Now some people would assume being ND helps in the creative process. Well. From my own experience it is rather a nuisance. You are rarely happy with what you have created. And you constantly see things to improve.

Let’s just be honest, being a neurodivergent creative isn’t a superpower. It’s more like a really quirky sidekick with a habit of knocking over the furniture and loudly pointing out your every flaw. Here’s a look at the less-than-glamorous, often-hilarious reality.

Picture a neurotypical artist. They finish a piece, put a neat bow on it, and call it a day. Good for them. Now, picture you. You’re standing there, staring at your “finished” work, while your brain’s internal critique committee shouts, “That line is off! The color is all wrong! You should have used a different font!” This isn’t a quest for perfection; it’s a never-ending cycle of self-improvement where the only constant is your dissatisfaction. It’s like having a creative GPS that only gives you directions to the nearest “fix it” shop, even after you’ve already parked.

Then comes – hyperfocus – the supposed secret weapon of the ND creator. It’s lauded as the key to getting so much done, but really, it’s just a great way to spend 12 hours on a single, insignificant detail. You’ll emerge from your creative cave, blinking at the sunlight, having forgotten to eat or sleep, but you’ll have created the most meticulously detailed texture on a background character’s shirt. You’ve perfected one puzzle piece while the rest of the jigsaw box is on fire. It’s a superpower that lets you win the battle while losing the entire war.

The creative studio is meant to be a sanctuary, a place of peace. But nope, it’s a sensory minefield. The buzz of the fluorescent light is a siren, the faint hum of the air conditioner is a symphony of noise, and the weird smell of paint… it’s all too much. While a neurotypical artist is enjoying their creative flow, you’re trying to tune out the internal and external clamor. Your creativity isn’t a peaceful stream; it’s a frantic paddle against a chaotic current.

ND brains are idea factories, constantly churning out brilliant concepts. The problem is, they’re also terrible at quality control. They’ll start a painting, get a brilliant idea for a novel, then get a brilliant idea for a new game. Suddenly, the painting is half-finished, the novel is a few paragraphs long, and the game is just a concept on a napkin. The hard drives are graveyards of half-finished projects.

The neurodiverse-as-superpower narrative is a fun thought, but let’s look at the facts. A study in the Journal of Attention Disorders showed that the “creative benefits” of ADHD often come with the baggage of inconsistency and difficulty with follow-through. That’s not a superpower; that’s a brilliant sprint followed by a face-plant. Similarly, research in Autism in Adulthood highlighted that while autistic individuals have unique ways of thinking, many struggle with the organizational tasks necessary to turn those ideas into a final product. It seems our superpowers are more like… charmingly clumsy side effects.

Let’s be real: being a creative with a neurodiverse brain is less about having a secret weapon and more about navigating a labyrinth with a blindfold on and a map written in a language you can’t read. It’s filled with moments of intense inspiration followed by crippling self-doubt. So, while the world applauds our “unique perspective,” they’re over here just wishing we could finish something and maybe, just maybe, be happy with it.

The neurodiverse creative journey isn’t a magical, superpower-fueled ride to greatness. It’s a chaotic, often frustrating, and sometimes hilarious trek through a minefield of distractions, endless improvements, and a graveyard of half-finished projects. It’s not a superpower; it’s a quirk that makes it impossible to ever be truly satisfied with your own work. And frankly, who has time for that?