The Challenges Of Logging Off When You’re Neurodivergent
Logging Off Club (via Substack) - August 07, 2025
TW: Ableism, bullying, trauma and addiction
When real-world spaces are hard to enter and stay in, the digital world is a source of salvation. For many neurodivergent (ND) people like me, this is our lived reality. Social media helps ND people to socialise and build connections with like-minded, more understanding people on our terms. Yet, the benefits of technology can never truly replace real-life, in-person, human connection.
I realised this a few years ago. After primarily relying on the internet for most of my socialising throughout university and the onset of the pandemic, I yearned for in-person connection. Online friendships are great, and I’m grateful for meeting these people, the same goes for long-distance friends. However, the virtual nature of these connections wasn’t meeting my needs anymore. They lacked the depth of in-person connections, including platonic intimacy like touch, hugs and kisses.
But for ND people like me, navigating the offline world is extremely difficult. We often need accessible environments and direct communication. We’re more likely to struggle with things some neurotypicals see as “different”, like stimming and tics. We were often bullied and isolated growing up and lacked many offline neurotypical (NT) childhood experiences as a result (like playdates at our friends’ homes). Our offline connections were few and far between excluding family and professionals. However, these pale in comparison to adulthood. Being a neurodivergent adult means entering adulthood without the knowledge, abilities, or support network to build new, organic connections. Yet, society assumes we’ll already have them. This is further disabling and retraumatising.
Here are two examples I’ve personally experienced. The first are last-minute cancellations, which suck and are sometimes unavoidable. However, abandonment and trauma wounds tell you that people overpromise and underdeliver (reinforced by multiple past experiences), and reading a cancellation message is overwhelming and triggering. The actual reason doesn’t matter.
Then there are more covert, cultural rules. In the UK, there’s a cultural norm that talking about the idea of meeting up (while making no serious plans to meet up) maintains connection. If you violate this cultural norm, what usually happens is this. People will get confused when you’re asking to make serious plans, but will go along with it to save face. Then, after a while, they’ll “forget” to message back, hoping you get the hint and drop the subject. Yet, they’ll still meet other friends and post about it on social media, which seems contradictory.
These two situations are deeply stressful and traumatic, yet ripe for Big Tech to exploit. Like a hawk swooping to capture its prey, Big Tech’s dopamine-driven algorithms actively target neurodivergent people, trapping us in their online worlds and algorithms. Big Tech worsens the intense, negative feelings, with its outrage model tapping into despair and exacerbating our loneliness.
In this light, isolating and withdrawing is the natural response. Sensory overload and a lack of understanding from the offline world make this worse. Deep, regular, offline connections can feel like a fantasy you’ll never experience outside of fiction. That’s why I won't fault any ND person who’s unable to log off. Big Tech is predatory, calculated and dangerous. Under these circumstances, believing that logging off isn’t worth it and remaining trapped in the digital world is a rational response.
So, while things are pretty dire, there are positives. As society becomes more inclusive, more neurodivergent people are finding themselves, finding each other, and most critically, building community offline. As neurodivergent pals find each other and learn to unmask and affirm access needs, when possible, the world becomes a better place. Ditto when non-autistic people learn how best to support us. Ironically, the internet is often how neurodivergent adults get the information and support they need to do this. It's damning that modern society locks this essential knowledge and support behind technology.
Building deep, offline connections requires actively challenging cultural norms that oppose community building and misunderstandings, such as the UK-centric examples I mentioned above. Both ND and NT people need to do this. There already is some precedent, both within and outside ND communities. I’ve found cross-cultural exchanges, where English is the lingua franca rather than the native language, very helpful. This is because cross-cultural spaces support cross-cultural barriers the same way neurotypical people need to support neurodivergent people within their own cultures. Namely, direct, non-judgmental communication. Erasmus+ youth exchanges are one example. Ironically, the internet remains critical to finding these events and maintaining long-distance friendships.
As for me, when it comes to building deep, offline connections, I’m still extremely jaded about whether I’ll truly find them. Yet, as society reconnects offline, I’m optimistic that ND people will find and affirm their place in this brighter, more sustainable future.
© 2026 Milla Hawley. All rights reserved.