Let’s Work Together
Neurodivergence and Suicide: The Pattern I Can’t Ignore, by Jane McNeice
- Posted on 30 January 2024
A question for anyone bereaved by suicide: have you ever considered whether you, the person you lost, or both of you might be neurodivergent?
I’m referring to neurodivergence in its broadest sense, including Autism, ADHD, dyslexia, dyspraxia, developmental language disorder, dyscalculia and other neurological differences.
I ask because, as an autistic person whose brain naturally spots patterns, I keep noticing something I can no longer easily dismiss.
Over years of working in mental health, suicide prevention and bereavement-related spaces, I have observed what appears to be a remarkably high prevalence of neurodivergent traits among people bereaved by suicide. I hear stories of lifelong struggles with mental and physical health, cycles of burnout, experiences of bullying, abuse, exclusion, financial hardship, addiction, chronic illness and a persistent feeling of not fitting into the world around them. Many have dedicated themselves to meaningful causes, often emerging from their own experiences of profound suffering and loss.
Most are highly capable people. Many are successful, respected, intelligent and driven. Yet those characteristics are often exactly why neither they nor those around them have ever considered the possibility they might be neurodivergent.
Success and suffering are not mutually exclusive.
I am not a clinician or diagnostician, and I recognise the risk of confirmation bias. What I am proposing is a hypothesis, not a conclusion.
The pattern I observe appears to rest on three well-established facts.
Autism and ADHD have significant hereditary components. Where neurodivergence exists in one family member, it is more likely to be present in others. If a person who dies by suicide is neurodivergent, there is a greater likelihood that close family members may also be neurodivergent, whether identified or not.
Research increasingly suggests that neurodivergent people tend to communicate, connect and build relationships more easily with other neurodivergent people. Friendships, partnerships and social networks frequently contain a higher concentration of neurodivergence than would be expected by chance alone.
Evidence consistently shows elevated rates of suicidal thoughts, suicide attempts and suicide deaths among autistic and ADHD populations compared with neurotypical peers.
We also know that many neurodivergent people remain unidentified, particularly women, older adults and those who mask their differences. This means the true prevalence may be considerably higher than current figures suggest.
Taken together, these three factors raise an important question:
Could neurodivergence be far more common in both suicide and suicide bereavement than we currently recognise?
One factor repeatedly overlooked in conversations about suicide is the impact of unidentified neurodivergence.
Many late-diagnosed autistic and ADHD adults describe decades of feeling different, broken, defective or fundamentally out of place without understanding why. They often accumulate misdiagnoses, inappropriate treatments, damaged self-esteem and chronic stress before finally discovering their neurological differences.
Research consistently shows that earlier identification of neurodivergence is associated with better mental health outcomes.
Put simply, understanding ourselves matters.
If undiagnosed neurodivergence contributes to mental distress, burnout, isolation and suicidality, then identification may not merely improve quality of life. For some people, it may be life-saving.
Much discussion focuses on neurodivergence itself as a risk factor, but perhaps a more important question is whether the risk comes from living as a neurodivergent person in a world largely designed for neurotypical people.
Neurodivergent people experience disproportionately high rates of bullying, exclusion, unemployment, underemployment, relationship difficulties, trauma, chronic illness and mental health problems.
When any organism struggles to survive within its environment, we examine the environment as well as the organism.
Why should neurodivergent people be any different?
Perhaps the elevated suicide risk associated with neurodivergence tells us less about neurodivergent brains and more about the conditions in which those brains are expected to function.
If neurodivergence is more prevalent in suicide than current systems recognise, important questions follow.
Are existing suicide interventions effective for autistic and ADHD individuals?
Have they been adequately tested with neurodivergent populations?
Are we asking the right questions during suicide assessments?
Recent research suggests, for example, that some autistic people may experience suicidality differently from non-autistic people. Traditional assumptions around planning, intent and risk may not always apply in the same way.
If that is true, then adapting interventions for neurodivergent people is not optional. It becomes essential.
As an autistic person who has lived with suicidal thoughts for much of my life, the single most effective intervention I have ever received was discovering that I am autistic.
Learning I was autistic did not solve every difficulty overnight. It did, however, replace decades of self-blame with understanding. It helped me recognise that I was not broken. I simply had a different neurological operating system.
Many late-diagnosed neurodivergent people tell similar stories.
That experience leaves me wondering how many people have suffered, and how many may have died, without ever understanding why they felt so different.
We cannot change the past for those already lost to suicide.
But we can ask better questions.
I am not claiming that all people who die by suicide are neurodivergent. Nor am I suggesting that neurodivergence alone causes suicide.
What I am suggesting is that the relationship between neurodivergence, suicide and suicide bereavement may be significantly stronger than we currently acknowledge.
If that proves true, the implications for prevention, intervention and postvention are profound.
The pain caused by suicide is immeasurable. If there is even a possibility that understanding neurodivergence more fully could help save lives, then the question is worth asking.
Perhaps it is time we explored it far more seriously.
If you, or somone you know, need support to keep safe from suicide, services can be found at Hub of Hope.
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