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The Gift of Neurotypical Storytelling in "Real-Time"

Updated: Oct 8

There’s a particular kind of storytelling that neurotypical people excel at - and cling to with almost religious fervor: the play-by-play. A moment-by-moment retelling of even the most minor interaction, as if time itself were a sacred narrative structure and every event deserved its full theatrical arc.


Neuroqueer couple sit on a white van, laughing. They're in casual clothes, with a desert landscape in the background, creating a joyful mood.

If you’re neurodivergent, you’ve likely sat through one of these tales - listening patiently while someone reconstructs a routine encounter with a cashier, from parking the car to choosing the almond milk to what the person almost said but didn’t.


By the end, you’re no closer to understanding why the story was told… but you are more intimately familiar with the layout of aisle four.


Real-time storytelling: a neurotypical social ritual


For many neurotypical folks, telling a story in the exact order it happened is more than habit - it’s a form of emotional connection. Chronological storytelling isn’t just about relaying facts. It’s how they process the moment, relive the feelings, and bond with others.


The setting matters. The detours matter. The subplots? Absolutely essential.


Skipping ahead feels, to them, like skipping over them. They aren’t just telling you what happened - they’re letting you in on how it felt.


And yet, for many neurodivergent listeners, it’s… a lot.


Why this exhausts the neurodivergent brain


Many autistic and ADHD brains are designed for pattern recognition, meaning extraction, and efficiency. We don’t tend to process social information the same way, and we don’t always assign the same emotional weight to the timeline of a story.


Older neurodivergent person with short white hair and thoughtful expression sits in an audience, wearing a colorful scarf. Blurred people in background.

Our instinct is to skip to the point, look for the core takeaway, or find the relevant insight - not relive every detail of how the barista’s mood shifted slightly when the oat milk ran out.


That doesn’t make us rude, unfeeling, or inattentive. It means our processing style is different.


  • Neurotypical people build stories to bring people in.

  • We build stories to make sense of what happened.

  • And those are RADICALLY different operating systems.


Summary vs. Saga


To the neurodivergent brain, the need to tell a story in real time can feel like trying to assemble IKEA furniture using a Shakespearean soliloquy. Beautiful, sure - but deeply inefficient.


When someone says, “Okay, so first I got in the car…” we immediately begin searching for clues. Is this story about an accident? An emotional breakthrough? A transformation arc involving snacks?


Twelve minutes later, we learn it was about someone being slightly rude in a checkout line. A moment that somehow required three characters, a weather report, and a flashback.


And still - this is how they connect.


Neurodivergent couple laughing in a kitchen with mint green tiles. One wears a black shirt and overalls, the other a taupe shirt. Bright, joyful mood.

Why it matters to notice this


This isn’t just about conversational preferences. It’s a deeper insight into the way neurotypical and neurodivergent people experience time, memory, and meaning differently.


Neurotypicals tend to value shared presence in a story - feeling it together.

Neurodivergents tend to value shared understanding - what the story reveals or resolves.


They communicate through sequence.

We communicate through significance.


Neither is better. But recognizing the difference is powerful. It gives us tools for grace, patience, and even humor in conversations where our needs quietly clash.


Ok, I know. What now?


If you're neurodivergent, it’s okay to feel your brain glaze over sometimes. You're not broken - you just process communication differently.


And if you're neurotypical and find yourself puzzled by your ND friend’s “cut to the chase” tendencies, know that it’s not a rejection of you. It’s often a sign of care - an attempt to connect in their native language.


We all tell stories. We just edit differently.


So the next time someone starts with, “Let me walk you through what happened at brunch,” and you feel yourself slipping into low-power mode… try smiling, and think:


This is affection. In real time.


-Elle


Want to Keep Exploring?

This space is still new, but it’s already full of big questions, half-formed truths, and stories that might sound a little like yours.


If you’re curious where to go next, here are a few places to wander:


  • Start Here: What Even Is Divergent Adulting?

    For those of us learning how to care for ourselves the second (or third) time around.


  • What Does Neuroqueer Actually Mean?

    Musings on identity, softness, resistance, and showing up queerly diverse in spaces that weren’t built for us.


  • The Neuroqueer Life Map Quickstart (free download)

    A gentle, self-paced journal for autistic, ADHD, AuDHD, queer or otherwise neurodivergent humans who are ready to unmask, unlearn, and rewrite their story from the inside out.


Or, if you just want to be here quietly, you can join the list and I’ll send new things your way when they’re ready. No pressure. No performance.


I love that you’re here.


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