Living Between Extremes: The Chaotic Grace of the AuDHD Nervous System
Bridgette Hamstead
As an AuDHD person, I often feel like I am living inside a nervous system that speaks two different dialects at the same time. One is fast, electric, scattered, hungry for novelty, chasing stimulation like oxygen. The other is slow, rigid, intensely sensitive, and vigilant to every detail and shift in the environment. These are the neurological rhythms of ADHD and autism, and when they coexist in one body, they do not harmonize so much as they crash, collide, and oscillate in unpredictable cycles. There is a kind of beauty in this internal landscape, but it is not a peaceful beauty. It is volatile and contradictory, full of sharp turns, urgency, withdrawal, and sudden silence.
The AuDHD nervous system does not settle easily. It swings between opposites with very little warning. One moment I am flooded with ideas, speaking too fast, overflowing with creative momentum. The next I am paralyzed, shut down, unreachable even to myself. There are times I cannot start anything, and times I start everything all at once. My brain will demand action with the intensity of a fire alarm and then, just as suddenly, refuse to cooperate. This push and pull is not a lack of discipline or motivation. It is a reflection of how regulation works or often fails to work for those of us whose neurology combines the impulsivity and executive dysfunction of ADHD with the sensory sensitivity and emotional depth of autism.
Living with this dual wiring means that self-regulation is not just a skill to be learned. It is a constant negotiation between needs that compete with each other. ADHD urges me toward stimulation when my autistic sensory system is already at capacity. Autism craves structure and predictability while ADHD resists routine and longs for change. I live with a brain that wants both sameness and novelty, both solitude and connection, both rest and movement. The result is often exhaustion. Not just from overstimulation or overwhelm, but from the internal labor of managing contradictory impulses all day long.
This nervous system is often misunderstood, even within conversations about neurodivergence. People talk about overstimulation as a sensory issue, but in AuDHD bodies it is also a cognitive and emotional one. Our thoughts can become overstimulating. Our feelings can be too loud. Our plans, dreams, fears, and fixations can flood us in ways that shut down our ability to act. We are not just sensitive to light, sound, or texture. We are sensitive to pressure, urgency, and even our own internal narratives. We burn out quickly and often. And because we also carry the ADHD trait of emotional impulsivity, we sometimes overcommit in moments of clarity, only to collapse under the weight of it later.
One of the most painful aspects of this experience is how invisible it can be. We often appear functional, even impressive, in our moments of hyperfocus or high output. People see us when we are "on," but not when we are curled up in the dark, unable to speak, frozen by decision fatigue or sensory shutoff. We are praised for our energy, our creativity, our passion, while the toll it takes on our bodies is ignored. We are told we need to manage our time better, get more sleep, plan ahead, or just try harder. But this is not a problem of effort. It is a nervous system that does not obey time or logic. It has its own rhythm, and it does not always align with what the world demands.
True regulation for an AuDHD person does not look like balance in the traditional sense. It does not mean becoming calm or consistent. It means learning to anticipate the swings and build scaffolding around them. It means understanding that shutdown is not failure but a signal. It means letting go of the fantasy of becoming a "neurotypical version" of ourselves and instead designing a life that accepts our volatility without shame. That might include creating flexible structures, sensory-safe environments, or spaces where we can stim, rest, cry, or reset without needing to explain ourselves. It might mean accepting that some days we will do everything, and other days we will do nothing, and that neither day defines our worth.
There is grace in the chaos, but it is not easy to access. It comes only when we stop trying to fix ourselves and start listening to the wisdom of our bodies. The AuDHD nervous system is not broken. It is responsive, dynamic, and deeply alive. It notices what others miss. It moves quickly when needed, and slows down when protection is necessary. It is not inefficient, even when it looks like inertia. It is not dramatic, even when it feels like too much. It is trying to survive in a world that was not built for us.
Living between extremes is not a sign of failure or instability. It is the lived reality of navigating a world that rarely accommodates the complexity of an AuDHD nervous system. We are constantly adjusting, constantly working to meet opposing needs that pull us in different directions. This is not weakness. It is resilience born of necessity. To live in a body and mind that demand both stillness and movement, both order and spontaneity, both protection and expression, is to engage in a lifelong act of self-translation. What we need is not to be fixed or smoothed into predictability, but to be supported in our full and fluctuating truths. Regulation, for us, will never mean erasing the chaos. It means building a life that honors it.
Common Nervous System Contradictions in AuDHD Life:
Feeling urgent pressure to start a task while simultaneously feeling frozen and unable to begin
Craving novelty and change while also needing strict routine and predictability to feel safe
Becoming overstimulated by noise, light, or movement while also seeking stimulation to stay engaged
Wanting deep social connection but becoming emotionally and sensorily drained by interaction
Experiencing bursts of hyperfocus that lead to creative output followed by sudden exhaustion or collapse
Needing rest but being unable to access it due to internal restlessness or racing thoughts
Struggling to slow down even when exhausted, and struggling to move even when rested
Alternating between intense motivation and complete inertia, often without a clear trigger
Overcommitting during high-energy states and then withdrawing in shame during burnout
Feeling emotionally flooded by small triggers while appearing calm or detached to others
Living with both autism and ADHD means navigating a nervous system that rarely rests in one state for long. It is a body that swings between urgency and paralysis, between wanting to do everything and being unable to move. This experience is not just tiring. It is often invisible to others and misunderstood even by those closest to us. People see the moments of energy and focus and assume consistency, without realizing that those moments are followed by long, quiet recoveries that feel like shutting down from the inside out.
The AuDHD experience is filled with contradictions. We crave routine and predictability, yet get bored easily. We long for connection, but social interaction can drain us to the point of collapse. Our sensory systems are overstimulated and underfed at the same time. This is not about being difficult or dramatic. It is about living in a body that is doing its best to regulate itself in a world that was not built with us in mind.
We are not inconsistent by choice. We are adapting constantly. Our nervous systems are speaking in two languages at once, and we are learning to listen. What we need is not to be corrected or coached into compliance. What we need is space, support, and understanding for the ways we move through life—messy, rhythmic, nonlinear, and entirely real.