Did you know that your body responds to your thoughts in much the same way as it does to real-life events? If you’ve ever woken up from a vivid dream feeling your heart racing or your muscles tense, you’ve experienced this firsthand. For those of us who are neurodivergent, the connection between thoughts and stress responses can be particularly strong—and sometimes overwhelming.

As someone diagnosed as neurodivergent in adulthood, I’ve spent years unknowingly battling stress responses triggered not by actual threats but by the cascade of thoughts swirling in my brain. Only recently did I begin to recognize and address how my mind amplifies everyday stresses, turning small concerns into all-encompassing emergencies. This realization changed how I approach stress and has empowered me to live more authentically and calmly. I want to share how I’ve learned to manage my stress—and how you can too.

Stress Starts in the Mind

Most of the stress we experience originates from our thoughts, not from actual dangers. Our physiological stress responses—like a racing heart, sweaty palms, or tense muscles—stem from our brain’s fight-flight-freeze mechanism. This response is designed to protect us from immediate threats to survival, like a charging predator.

However, for many of us, especially those living in the developed world, daily life rarely involves such physical threats. Yet, we still experience intense stress reactions. Why? Because our brains don’t distinguish between a real danger and a perceived one. Thoughts alone can trigger the same physiological responses as a life-threatening event.

For neurodivergent individuals, these stress responses may feel even more heightened. Our minds are often wired for deeper analysis, heightened awareness, or faster connections, which means our thoughts can spiral quickly into anxiety or overwhelm. Recognizing this pattern is the first step toward breaking it.

An Everyday Example of Thought-Induced Stress

Imagine this scenario: You’re at work, sitting in a meeting. Your boss is going around the room asking for updates on projects. Suddenly, you remember that you forgot to finish a crucial task. Your thoughts kick into overdrive:

• What if my boss asks me about it?
• Did I forget anything else?
• What am I going to say?
• How embarrassed will I feel when everyone knows I messed up?

Before you know it, your body reacts: your heart races, your stomach churns, and your muscles tense. Sound familiar?

The irony is, nothing has actually happened yet. Your boss hasn’t even asked you a question. It’s your thoughts about what might happen that have triggered this cascade of stress. For those of us with neurodivergent brains, this process can be particularly intense. We’re often great at imagining scenarios and analyzing outcomes, which can sometimes work against us when it leads to overthinking and anxiety.

Why Does This Happen?

Our brains are designed to anticipate and prepare for future events—it’s a survival mechanism. But when we live in a state of constant anticipation, our bodies pay the price. The stress responses that helped our ancestors escape predators now leave us exhausted, overwhelmed, and burnt out.

As a neurodivergent adult, I’ve found that my brain tends to amplify these responses. I used to think this was a flaw—that I just needed to “calm down” or “stop overthinking.” But I’ve learned that my brain isn’t broken; it’s doing exactly what it’s designed to do. What I needed wasn’t to “fix” myself but to develop tools to work with my mind instead of against it.

Hitting the Pause Button

The good news is, we can learn to pause these stress-inducing thought cycles. It takes practice, self-compassion, and strategies tailored to how our unique minds work. Here are three tools that have made a profound difference in my life:

1. Pay Attention to Your Thoughts

The first step is to become aware of your thought patterns. Set aside 5–10 minutes a few times a week to sit quietly and observe your mind. What are you thinking about? Are you planning, ruminating, or daydreaming?

When I started this practice, I noticed how much time I spent in “what if” scenarios—playing out every possible outcome of a situation. This awareness helped me realize that many of my stress responses were tied to thoughts about things that hadn’t even happened.

If you’re neurodivergent, this process might feel challenging at first. Our brains often process information rapidly, and it can feel overwhelming to slow down and observe. Be patient with yourself. The more you practice, the easier it becomes to notice your thoughts in real-time.

2. Practice Non-Judgment

This was the hardest part for me, and I suspect it may be for many of us. As neurodivergent individuals, we’ve often internalized messages that we’re “too much,” “too sensitive,” or “too different.” These judgments can creep into how we view our own thoughts.

When you catch yourself thinking, “I’m so stupid for forgetting that,” try to reframe it. Remind yourself that everyone makes mistakes. Speak to yourself the way you would to a friend: with kindness, patience, and encouragement.

For me, this practice has been transformative. It’s helped me see my brain not as a source of stress but as a unique, valuable part of who I am.

3. Focus on Your Breath

When your thoughts start to spiral, shift your focus to your breath. Notice the sensation of the air entering and leaving your body. This simple act can anchor you in the present moment and give your mind a much-needed pause.

Breathwork has been a game-changer for me. As someone who often feels “stuck” in my head, focusing on my breath helps me reconnect with my body and create space between my thoughts and reactions.

Embracing Our Unique Minds

As neurodivergent individuals, we often experience the world—and our own minds—differently from others. This isn’t a weakness; it’s a strength. Our ability to think deeply, analyze creatively, and feel intensely are gifts. But they can also make us more vulnerable to stress.

Learning to manage thought-induced stress doesn’t mean silencing your mind. It means creating a partnership with your thoughts, understanding their patterns, and developing tools to navigate them with compassion.

I’ve found that these practices—awareness, non-judgment, and breathwork—have helped me reclaim a sense of calm and control in my life. They’re not about “fixing” myself but about honoring my neurodivergent brain and giving it the care and support it needs.

Do you have strategies that help you manage stress as a neurodivergent person? I’d love to hear about them in the comments. Let’s continue this journey together, celebrating the strengths and challenges of our beautifully unique minds.