Let’s set the scene.

A neurodiverse couple sits across from you. One partner is fuming, speaking rapidly, cataloging a list of grievances.

The other is frozen, eyes down, seemingly unbothered—or worse, dissociating.

The therapist's untrained instinct? Coach the talker to slow down. Encourage the silent one to speak up. Try to “restore balance.”

But here’s the rub: you're not just dealing with two people who fight differently.

You're witnessing a neurological mismatch in perception, pacing, and processing—a conflict shaped by what Damian Milton (2012) called the Double Empathy Problem.

Let’s say you’re a seasoned couples therapist. You’ve got your EFT moves down, you’ve logged thousands of Gottman-style conflict interventions, and your shelves are sagging under the weight of Imago binders and co-regulation worksheets.

And then they walk in.

One partner is laser-focused on justice, logic, or cleaning the lint filter just so.

The other is overwhelmed, tearful, and convinced they’re being emotionally neglected.

They’ve tried to make sense of their dynamic, but all the usual scripts are breaking down. You quickly realize: this is not your typical couple.

Welcome to the world of neurodiverse couples counseling, where misattunements aren’t just communication problems—they’re neurological, sensory, and often invisible.

This is the guide for the therapist who feels competent… and suddenly, very perplexed.

By the time someone with ADHD turns 30, they’ve likely endured more performance reviews than promotions, more diagnoses than diplomas, and more motivational speeches than meaningful accommodations.

A major study published in the Journal of Psychiatric Research has now confirmed what many adults with ADHD already know: medication may help you get through a day, but it won’t get you through the structural realities of life.

And so we arrive, blinking and caffeinated, at the heartbreaking and quietly infuriating thesis of this Denmark-based longitudinal study: even with consistent medication adherence over a decade, adults with ADHD still face steep, systemic disadvantages in education, employment, and mental health.

In fact, those on medication may fare worse economically—because the people who stay on medication are often the ones with the most profound impairments to begin with.

Somewhere out there, a couple is toasting over tacos because “Today is the one-year anniversary of the first time we both pretended to enjoy kale.”

Welcome to the era of arbitrary-versaries—the chaotic-good, semi-ironic, deeply sincere relationship meme where couples celebrate weird, off-brand milestones like:

• “The day we both cried watching the same TikTok.”

• “First shared dental floss.”

• “Anniversary of our joint hatred of your mother’s gluten-free stuffing.”

I

t’s romantic. It’s ridiculous. It’s quietly radical.

Because in a world where everything is content and nothing feels sacred, these micro-milestones are a rebellion against the hyper-scripted, commodified rituals of love.

And, shockingly, they might actually be better for your relationship than the traditional anniversary dinner you booked on OpenTable and silently resented the entire time.

Why Go Non-Stimulant?

Let’s start here: stimulant medications like Adderall and Ritalin work. For many people with ADHD, they turn static into signal. Tasks get done. Interruptions decrease. That “blender-in-the-brain” feeling quiets down.

But they don’t work for everyone.

Roughly 25% of people with ADHD don’t respond well to stimulant medications (Faraone et al., 2021).

Others experience unpleasant side effects—insomnia, appetite loss, irritability—or worry about dependence or misuse.

Some have a personal or family history of substance use and want to avoid controlled substances entirely.

And for many women, neurodivergent adults, and people with co-occurring conditions (like anxiety or trauma), stimulant meds are either overkill or off-target.

Amlodipine for ADHD? The Pill That Nobody Invited to the Party

Imagine your medicine cabinet throwing a reunion, and a humble blood pressure pill crashes the event wearing a nametag that says, “Hi, I treat ADHD now.”

That’s essentially what just happened with amlodipine.

A new study in Neuropsychopharmacology suggests this calcium channel blocker—previously best known for preventing strokes in suburban dads—might also help quiet the minds of people with ADHD.

And it didn’t just show up uninvited. It brought behavioral data from rats, zebrafish, and humans—and asked, very politely, to be taken seriously.

We live in the age of curated perception. Instagram filters, clickbait headlines, “vibes.”

It’s all illusion, and we’re all falling for it.

So here’s the question: if you can train your brain to unsee an optical illusion—can you train it to unsee the culture that raised you to fall for it?

Science now says: sort of (PsyPost, 2024).

Let’s start with a bang—except, apparently, for some women with ADHD, the bang doesn’t always come.

A new study published in The Journal of Sex Research (Jensen-Fogt & Pedersen, 2024) offers compelling evidence that ADHD symptom subtypes—particularly inattentive traits—may be quietly undermining women’s orgasmic consistency during partnered sex.

This is not about libido, trauma, technique, or even partner compatibility.

It’s more about the brain’s tricky wiring when it comes to attention.

And it turns out that the wandering mind, a classic marker of inattentive ADHD, may be the real third wheel in the bedroom.

You’re sipping coffee, thinking about an old friend, and the phone rings—it's them.

You dream about a place you’ve never been and then end up there a year later. You feel someone watching you before you turn around—and you're right.

Coincidence? Imagination? Or something more baked into our wiring?

According to new research published in Psychology of Consciousness: Theory, Research, and Practice (Palsson, 2025), these so-called anomalous experiences—premonitions, déjà vu, out-of-body events—aren’t fringe occurrences.

They’re part of being human, especially for people with a curious trait: subconscious connectedness.

Imagine you’re living in a body wired like a pinball machine—flashing lights, relentless motion, reactive tilt sensors.

That’s ADHD for many adults: a combination of emotional speed, impulsivity, and executive dysfunction. Now add alcohol. For some, it’s used as a numbing agent, a social lubricant, or a momentary off-switch for a brain that never quite powers down.

But a new French study published in the Journal of Psychiatric Research (Luquiens et al., 2025) suggests that this combination—ADHD and alcohol—doesn’t merely fail to soothe. It amplifies suffering.

Alcohol, already notorious for wreaking havoc on mood and cognition, exacts an even steeper toll on quality of life for those with ADHD, particularly those stuck in patterns of emotional suppression and impulsive regulation.

Let’s explore why this interaction is especially toxic, what clinicians can learn from it, and how we might support neurodivergent clients in more adaptive emotion regulation.

What Happens When Autistic Adults Let ChatGPT Sit Inside Their Inner Monologue

Welcome to the Thought Correction Desk

It started innocently enough: a late-night spiral, a familiar intrusive loop, and a casual question typed into a chatbot:
"Why do I always mess things up?"

And lo, the AI responded—not with a snide “well, maybe you do,” but with the gentle cadence of a therapist who’s read Daring Greatly twice and has strong opinions about emotional resilience.

For many neurodivergent folks—especially those who are autistic—this emerging trend has a name: AI-assisted cognitive reappraisal, though most just call it talking to the bot when the brain gets loud.

What the Research Says (And Doesn’t Say)

The classic marriage proposal—public, spontaneous, dramatic—has long been presented as the pinnacle of romantic intimacy.

But for many neurodivergent couples, this model is alienating, overwhelming, and at times, even dysregulating.

The surprise proposal assumes a shared cultural script: one partner plans secretly, the other reacts visibly, and both are judged by how moving the footage turns out on Instagram.

But this ritual relies heavily on emotional spontaneity, sensory tolerance, and social fluency—areas where many neurodivergent partners approach differently.