10 Ways Coaching and Therapy Sucks for AuDHD Adults, and What We Need to Do About It

These are the things churning in my mind. You, the AuDHD adult, you’ve felt this. This slow, soul-deep burn when the very systems meant to support us simply… don't. It’s not your fault, never your fault, that the frameworks aren’t built for your brain. It’s what needs to shift. We need to talk about it openly.

Here are the ten things that relentlessly derail AuDHD adults in their pursuit of help—in therapy, in coaching—and what we damn well need to start getting right:

1. That Void of Emotional Lexicon.

You’re sitting there, the therapist asks, "How does that make you feel?" And it's a blank. A chasm. Not because you don't feel, oh, you feel with an intensity that can buckle knees, but because identifying, externalizing, labeling it? That's a different system entirely for the alexithymic brain. And if the therapist then tells you that your felt experience isn't "real" because it doesn't align with their neurotypical categories? That just shatters trust. We need space for atypical emotional processing, for non-verbal cues, for the truth that feelings are felt, not always named.

2. The Deafening Silence of Unknowing.

Too many professionals just don't grasp autism or AuDHD. They dismiss, they pathologize, they insist on outdated, harmful views. You've walked into rooms desperate for understanding, only to be met with blank stares or textbook assumptions that actively invalidate your lived experience. We need therapists who live it, or who've genuinely immersed themselves in current, affirming neurodiversity understanding. They need to speak our language, not just academic jargon.

3. Communication That Just Doesn't Connect.

The silent stares waiting for you to fill the gap. The sudden interruptions when you're finally hitting your stride, after carefully constructing your thought. The long monologues from their side, packed with ambiguous language, or worse—small talk that bleeds your energy dry. It's not connecting. It pulls you out, sends your executive function reeling. Straight talk. Direct questions. Patience for processing. That’s what we need to actually move forward.

4. Harm from the "Tried and True" Path.

How many times have you been told to "challenge your thoughts" with CBT, only to feel alien, broken, or plain stupid when it just doesn't compute for your unique operating system? And ABA? That's not therapy; it's compliance training. It teaches masking, reinforces shame. We know it leads to burnout, to trauma. We need neuro-affirming modalities, approaches like somatic experiencing that work with the body's wisdom, not against our wiring.

5. The Albatross of "Homework."

"Here's your worksheet. Practice this coping skill every day." For a brain that battles task initiation and often thrives on hyperfocus that isn't a rigid chore? It’s not helpful. It's often another tally in the column of "failure." Another prompt for burnout, because executive function is already operating at a deficit under societal pressure. Tools need to be integrated, flexible, and tied to intrinsic motivation, not external mandates.

6. The Relentless Push to "Fix" What's Not Broken.

The underlying current of conventional therapy often defaults to "help them be less autistic," "mask better." You’re told your stims are disruptive, your special interests are obsessions to be controlled, your directness is rude. But masking—that meticulous performance of neurotypicality—is a direct line to anxiety, depression, burnout. No. Our traits are part of our neurotype. The fight is for acceptance, for accommodation, for the freedom to be.

7. The Disbelief that Shuts Down Everything.

When a therapist dismisses your sensory overwhelm as "just anxiety," or questions your internal logic, or plain doesn't believe your account of a social interaction... it slams shut the door to connection. You’re asking for support, you’re revealing your very self, and you’re met with skepticism instead of deep understanding. Trust is shattered. Progress stops dead. We need to be believed. Full stop.

8. The Absence of ACTUAL Strategies.

So we've talked about our feelings (or the lack of words for them). We’ve explored our past. Now what? You need concrete tools. Actionable steps. How do you regulate when the sensory world attacks? How do you unmask safely? How do you navigate a world that doesn't "get" you, without burning to dust? We need skill-building, tailored insights, practical frameworks for self-regulation and healthy interaction, not just abstract discussions.

9. The Tyranny of Rigid Structure.

Session starts. Session ends. Free-form conversation is terrifying or unproductive for a non-linear brain. Transitions are hard. The demand for eye contact or a specific verbal cadence is draining. Many of us would thrive with options: written check-ins, allowing tangents that lead to profound insight, more flexible session structures. We need a fluid approach that honors our thought process, not forces it into a neurotypical mold.

10. The Unbearable Barrier of Cost.

Even if you could find the mythical, affirming therapist—neurodivergent-informed, trauma-aware, genuinely helpful—the price tag is often prohibitive. Many don't take insurance. The out-of-pocket costs are astronomical, making genuine, sustained support a luxury most of us can't afford. It isolates, it further disenfranchises. We need accessible, affordable, quality neuro-affirming support if we're serious about collective well-being.

This isn't about blaming individuals. It's about confronting systemic failures. You've walked this path, feeling misunderstood, dismissed. You've burnt out trying to fit in, even in your attempts to get help. It’s time for the people who claim to guide us to meet us where we are. To adapt. To learn. To genuinely honor our neurotypes, not try to erase them.

The time for "one size fits all" is over. We demand tailored approaches. We demand belief. We demand the right to unmask and thrive, and the systems supporting us must reflect that. The world is changing. Are these systems ready to catch up? They better be. For you, for me, for all of us.