loudly enough: for many neurodivergent women, hormonal shifts don’t just affect mood — they can completely destabilise the nervous system.

🚫ADHD can get louder.
🔥Autistic overwhelm can get worse.
🚫Sensory tolerance can vanish.
🔥Executive functioning can fall apart.
🚫Rejection sensitivity can spike.
🔥Emotional regulation can fall off a cliff.

But there’s another layer people rarely talk about properly — dopamine.

Sometimes it isn’t “bad self-control” — it’s hormones hitting an already dopamine-hungry brain.

Many neurodivergent women, especially those with ADHD or AuDHD, are already working with a brain that struggles with dopamine regulation.

Dopamine plays a huge role in motivation, reward, pleasure, focus, and impulse control. When hormones shift across the menstrual cycle, that already-fragile balance can get even shakier.

So it’s not just that you feel more emotional.
It’s that your brain may be getting even less access to the chemicals that help you feel steady, motivated, soothed, and in control.

That can show up as:

✨️intense cravings for sugar, carbs, or high-reward foods
✨️eating more because your brain is desperately searching for quick dopamine
✨️drinking more alcohol to switch off, numb out, or create temporary relief
✨️needing more stimulation, more comfort, more something just to feel remotely regulated
✨️feeling flat, joyless, restless, or impossible to satisfy

This is where a lot of women end up being hard on themselves.

They think, Why can’t I just control myself?

Why am I eating everything?

Why do I suddenly want wine, comfort, dopamine, anything that makes this feel less awful?

But when your hormones drop, your dopamine dips, and your nervous system is already overloaded, your brain will often reach for the fastest available source of relief.

That isn’t a lack of willpower.
It’s a brain trying to self-medicate distress.

And for some women, even basic menstrual care becomes harder at this point. The sensory discomfort of pads, tampons, period pain, bloating, body changes, disrupted routines, and hygiene demands can all feel amplified. What seems minor to someone else can feel unbearable when your entire system is already under strain.

So if you have ever felt like you become a different person before or during your period — more hopeless, more volatile, more shut down, more panicked, more emotionally raw, more impulsive, more desperate for comfort or escape — you are not weak, dramatic, or “just bad at coping.”

Your brain and nervous system may be reacting to hormonal change in a very real, very intense way.

We need to talk far more openly about the link between neurodivergence, menstruation, PMDD, hormone sensitivity, dopamine dysregulation, food, alcohol, impulsivity, and suicidal thoughts — because too many women are suffering in silence, blaming themselves for patterns that make perfect neurological sense.

It isn’t just you.

And it deserves proper understanding, real support, and serious attention — not minimising, not dismissal, and definitely not “it’s just your hormones” as though that makes it less important.

If this is you, please start tracking it.
Notice the pattern.
Look at your mood, your cravings, your sensory tolerance, your alcohol intake, your impulsivity, and your thoughts.

Name it.
Take it seriously.

Because when your cycle hits your brain like a truck every month, that is not something you should be expected to just push through.

It is something that needs care.

💜

18/03/2026

🏠 The Unfinished Room Theory

At its core:
Every person you let emotionally close helps build a “room” inside you.

Some leave it whole.
Others leave it unfinished.
And you’re the one who has to live in the house.

For neurodivergent women — who feel deeply, notice everything, and often attach through intensity and meaning — those rooms don’t just exist…

They echo.

🧠 What This Actually Means

This maps onto:
✨ attachment patterns
✨ emotional imprinting
✨ relational trauma
✨ schema formation

But here’s the neurodivergent layer:
Your nervous system doesn’t just remember relationships —
it stores them vividly.

Each relationship:
✨ shapes what you expect from people
✨ teaches your system what feels “safe” or unsafe
✨ leaves emotional residue that’s harder to shake

So when someone leaves abruptly, inconsistently, or carelessly…

👉 they don’t just leave you
👉 they leave a fully activated emotional environment behind.

And your brain doesn’t file that away neatly.
It keeps it open.

🧩 The “Mid-Renovation” Bit

This is where it hits hardest.

An unfinished room might hold:
💔 unanswered questions (“what did I do wrong?”)
💔 broken trust (“people change / leave / switch”)
💔 emotional overload (confusion, longing, rumination)
💔 identity wounds (“I’m too much” / “I’m not enough”)

And because neurodivergent brains are pattern-seeking, meaning-making machines…
👉 your brain tries to finish the room using future people.

Not because you’re naive.
Because your system wants closure, clarity, and safety.

🔁 How It Shows Up

You overreact to small things
→ because it’s not small, it’s layered history

You attach quickly or deeply
→ because connection feels intense and meaningful

You struggle to trust
→ because your system remembers everything that wasn’t safe

You replay conversations
→ trying to “solve” what was never explained

You feel “too much” or “not enough”
→ because you filled in the gaps with self-blame

🛠️ What People Get Wrong

Healing is not:

“Just let it go”
“Move on”
“Stop overthinking"

That doesn’t work for a brain that processes deeply and holds onto meaning.

You don’t demolish the house every time someone hurts you.

Instead:
✨ you revisit the room
✨ you make sense of what happened
✨ you update the meaning
✨ you decide what stays and what goes

And sometimes…
👉 you close the door — not out of avoidance, but out of choice

💬 Straight Talk

Some people came into your life,
picked up emotional tools,
started building something…
…and then left mid-project.

And you’re left standing there thinking:
“So I’m expected to finish this?”
Unfair? Completely.
Reality? Also yes.

🌱 The Power Bit

This is where it shifts for neurodivergent women:
👉 You are not “too sensitive” — you are deep processors
👉 You are not “overreacting” — you are responding to accumulated emotional data

And most importantly:
You didn’t create the mess.

But you do get to decide what it means now.

🔥 Closing

Some people left rooms half-built — walls unfinished, tools everywhere, questions hanging in the air.
That confusion? That looping? That emotional weight?
It makes sense.

But here’s the shift:

You don’t have to keep inviting new people in to finish old rooms.

You can learn to sit in them.
Understand them.
Rebuild them — your way.

Because the moment you realise you own the house…

You stop waiting for someone else to complete it.

💜

12/03/2026

DON’T FALL FOR THE LIES.

The message that ADHD is over diagnosed is simply an attempt to make dangerous cuts to health funding more palatable to the general public.

There are numerous peer reviewed studies proving that ADHD is underdiagnosed not over diagnosed.

In addition it is well proved (and even included in the NHS’s own ADHD Taskforce reports) that diagnosing and treating ADHD is far cheaper than not. With untreated ADHD costing the economy at least £17 billion per year.

People with ADHD (and don’t forget this includes CHILDREN) are proven to be at increased risk of su***de, accidents, self harm, educational failure, mental health crisis, unemployment, involvement in crime, relationship breakdown, addiction, debt, homelessness and much more.

Society has to take it seriously.

11/03/2026

Masking

There’s growing awareness that autism doesn’t always look the way people expect it to. In many environments — especially school or work — autistic traits can be much harder to see. At home, however, the story can look very different.

It’s actually quite common for children and young people who are described as “quiet,” “well behaved,” or “no trouble at all” in school to come home completely dysregulated. That’s because they’ve spent the entire day holding themselves together, carrying anxiety, monitoring their behaviour, and trying to fit in.

This is what we call masking.

Masking is a more internalised way autism can present. It’s often talked about more in girls and women, but the reality is that boys and men can experience it too.

At its core, masking is when an autistic person — often without even realising they’re doing it — camouflages parts of themselves in order to blend in socially.

What Masking Actually Looks Like

Masking usually involves carefully observing how other people behave and then copying those behaviours in order to appear more “typical.”

This can look like things such as:

✨️ forcing eye contact even though it feels uncomfortable
✨️mentally rehearsing conversations before they happen
✨️using learned scripts to get through social situations
✨️practising facial expressions in the mirror
✨️copying other people’s tone, gestures, or way of speaking
✨️hiding stimming behaviours or replacing them with subtler ones (like squeezing toes inside shoes instead of using hands)
✨️avoiding talking about special interests so as not to stand out
✨️pretending to be interested in conversations that actually feel draining
✨️hiding anxiety, fear, or overwhelm
✨️masking sensory overload in busy environments
✨️replaying conversations over and over afterwards, worrying you said the wrong thing

From the outside, this can look like someone is coping well socially.
Inside, it’s a completely different experience.

The Cost of Masking

Camouflaging takes an enormous amount of mental and emotional energy.
It requires constant monitoring of your body language, your words, your reactions, and how others are responding to you.
Over time, that level of vigilance can lead to:

💥️emotional distress
💥meltdowns
💥️burnout
💥difficulty coping
💥low self-worth
💥feeling disconnected from your authentic self

Often the effects are most visible at home, once the person finally reaches a space where they can drop the mask.

Although masking may appear to help someone navigate social situations, the emotional cost is significant.

It is exhausting work.

The Mental Health Impact

Because masking demands so much effort, it’s very common for autistic people to experience additional mental health challenges such as anxiety or depression.

When someone spends years hiding parts of themselves just to fit societal expectations, the pressure builds. Over time that emotional strain can take a serious toll.

Understanding masking is therefore incredibly important.

Recognising it allows us to offer support, reduce unnecessary pressure, and create environments where people don’t feel they have to constantly camouflage who they really are.

Because no one should have to exhaust themselves just to be accepted.

💜

10/03/2026

!!!! 💜🫶🏼 !!!

🚨 Little Podcast Update! 🚨

In true neurospicy fashion… what started as “let’s record a podcast” has somehow turned into “let’s rent another space and build an entire studio specifically for the podcast.” 😅

So if you’re wondering why things have gone a little quiet behind the scenes this week — that’s why.

Since announcing Not Being Funny, But…, so many brave, thoughtful and incredible women have reached out wanting to share their stories. And honestly, that stopped me in my tracks for a moment. Because if people are willing to show that level of honesty and vulnerability with me — and with the world — then the least I can do is give them a space that feels comfortable, private, safe and professional to do it.

Somewhere that feels calm.
Somewhere that feels respected.
Somewhere that feels a little bit special.

So today we officially start creating the podcast studio.

A warm, beautiful space where real conversations can happen.

If all goes to plan (and let’s be honest… it’s me, so there may be a few chaotic moments along the way) we’re hoping everything will be ready by Monday 23rd March, when we’ll be filming our very first guest episode.

To all the women who have already reached out — thank you. Your courage is the entire reason this podcast exists.

More updates coming soon…

And trust me — it’s going to be worth the wait. 🖤🩷

03/03/2026

46 women in one week 🫶🏼💜

03/03/2026

So many women were labelled “gifted.” “High functioning.” “Just anxious.”

All the while quietly living with undiagnosed ADHD.

When you’re intelligent and capable, your struggle gets missed. You found ways to compensate. You worked twice as hard. You masked. You ran on adrenaline, last-minute pressure, and perfectionism. From the outside, you looked impressive.
Inside? You were shattered.

Then perimenopause arrives and flips the table.
Hormones shift. Oestrogen drops. And the coping strategies that were barely holding everything together start to unravel. Focus slips. Memory feels unreliable.

Emotions feel closer to the surface. The systems you built stop working — and it feels like your own brain has turned on you.
And the hardest part?
People say, “But you’ve always managed.”

They didn’t see the cost of that managing.

They didn’t see the burnout.
The constant mental noise.
The invisible effort it took just to appear steady.

ADHD didn’t suddenly show up. It was always there. Hormonal changes just removed the buffer that helped you overcompensate.

What looks like falling apart is often your nervous system saying, “I can’t carry this alone anymore.”

You were never lazy.

You were surviving without the right support.

And when the scaffolding drops, of course you feel it.

💜

27/02/2026

Today I received a message from someone who has known me my whole life.

Not the “business” version of me.
Not the therapist.
Not the woman with a microphone.

The little girl version.

She had listened to the podcast Not Being Funny, But. She said parts of it resonated. That she could see things differently now. That she was proud of me.

And I sat and cried for fifteen minutes.

Not because I needed praise.
But because there is something profoundly powerful about being seen across time.

About someone who watched you growing up saying,
“I understand you more clearly now.”

For so many of us — especially neurodivergent women — childhood was about adapting. Performing. Being bright. Being capable. Being “a joy.” Making sure we were seen in the right way.

Sometimes pushing ourselves forward just to stay afloat.

To have someone from that chapter of my life reflect back compassion and understanding felt like a quiet piece of healing.

It reminded me why I shared my story.

Not for attention.
Not for applause.

But because when we speak honestly, we give people language. And sometimes that language travels backwards as well as forwards.

Today, a younger version of me felt gently understood.

And that meant more than I can explain.

🖤🩷

If you’ve ever thought about sharing your story… this is your invitation.

I would be honoured to hold the space for you to speak about your lived experience — honestly, safely, and in your own words.

This is exactly why I created this podcast.

To give women space.
Language.
Permission.

Because when we speak openly, something shifts.

And sometimes that shift reaches further than we could ever imagine.

If you feel ready, reach out.

💜

https://www.shethinksdifferent.co.uk/not-being-funny-but

25/02/2026

There’s something quietly terrifying about saying it out loud.

“I’m neurodivergent.”

Not in a clinical room.
Not whispered to someone safe.
But publicly. Openly. Without cushioning it.

For a long time, I didn’t have those words. I just had years of trying harder. Masking better. Explaining less. Apologising more.

Too sensitive.
Too intense.
Too emotional.
Too much.
Or somehow… not enough.

When you finally understand your wiring, it’s like someone hands you the missing manual to your own brain. Things that used to feel like personal failures suddenly make sense.

The overwhelm. The burnout. The chaos. The depth. The way your nervous system reacts before your logic catches up.

But telling the world?
That’s another layer.
Because you’re not just sharing information.
You’re revealing the parts you spent years hiding.

You’re saying: “This is why I struggle.” “This is why I feel deeply.” “This is why I move differently.” “This is who I actually am.”

And there’s grief in that. Grief for the years you misunderstood yourself. Grief for the little girl who tried so hard to be easy. Grief for the adult who thought she was broken.

But there’s also freedom.

Freedom in not pretending.
Freedom in not performing normal.
Freedom in not shrinking to make other people comfortable.

When you finally say it — really say it — something shifts.

You stop defending your differences.
You start honouring them.

And yes, it’s vulnerable. Your brain will whisper: “What if they judge you?” “What if they think you’re making excuses?” “What if this changes how they see you?”

But the louder truth becomes: “If they leave because I’m honest, they were never safe for me anyway.”

Telling the world you’re neurodivergent isn’t about attention.
It’s about alignment.
It’s about living in a way where your outside finally matches your inside.

And when that happens — even if your voice shakes — you realise something powerful:

You were never too much.
You were never broken.
You were simply wired differently.
And owning that?

That’s not weakness.

That’s coming home to yourself.

💜

24/02/2026

Shout out to my newest followers! Excited to have you here!

Naomi Falcon, Raychelle Louise Mooney, Jeanette Mackay, Ste Walls, Lane Kendo, Tricia Louise, Michelle Duke, Josie Marie Grant

💜