">
NeuroDivergence and Backpacking: How the Trail Brought Me Back to Myself
The Diagnosis that Changed Everything
When I was diagnosed with ADHD at age 31, I was able to look at my life through a completely different lens. Growing up, I always felt a little different from everyone else, but couldn’t figure out why. I had not talked to anyone in my life about it, because I couldn’t even put it into words. It was confusing, because I was able to be myself around close friends and family, but acted very differently around everyone else.
Turns out, I am NeuroDivergent! The term ‘NeuroDivergent’ refers to individuals whose brains process information, think, and behave differently from what is considered Neurotypical. It includes people with Autism Spectrum Disorder, ADHD, and Tourettes, among other diagnoses. When you put two NeuroDivergent people together, they are able to communicate just as easily as two Neurotypical people. We understand how each others’ brains work, which is why we tend to flock together unknowingly. I am also grateful for my Neurotypical friends, who have always loved and accepted me for who I am.
Until my diagnosis, I had a lot of stories in my head about myself due to societal expectations. I thought that because I had difficulty keeping up with life tasks that seemed easy for others, I was just lazy. I didn’t know that other people didn’t have to fight with their own brain to do tasks required to function in daily life (feeding yourself, doing the dishes, laundry, etc.). NeuroDivergent people have executive dysfunction, which causes difficulty with task initiation, planning, and organization. I may look ‘fine’ to people on the outside, but they don’t see the internal struggle that impacts every aspect of my life.
Masking to Fit in
After my diagnosis, I learned the term ‘masking’. It is something many NeuroDivergent people, especially undiagnosed women and people in marginalized communities, tend to do to hide their struggles. As children, we can’t focus in class, but don’t want to stand out by asking for repetition or help. We need movement in order to focus, but are taught from a very young age that we need to sit still. We work twice as hard to get good grades to prove we are “normal” and fit in.
Often, NeuroDivergent people develop anxiety to get through their school work – the fear of standing out by falling behind is what drives us. We try our best to follow Neurotypical social rules, because we are often perceived as ‘weird’ or ‘rude’ for the way we naturally communicate. We people-please, are perfectionists, and become chameleons to mimic people who we perceive as ‘normal’. Then, all of a sudden, we’re in our 20s and realize we have no idea who we are anymore.
Accepting my Weird, NeuroDivergent Self
In order to heal, I had to come to terms with the fact that some people will never understand me, no matter how much I try to explain myself. I let go of needing everyone to like me. I stopped worrying about people thinking I’m “cringe”, “too much”, “rude”, “sensitive”, or “annoying”. I learned that the only way to be happy in this life is to be your authentic self. The people who stay are truly your people.
Being NeuroDivergent makes me who I am. I am creative, spontaneous, adventurous, and brave. My life is unconventional because that’s what works for my brain. I wouldn’t change it for the world!
Finding my Community on the Trail
Like I talked about in a previous post, I fell in love with thru-hiking because of the community. Ever since my diagnosis, I have had a theory that the majority of the trail community is NeuroDivergent. NeuroDivergent people are drawn to the trail for endless reasons. We get constant excitement from the changing environment, but still have a set routine. We are moving all day long. Hiking calms our nervous system, and our brain can finally shut off and allow us to be fully present.
When I’m on trail, I feel automatically understood by people I’ve only just met. We can have deep conversations immediately as if we are old friends. These chats can go any direction from embarrassing poop stories to discussing the wonders of the universe. I am fully my weird self on trail — masking doesn’t even cross my mind. I feel comfortable stimming (singing, using different accents, making noises, singing, snapping, etc.) because a ton of other people are doing that too! Of course, the trail fashion is also a big part of it. I love wearing bright colors (hello, crazy print shirts and shiny visors!). I usually wear men’s shirts on trail because they are comfier, and let’s be honest, they’re cooler too.
Long-distance hiking is a complete 180 from my experience in the “real world”. Wearing a mask all the time is exhausting. I feel very fortunate that I found a hobby with such a great community that helped me feel comfortable being me.
Building an off-Trail Life that Works for my Brain
The trail community is a huge part of what helped me embrace my differences. It is a nice experience to feel like I am in the majority for once. I think for me, that’s the hardest part of leaving the trail. The post-trail blues hit extra hard when I think about having to ‘fit in’ again. The sensory overload of society increases my anxiety as well. However, I’m trying to re-structure my life so that I can be true to who I am. I don’t do well with a conventional job that involves being trapped in a building for 8 hours/day 5 days a week.
In order to thrive, I need tons of mental breaks, movement, creative outlets, and autonomy to work on what I am inspired to work on at that moment. In the near future, I plan to be able to have this flexibility and freedom. I also plan to continue to take long stretches of time off for long-distance hikes.
I’ve been working on unmasking in public places. I use fidgets, make random noises, use my natural communication style, etc., despite any weird looks I may get. When I feel sensory overload coming on, I accommodate my needs by wearing ear plugs or taking a break in a quiet place. Teaching my friends, family, and co-workers about ADHD and the supports I need has really helped.
NeuroDivergents and Neurotypicals Unite!
Neurodiversity is vital for making the world a better place. It requires NeuroDivergent and Neurotypical people working together to better understand each other. We all bring different strengths and perspectives to the table. The reason I was drawn to the field of Speech Language Pathology (without realizing it) was that I knew what it was like to feel different. I’ve always wanted to help kids with disabilities feel supported and accepted. I have the ability to empathize and form strong connections with my NeuroDivergent students. Over the years, I have become a fierce advocate for kids with disabilities. My goal is to spread the message of Neurodiversity as far and wide as possible. Everyone deserves to feel confident in who they are, and everyone deserves a voice.
It is my belief that the more NeuroDivergent people openly talk about their experiences and unmask, the more understanding and acceptance will spread. This is why I want to share my story here, in this lovely hiking community. I believe Neurodiversity is a beautiful thing. We can build a better world when we all understand and embrace each others’ differences on and off the trail.
This website contains affiliate links, which means The Trek may receive a percentage of any product or service you purchase using the links in the articles or advertisements. The buyer pays the same price as they would otherwise, and your purchase helps to support The Trek's ongoing goal to serve you quality backpacking advice and information. Thanks for your support!
To learn more, please visit the About This Site page.
Comments 8
Functional autistic here… being neurodivergent DOES bring it’s own challenges when long distance backpacking…
Hi there! Fellow ND here. If you don’t mind sharing, what are the biggest challenges for you? Do you have tips on how to best navigate them?
I have some sensory preferences that make long distance hiking challenging as well. Having ADHD means I’m not great at noticing my body’s signals when it needs something (e.g., rest, food, drink, releasing bodily fluids, etc.) until the last second when the need is dire. I’m working on setting timers for myself since I don’t feel like I can rely on my brain to pick up those cues. Feeling and smelling sweaty (which are unavoidable with long distance hikes) gets me super dysregulated when I’m not actively walking. I haven’t figured this one out yet.
The difficulty with food is that i don’t feel hungry on trail, which means my blood sugar levels drop and i go hypoglycemic. I try to eat but feel nauseous when I do.
The other thing is feeling very uneasy in non familiar settings. It is fine when i hike as it is very distracting and rewarding but i have a hard time stopping for the night, and not to have stimulus for hours on end. Trying to sleep in unfamiliar places is very difficult and triggering.
What i do then is trying to overhike during the next day, which triggers my chronic pain. I’m still trying to balance the whole thing, a constant battle. I hope that helps,
Fellow ADHDer here, diagnosed this year at age 34. I can relate to so much of what you said here. I love how small talk is less of a necessity on trail and you can get right into the deep and the weird convos with people you’ve just met. Definitely spend a lot of time either being anxious about coming up with small talk or zoning out during it in the real world haha. Anyway, thanks for writing this it was a great read!
Neurodiversity is still underrepresented in the outdoor and thru-hiking world. Thank you for advocating! We exist. Quietly. Weirdly. Passionately. And I’ve met a bunch of others out on my thru-hikes. Walking thousands of miles – not to escape the world, but to feel more at home in it.
I’m autistic and nature gives me what society often doesn’t: Peace without isolation. Stimulation without overwhelm. Movement without noise. And a place where I don’t need to be fixed.
Ahhh! I love how you’re using your platform to talk about this! Visibility is so so so important, and the best way to find community is through authenticity!
I also love the way my brain gets quiet when I’m exhausted from physical exertion. Social constructs don’t exist in places where you’re bathed in sweat, cramping everywhere, and your calves are covered in mud! The feeling of liberation is fantastic.
Thank you for opening up this conversation!
AuDHD here, late diagnosed and still learning. I found it so much easier to unmask on trail than off, and found that spending all day and night in nature helped my brain work better. But first I had to walk off years of being misunderstood and overwhelmed. My advice is less about trail itself and more about afterward: you will get very used to this motion, adventure, and ultimately thus level of control over yourself and your life. It’s easy to think that learning to abide the challenges of trail will make you better at handling off-trail situations that used to overwhelm, and I found that partially true. But the situations that were overwhelming in the past because everyone else was communicating differently to how I communicate? Still hard.
Be patient with yourselves, friends. We are meant to be exactly who we are.
Thank you for your post. I’m 59 and still trying to figure myself out, but what I do know I that when I’m the only human on a trail, or campsite, or rest spot, then I’m not lesser or greater than others. I’m sufficient because I’m alone. Plus if aliens visit then they’ll think all humans are like me, bonus😄