When Over-Functioning Becomes Your Love Language

How Neurodivergents and Deep-Feelers Can Stop Going The Extra Mile

With all due respect, people who over-function get on my nerves.

I’m talking about myself, by the way.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Many of us are used to the idea that we will often need to go the extra mile in relationships, particularly due to a history of having neurotypical friends, friends who didn’t like us very much, or friends who were indifferent to us. We get comfortable with either not being considered at all or being considered last. Eventually, our nervous systems become accustomed to sidelining our own emotional needs. That tends to work for us…until it doesn’t.

As an autistic woman, I’ve been training myself to say “Yes” since I could form words.

“Can I have a hug?”

“Can you do my part of the group project?”

“Can you stay longer?”

“Can I copy off of your homework?”

The answer was always yes. Before I knew it, I was teaching my body to accept being inconvenienced as normal. What’s worse—I thought that was my job. Autistic people are disproportionately minimized when we share spaces with neurotypical people. Make no mistake, though, reader. I’m not saying that your shy autistic friend who doesn’t mesh well with neurotypical coworkers in a group discussion is experiencing oppression in that moment. However, if the security of their job depends more on how “personable” they seem, as opposed to how well they do their job, that’s a different story. All that to say, an autistic person often has to default to the social rules of the majority to function in society, regardless of how overstimulated or exhausted they are at any given moment. (I’m not talking about regular exhaustion. I’m talking about the kind of exhaustion that makes it difficult to form sentences, to walk with your usual level of coordination, to remember basic things like passwords, and to “perform pleasantness” around coworkers. I had often experienced this in college as a Theatre and Business student with both late rehearsals and night classes. Without going into too much detail, I don’t think I took very good care of myself.) That being said, I was still expected to perform as a “neurotypical woman.”

This kind of woman isn’t from the 60’s. She’s new. She’s not a homemaker with nothing to say. In fact, she articulates herself perfectly, probably has a degree that validates that she has a valuable point of view, is witty, and dresses like she’s ahead of the curve. This neurotypical woman can do it all. She listens to her husband’s complaints about work and wakes up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed—eyeliner perfectly swooped, eggs never burnt, Pilates already attended, and her self-owned business booming. That’s the ideal neurotypical woman. Even when she is exhausted from her superwoman duties, she still looks gorgeous. She is always smiling, no wrinkles, never too slim, never too heavy…and she has energy for all of her friendships, too!

This was a standard that the average autistic woman in 2026 was never going to meet.

Yet, there was a time when I really thought I could. I was convinced that I could. Performing the act of the quirky, yet well-adjusted Barbie doll CEO was a role that I was willing to play to communicate to others that I wouldn’t be a problem—that I would play their game.

I started to realize, though, that this was a game I would always lose.

Over-functioning forces you to comply with the gap others want you to fill, as if that is your sole purpose—to finish someone else’s sentence. Not only does it rob you of your own experience, but it also allows you to hide from yourself. It whispers in your ear when you want to allow someone the space to meet you where you are, and it tells you, “You’re asking for too much. Go easy on them. They need you to go the extra mile.” It makes excuses for why your partner never makes plans and forces you to carry the extra burden. That voice is seductive. It is easy to believe that the reason why someone can’t give you what you need is that they don’t know how. However, sometimes, the hidden truth is that they know you will not require more from them, so they do not offer it.

I want every over-functioning autistic person reading this—woman or not—to understand how much of a privilege it is to be loved by them. If you only get one thing from any article I’ve ever written, I hope it is that.

-CM