Being Perceived: The Autistic & AuDHD Experience of Existing in a Neurotypical World

By Tim Aiello, MA, LPC, NCC, ADHD-CCSP, ASDCS

Clinical Director of Myndset Therapeutics

There’s a specific kind of peace I feel when I’m alone. It’s a soft hum in my nervous system—a gentle regulation that settles in when no one is watching, when there are no eyes scanning, no questions hovering, no energetic shifts to track. In those moments, I’m not “masking.” I’m just being—fully immersed in my internal world, safe and unobserved. That’s my baseline. That’s where I find ease.

But when someone else enters the space, everything changes. It’s as if I cross an invisible border into their world. I become perceived.

And being perceived, for someone who is Autistic or has AuDHD, isn’t just a neutral state of awareness. It’s a full-bodied experience—a physiological shift that pulls me out of my own regulation and drops me into a different nervous system dance.

The Polyvagal Shift of Being Seen

Polyvagal Theory (Porges, 2011) helps make sense of what I feel in these moments. When I’m alone, I’m in what Porges would call a ventral vagal state. This is the state of safety, social connection, and curiosity. My body feels calm, my thoughts are clear, and I can explore my world freely. But the minute another person steps in—even someone I love—my neuroception (the subconscious scanning for safety or threat) kicks into high gear.

Suddenly, my nervous system shifts. Depending on the context, the tone of voice, the history I have with this person, or even just the weight of being seen, I might dip into sympathetic activation—that fight-or-flight buzz—or drop into dorsal shutdown, a sense of fog, freeze, or detachment. All because I am no longer just being. I am now being watched.

Research shows that Autistic and AuDHD individuals often have heightened interoceptive sensitivity—meaning we pick up on subtle internal and external cues more intensely (Schauder & Bennetto, 2016). So it’s not just that someone is in the room. It’s the way their presence interacts with my system that causes a profound internal recalibration.

The Unspoken Pressure of Social Expectation

When I’m alone, there’s no performance. I don’t have to smile at the right time, respond with the correct tone, or track the many unwritten social rules that govern neurotypical spaces. But when I’m with others, especially in neurotypical-dominant environments, I feel the demand to translate—to shift my natural rhythms into something more palatable or understandable.

This constant demand to perform, to adjust, is exhausting. In autistic literature, this is often described as masking—the suppression or alteration of one’s authentic traits in order to blend in (Hull et al., 2017). And while masking might help us survive social interactions, it comes at a steep cost: fatigue, identity confusion, anxiety, and long-term burnout (Cage & Troxell-Whitman, 2019).

When I’m perceived, I’m not just seen—I’m interpreted. And because my natural expressions, movements, or silences might not match expected norms, I become hyper-aware of the discrepancy. I start to analyze myself through their imagined eyes, wondering: Do I look weird right now? Did I say too much? Am I too intense?

Living Between Worlds

This constant oscillation—between the safety of solitude and the effort of social performance—defines so much of the Autistic and AuDHD experience. We live between worlds: one internal, vibrant, and safe; the other external, performative, and unpredictable.

It’s not that we don’t want connection. In fact, many of us crave it deeply. But the terms of engagement matter. If the interaction requires us to leave behind our authenticity to gain acceptance, it becomes a neurobiological threat, not an opportunity for connection.

In PVT terms, co-regulation—the nervous system resonance that happens in safe, attuned relationships—is only possible when we are allowed to show up fully as ourselves. When another person’s presence doesn’t demand that we change who we are, our body can stay in that ventral space. But if their presence implies judgment, misattunement, or performance, our system will shift into defense.

The Cost of Perception

Here’s the part that’s hard to explain: just existing around others can feel like labor. Even if no one says anything. Even if they’re kind. Even if they love me.

Because being perceived means I am no longer just with myself—I’m managing how I exist in their nervous system too. It’s not a conscious decision. It’s a body-level awareness. It’s why I often need long stretches of solitude to recover. My nervous

system needs time to return to my world, to rest in the regulation of non-performance.

This isn't social anxiety. It’s not a fear of people. It’s a fundamental difference in how I experience being in the presence of others.

Making Space for Authentic Presence

What I’m learning—slowly, and with compassion—is that I deserve spaces where I can be both seen and safe. Where I can stay in my ventral state even while being witnessed. This requires intentional relationships, trauma-informed environments, and people who understand neurodivergence not as a deficit, but as a difference in nervous system wiring and communication style.

It’s why I teach my clients and students about the Polyvagal ladder. It gives language to what so many of us have felt but never had a name for. It helps us understand that our responses are not character flaws—they are adaptive nervous system reactions.

And it’s why I protect my solitude fiercely—not because I don’t want connection, but because I have to work so hard to maintain my regulation when I’m in the gaze of others.

Final Thoughts

Being perceived is not neutral for many of us. It is layered with history, sensory processing differences, nervous system shifts, and a deep longing to be accepted without condition.

So if you’re reading this and nodding along—feeling seen by these words instead of someone else’s eyes—I hope you know you’re not alone. There’s nothing wrong with the peace you feel in solitude. There’s wisdom in that regulation. And there’s nothing selfish about needing space to return to yourself after being pulled into someone else’s world.

We are not broken for needing safety. We are simply tuned differently. And that difference deserves respect, not correction.

References

• Cage, E., & Troxell-Whitman, Z. (2019). Understanding the Reasons, Contexts and Costs of Camouflaging for Autistic Adults. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 49(5), 1899–1911. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-018-03878-x

• Hull, L., Petrides, K. V., Allison, C., et al. (2017). “Putting on My Best Normal”: Social Camouflaging in Adults with Autism Spectrum Conditions. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 47, 2519–2534. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-017-3166-5

• Porges, S. W. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological foundations of emotions, attachment, communication, and self-regulation. W.W. Norton.

• Schauder, K. B., & Bennetto, L. (2016). Toward an Interdisciplinary Understanding of Sensory Dysfunction in Autism Spectrum Disorder: An Integration of the Neural and Symptom Literatures. Frontiers in Neuroscience, 10, 268. https://doi.org/10.3389/fnins.2016.00268