Alright, buckle up, friends, because we’re about to dive into the whirlwind world of AuDHD—aka the magical, chaotic cocktail of autism and ADHD—and all the fun, messy, and occasionally tear-streaked detours it can take us on. Picture this: you’re juggling fire while riding a unicycle, and someone decides to throw in a Rubik’s cube for good measure. That’s kind of what it feels like on the daily. And today, we’re starting with a term that sounds suspiciously like a haircut gone rogue: neurotrimming. Stay with me—it’s not about giving your brain a little snip-snip, though wouldn’t that be something?

Neurotrimming, in its simplest, least fancy-talk form, is the art of cutting out neurotypical nonsense that doesn’t serve you. You know, all that jazz about behaving a certain way, speaking in tones acceptable in polite society, and generally pretending to be a human-shaped robot with zero quirks. It’s like trying to squeeze into a pair of jeans two sizes too small. Sure, you *can* do it, but at what cost? Your dignity? Your sanity? Your ability to breathe comfortably? Neurotrimming is the moment you look at those metaphorical jeans and say, “Nah, I’m good in my stretchy sweatpants, thanks.”

When I first caught wind of neurotrimming, my brain did that delightful ADHD thing where it hyperfocused on the concept for a solid 72 hours. I was Googling, reading articles, and shouting, “This makes so much sense!” to absolutely no one because, yes, I was alone and absolutely vibing. The idea is pretty freeing: instead of bending yourself into neurotypical shapes just to fit in, you start snipping away at the expectations and behaviours that feel unnatural or downright exhausting. You stop masking so much. You let your weirdness shine. And let me tell you, my weirdness? It shines brighter than a disco ball at a ‘70s rave.

But here’s the kicker: neurotrimming isn’t all rainbows and celebratory confetti. Oh, no. Because for a lot of us AuDHD folk, we’ve spent years—decades, even—perfecting the art of blending in. Masking becomes second nature, like breathing or mindlessly scrolling through TikTok at 3 a.m. So when you start peeling back those layers, you can end up feeling naked, vulnerable, and vaguely like you’re walking into a “wear your quirks to work” day without the memo. It’s liberating, sure, but also terrifying. And messy. Did I mention messy? Because it is.

Now, let’s talk about why we mask in the first place. Spoiler alert: it’s survival. If you’ve ever been side-eyed in a meeting for stimming, accidentally info-dumped about 14th-century plague remedies during a casual lunch chat, or been told, “You’re just too much,” you’ll get it. We mask to fit in, to avoid judgment, to keep the peace in a world that wasn’t exactly designed with us in mind. It’s like trying to play Monopoly but all the rules are in Klingon, and every time you ask for clarification, someone tells you to “just try harder.” Exhausting, right?

Which brings me to our next chaotic stop on this AuDHD rollercoaster: burnout. Ugh, burnout. The uninvited houseguest who shows up, eats all your snacks, and leaves you lying on the couch wondering if you’ll ever muster the energy to move again. And yes, there’s a direct pipeline between masking, neurotrimming, and burnout. It’s like a cruel little triangle that traps you in its corners, and no amount of chocolate or hyperfixation on new hobbies seems to break the cycle.

You see, burnout sneaks up on you. One day, you’re firing on all cylinders, juggling your AuDHD quirks like a pro, and the next, you’re a human puddle who can’t figure out how to make toast without feeling overwhelmed. For me, it usually starts with a subtle shift, and I don’t spot it till I am looking back. Add a missed phone call here, and another there, a forgotten appointment there, a high AQI day tossed in and that crying that happens over spilled milk is more and more likely. Then, bam! I’m crying over a mismatched pair of socks because life feels *too much*. And spoiler alert: it’s not the socks. It’s the accumulation of masking, of trying to live up to neurotypical standards, of trimming away the wrong things instead of the nonsense or nothing that I should’ve been trimming all along.

Here’s where the lightbulb moment comes in. When I realized that neurotrimming could help prevent burnout, it felt like discovering the cheat code to a particularly brutal video game. The more I peeled back the mask and let myself just *be*, the less energy I wasted pretending to be someone I’m not. Sure, it meant some awkward moments— such as forgetting I can be to much and get carried away making someone laugh with memes because I am not constantly on high alert for messing up. But it also meant fewer days spent in that soul-sucking burnout zone where even brushing my teeth felt like climbing Everest. It is a new aspect to things with me and one I embrace more each day.

But let’s not kid ourselves—unmasking and embracing the chaos isn’t always easy. Sometimes, it feels like trading one kind of exhaustion for another. There’s the exhaustion of masking, yes, but there’s also the exhaustion of explaining yourself to people who just don’t get it. Like when someone asks, “Why don’t you just focus?” and you have to resist the urge to yeet them into the sun because if it were that simple, *don’t you think I would’ve done it by now?* Sigh.

And then there’s the guilt. This isn’t just a perceived thing in many cases I know of with issues here, it is how those around us are with what is said from very early, not the best thing for self esteem with how different is treated by many. Because as much as neurotrimming is about embracing your weird, wonderful self, there’s a tiny voice in the back of your head whispering, “What if they don’t like the real you?” It’s a journey, my friends. A messy, chaotic, laugh-so-you-don’t-cry kind of journey.

But here’s the thing: even with the chaos, the awkward stimming in public, the occasional burnout days, and the light sprinkling of existential dread, I wouldn’t trade my AuDHD brain for anything. It’s a uniquely wired powerhouse that lets me hyperfocus on things I love, think outside the box (and sometimes outside the room), or more often I just blow the box up and keep going, and I embrace a level of creativity that’s downright magical. Plus some interesting rabbit holes have come of this chaos. Neurotrimming has taught me that it’s okay to drop the act. It’s okay to be myself, chaos and all, even if it means occasionally crying over socks. How did it teach me this? Well it explained yet another why because I need to understand things, it is how I am.

So, if you’re reading this and nodding along, wondering if it’s time to trim some neurotypical nonsense from your life, let me be your sign. Take the scissors, snip away the societal expectations that don’t fit, and let your weirdness shine. And if you’re stuck in burnout land, know that it’s okay to rest, recharge, and eat an absurd amount of snacks while watching comfort movies. You’ve got this. We’ve got this. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go stare at a book for a bit, often rereading a paragraph a few times because all this writing has my brain buzzing like a caffeinated hummingbird.