Alone, together: the magic of neurospicy friendship
Clarity is a form of care. Especially when the world entangles us in a web of invisible social rules, demanding the relentless work of reading between the lines. But there is a different kind of conversation in the way one unique brain befriends another. It’s okay if you say: "I don’t have the words to talk right now."
"I’m overstimulated by the music, can we leave?"
"I need you to go home now so I can rest."
We offer each other a soft place to land by speaking the first truth that comes to mind. Nevermind the filters, tell me exactly how it is.
Directness as a love language
Friendships do not need to look like anything in particular. When I say, I am at capacity, I am protecting us from my own overwhelm. It is a way of saying, I value this enough to be honest about my limits.
You know those that speak the blunt truth, save us from the exhaustion of wearing a polite mask. There is a quiet advocacy in this. We hold each other up and lift our connection into our own authentic ways of communicating.
We see it when we send memes across the digital with zero context and no expectation of a reply. It is our own way of saying: I am here, I saw something and I thought of you.
We see it when a friend shares the depth of their latest obsession. They are inviting us into their internal landscape, showing us the things that make their brain light up.
Parallel play
What then, when there are no words between us? Just silence. It could be a sanctuary. It could be awkward or something else entirely.
It is a subtle thing but my empathy looks at a quiet friend and overlays my own past, projecting what the silence means based on how I experience it. My empathy could assume discomfort – an awkward gap that needs to be filled with conversation. In this way, I emotionally project and push pressure on the other person to mask, just to reassure me that they are okay.
Curiosity, however, leaves the space open. It acknowledges that a friend's silence might look like a withdrawal but feel like freedom. It feels into what is new and allows what is actually there to be there.
This curiosity is part of the art of being in the same room, perhaps even on the same sofa, while being deeply immersed in completely different worlds. It is the comfort of two distinct nervous systems sharing a single climate of safety, completely alone, entirely together.
The litmus test: Energy over drain
Supporting each other to unmask is an ongoing act of nurture. It is a long, slow, shared commitment to letting go of the predictable, consistent performance that the world demands every single day.
The litmus test of this care is a simple question we can ask our own nervous systems:
How do I feel after we spend time together?
Am I drained or energised?
Does this friendship need more time and attention or less?
Here’s to the friendships, old and new. If you are looking to find your people and connect over shared experiences, check out our upcoming groups.
