When the World No Longer Fits – Neurodivergence and the Changing Environment
Updated: 1 day ago
Bianca Marie Ross is a counsellor and founder of the Ross Neurodiversity Integration Framework (RNIF™) and Workplace Integration System (WIS™). Her work explores the gap between awareness and sustainable change, helping neurodivergent individuals and organisations create meaningful, lasting outcomes.
Autism and ADHD are strongly influenced by genetics. So if these neurodevelopmental differences are largely rooted in lifelong wiring, could changes in the world around us help explain why some people find everyday life increasingly difficult to navigate?
Autism, ADHD and the evidence for genetics
On 15 September 2026, the UK’s National Autistic Society published a statement declaring that autism is genetic, following a review of 99 sources, including 83 research papers. Its conclusion was that most autistic people are autistic because of genes inherited from their parents. There is no single autism gene; thousands of genes contribute, and there is currently no genetic test that can predict or diagnose autism.
The evidence for ADHD tells a similar story. A major review of family, twin and adoption research found a mean heritability estimate of 74% across 37 twin studies. More recent research continues to describe ADHD as highly heritable, with many genetic variants contributing to a person’s likelihood of developing it.
Heritability needs to be understood correctly. It describes variation within a population; it does not tell us what percentage of an individual’s condition is genetic, nor does it mean that their future is predetermined. Genetics contributes substantially to both autism and ADHD, but it does not explain every aspect of an individual’s experience.
As a counsellor working with neurodivergent clients and their families, this evidence leads me to a wider question.
If autism and ADHD are strongly influenced by genetics, why can the experience of living with these differences vary so significantly? Why do some people manage for years before reaching a point where everyday demands become overwhelming? Why do some people spend decades masking their difficulties before they understand why life has felt harder than it seems to feel for others?
I am not suggesting that environmental change alone explains the increase in diagnoses. Changes in awareness, diagnostic criteria and identification all play a role, and whether there has also been a genuine increase in prevalence remains debated.
Instead, I want to explore a different possibility: could the changing demands of modern life amplify the difficulties some neurodivergent people experience, even when their underlying neurodevelopmental differences have not changed?
This is the thinking behind what I call Mismatch Amplification Theory: my proposed explanation for how the relationship between a person’s neurodevelopmental profile and their environment may become increasingly difficult to manage.
It is a theory to explore, not an established explanation for rising diagnoses. But it raises an important question about the world we have built and the people expected to navigate it.
What happens when the environment and the individual are mismatched?
The concept of an environment of evolutionary adaptedness is used to describe the conditions to which a species has adapted over its evolutionary history. John Bowlby drew on evolutionary thinking in developing attachment theory, emphasising the importance of close, responsive relationships in a child’s development.
Anthropologist Sarah Blaffer Hrdy has also explored the idea that humans evolved through cooperative caregiving, with children receiving care not only from their mothers but from other familiar adults. Her work offers an important perspective on human development, although the precise evolutionary explanations remain debated.
These ideas invite us to consider a broader question: what happens when the conditions around a person do not adequately support their needs?
This is not an argument that there was one perfect historical environment, or that the past was better for every child. It is also not a suggestion that all neurodivergent people need the same conditions.
It is a reminder that human functioning does not happen in isolation. Our ability to regulate, learn, communicate, organise and respond to demands is influenced by the relationships, structures and environments around us.
For a neurodivergent person, a setting that offers predictability, clear communication, flexibility and appropriate support may allow their capabilities to flourish. The same person in a setting full of ambiguity, interruptions, sensory demands and rigid expectations may struggle considerably more.
The person has not necessarily become less capable. The conditions have changed, or the mismatch has become more difficult to manage.
And this brings us to one of the most significant changes in everyday life: the rapid movement of essential tasks into digital systems.
The technology exists, so why are we still creating barriers?
We live in a world of extraordinary technological advancement. We have facial recognition, passkeys, password managers, autofill, voice control and tools that can reduce the need to remember information or navigate complicated processes.
Yet these capabilities are not consistently integrated into the systems where accessibility matters most.
Think about the everyday tasks many of us now complete online: booking a GP appointment, accessing online banking, completing an application or managing essential household administration.
These processes can require us to remember login details, recall which email address we used, retrieve verification codes, switch between applications, interpret instructions, follow a sequence of steps and return to unfinished tasks without losing our place.
For someone who experiences difficulties with working memory, task initiation, sequencing or executive functioning, these demands can create significant barriers.
I know this is not merely theoretical. My own GP uses an online-only appointment system. When access to an essential service depends on navigating a digital process, the ability to use that process becomes part of the gateway to care.
The client may understand perfectly well that they need an appointment. They may want to make it and recognise the consequences of delaying it. Yet they can still struggle to complete the steps required.
Understanding what needs to happen is not the same as being able to make it happen.
That distinction matters. It is easy to interpret an unfinished task as procrastination, avoidance or a lack of motivation. But sometimes the person is facing a sequence of cognitive demands that makes the task disproportionately difficult.
Technology has the potential to reduce these demands. Imagine systems that remember securely where appropriate, save progress automatically, offer accessible alternatives to complex verification, present one clear action at a time and allow people to choose the access method that works best for them.
Biometrics and passkeys already exist, of course. The issue is not that nobody has developed accessible technology. It is that accessibility is not consistently built into the complete user journeys people must navigate. Nor should one method, such as facial recognition, be compulsory for everyone; people need secure, accessible alternatives and meaningful choice.
This is about more than convenience. Digital systems increasingly mediate access to essential parts of life.
We have spent years teaching people to adapt to technology. Perhaps it is time to ask how much further technology could adapt to people.
When small barriers accumulate
One difficult login might seem insignificant. One missed appointment might appear manageable. One unfinished form might be put down to a busy day.
But what happens when the same person encounters these barriers repeatedly, across different parts of their life?
A task is delayed. The problem remains unresolved. Anxiety increases. Another demand arrives. The person must now deal with the original task and the consequences of not completing it.
For someone who already finds planning, prioritising or initiating tasks difficult, the additional demands may make it even harder to begin.
This is one possible way mismatch may be amplified. The original difficulty creates further demands, and those demands make the original difficulty harder to resolve.
I am not suggesting that this sequence happens to every neurodivergent person, or that digital systems are the sole cause of distress. The point is that environmental demands can interact with existing differences in ways that deserve closer attention.
The same principle applies beyond technology. A child navigating a noisy classroom, an employee working in an unpredictable environment or an adult trying to manage competing responsibilities may encounter a series of demands that individually appear reasonable but collectively become overwhelming.
When we look only at the individual’s response, we risk missing the contribution of the environment.
How does stress enter the picture?
Research from Harvard’s Center on the Developing Child describes how excessive or prolonged activation of the body’s stress response can affect a child’s developing brain and other biological systems, particularly when significant adversity occurs without adequate supportive relationships.
This research focuses primarily on toxic stress and serious adversity. It should not be used to claim that ordinary daily frustrations have the same effects.
However, it reinforces an important principle: experiences and relationships matter to development, and supportive relationships can help buffer the effects of stress.
My question is whether we pay enough attention to the cumulative demands placed on children and adults whose neurodevelopmental profiles make some everyday environments more difficult to navigate.
A child who struggles to regulate in a demanding classroom may need more support, not simply more pressure to conform. A parent who is overwhelmed by competing responsibilities may need practical adjustments, not another reminder of what they should be doing. An adult who cannot navigate an online system may need a more accessible route through it, rather than being left to interpret the difficulty as personal failure.
These are not claims that environmental mismatch causes autism or ADHD. They are questions about how the environment influences a person’s experience of living with those differences.
The environment includes the people around us.
When adults have the time, capacity and support to respond to a child’s needs, they may be better placed to help that child regulate and recover from difficult experiences. When adults are stretched, that support can become harder to provide consistently. This is not a criticism of parents or professionals. It is a recognition that support depends partly on the conditions in which people are trying to provide it.
Why is masking so common, and what does it cost?
In my clinical work, I meet neurodivergent adults who have spent years learning to conceal their difficulties.
Some have become exceptionally skilled at observing other people, working out what is expected and adjusting their behaviour accordingly. They may appear organised, capable and successful, while using enormous amounts of energy to maintain that appearance.
Others have learned that expressing distress brings criticism, embarrassment or rejection. They may hide their difficulties because appearing to cope feels safer than asking for help.
Rejection sensitivity is one term used to describe the intense distress some people experience around perceived rejection or criticism. It is not a standalone formal diagnosis, and experiences vary considerably between individuals.
Whatever the underlying mechanism, the pressure to conceal difficulties can have a cost.
Masking does not necessarily resolve the mismatch between a person and their environment. It can add another layer of work: the effort required to manage the original demands while concealing the struggle from others.
In my experience, shame often sits beneath this effort. Clients describe years of feeling that everyday things should be easier, that other people seem to manage without difficulty, or that they are somehow failing to meet expectations.
Some have experienced ridicule or exclusion at school and carry the effects of those experiences into adulthood.
When people repeatedly struggle to meet expectations that do not account for their needs, they may begin to see themselves as the problem.
What if we also need to examine the expectations?
What if some of the difficulties we interpret as personal shortcomings are being intensified by environments that offer insufficient flexibility, accessibility or support?
This does not mean removing every challenge or assuming that all distress can be prevented. It means distinguishing between a difficulty a person may need support to manage and an unnecessary barrier that could be changed.
What would closing the gap look like?
If neurodevelopmental differences are lifelong, we cannot approach them as though the person simply needs to try harder to become someone else. We can, however, examine the conditions in which people are expected to function.
In education, this might mean considering sensory demands, communication, predictability and the way support is delivered.
In workplaces, it might mean treating reasonable adjustments as part of effective organisational practice rather than as favours granted to individuals who struggle to meet standard expectations.
In digital services, it might mean designing processes around a wider range of cognitive needs, providing accessible alternatives and reducing unnecessary steps.
In families, it might mean recognising that parents also have limits and that children benefit when the adults around them have appropriate support. In therapy, it raises a particularly important question.
A client may gain insight into their difficulties. They may recognise their patterns, understand their needs and identify what they want to change. Yet when they return to everyday life, they may still face the same systems, expectations and practical barriers.
A study published in The Lancet Psychiatry examined outcomes for more than 8,500 autistic adults who attended NHS Talking Therapies for anxiety and depression. It found that autistic adults were less likely to reliably improve or recover than matched adults without identified autism, and more likely to experience deterioration.
A 2026 study involving more than 13,000 adults with ADHD who received psychological therapy through NHS Talking Therapies found a similar pattern: people with ADHD could benefit, but their outcomes were poorer than those of a matched comparison group without diagnosed ADHD.
These findings do not prove that environmental mismatch explains the difference. They do, however, raise important questions about whether existing services adequately meet the needs of neurodivergent people.
We need to be willing to consider whether understanding a difficulty is always enough to help someone overcome it.
If a client understands why they struggle to organise a task but cannot navigate the system required to complete it, what else might help? If someone recognises that they need support but cannot manage the steps required to access it, how do we help bridge that distance?
The answer will not always be to intervene directly. Practitioners must work within their competence, respect client autonomy and make decisions guided by professional and ethical responsibilities.
But we can ask better questions about what happens after insight.
Where do we start?
Perhaps we start by looking at the world from the perspective of the person trying to navigate it.
When a task remains unfinished, we can ask what made it difficult to complete. When a child struggles in a particular environment, we can consider whether the demands are appropriate and what support might help. When an adult understands their needs but cannot put that understanding into practice, we can explore what is standing in the way.
This shifts the conversation away from asking only, “What is wrong, and how do we fix it?” towards asking, “What is happening here, what is making this harder, and what could help?”
That shift matters because the goal is not simply to help neurodivergent people survive environments that do not work for them. It is to create conditions in which they can use their capabilities, develop independence and thrive.
When a neurodivergent person is supported to work in a way that suits their strengths, the results can be remarkable. They may see a solution others have missed, approach a complex problem from a different angle or complete work with an originality that standard expectations fail to recognise.
Their strengths were there all along. The question is whether the environment allows those strengths to emerge.
I believe we need to look more closely at the space between understanding and action: the point at which someone knows what they need, but cannot yet translate that knowledge into sustainable change in everyday life.
In my next article, I will explore how this gap can be addressed in therapeutic practice and introduce the Ross Neurodiversity Integration Framework (RNIF™), the framework I developed to help practitioners consider how insight can become meaningful, sustainable change beyond the therapy room.
You can also read my Brainz interview, “Why Understanding Neurodiversity Is Only the Beginning”, and my book, When Insight Isn’t Enough: The Gap Between Therapy and Real-World Change for Neurodivergent Clients.
Because understanding matters. But for many neurodivergent people, understanding is only the beginning.
Read more from Bianca Ross
Bianca Ross, Counsellor and Founder of RNIF™ & WIS™
Bianca Marie Ross is a counsellor, trainer and creator of the Ross Neurodiversity Integration Framework (RNIF™) and the Workplace Integration System (WIS™). Her work bridges clinical practice and organisational change, helping practitioners, leaders and workplaces move beyond awareness into practical, sustainable implementation. Drawing on professional expertise alongside lived experience of neurodivergence within her own family, Bianca is passionate about creating systems that improve everyday outcomes rather than simply increasing understanding. Through training, consultancy and writing, she is helping shape conversations around neurodiversity across therapy, education and the workplace.
