The Myth of Perfect Emotional Timing
For most of my life, I thought there was some kind of perfect timing when it came to emotional expression. Like, if I didn't share something at exactly the right moment—with exactly the right amount of context and nuance—then it would fall flat. Or worse, it would overwhelm the other person. So I held back. I waited for the perfect opening.
But here's the thing: there’s no such thing as perfect emotional timing. Especially when you're neurodivergent. Our brains just don’t work that way. They don’t follow linear, logical pathways. They make unexpected connections. They get excited about things that seem random. They info-dump when they feel safe.
I remember one time I was having dinner with a friend, and out of nowhere I started telling them about this obscure documentary I’d seen about competitive dog grooming. I could see their eyes glaze over as I dove into the intricacies of poodle sculpting. I was so excited to share this weird, wonderful thing I’d discovered. But in my enthusiasm, I hadn’t left any space for them to engage. I just kept talking and talking until their plate was clean and the check was paid.
That’s the thing about ADHD enthusiasm—it’s like a tidal wave. It sweeps you up in its energy and it can accidentally steamroll whoever is in its path. You’re so focused on getting your thoughts out that you forget to check in, forget to create space for the other person to share.
But here’s what I’ve been learning: sharing excitement doesn’t have to mean dominating the conversation. It doesn’t have to mean info-dumping until the other person’s eyes glaze over. It can mean finding a balance. Allowing your enthusiasm to be felt, but also leaving room for the other person to engage.
For me, that looks like practicing something radical: pausing.
Allowing for silence. Checking in with the other person.
“Hey, this is something I’m really excited about. I want to share it with you, but I also want to hear your thoughts.”
It’s a skill I’m still working on. It doesn’t come naturally to my brain that wants to open all the tabs at once.
But I’m realizing that sharing space in a conversation isn’t suppression. It’s collaboration.
It’s saying: Your thoughts and feelings matter as much as mine.
It’s creating a container where both people can feel heard and seen.
Of course, it’s not always easy. My brain still wants to info-dump when I feel safe. It still wants to ride the wave of my own enthusiasm without checking if anyone else is on board. But I’m practicing. I’m learning to take a breath, to leave space, to collaborate rather than dominate.
So yeah—that’s my current thought on perfect emotional timing: it’s a myth.
Especially for neurodivergent folks. Our brains work differently. We need different conversational rhythms and paces.
But that doesn’t mean we can’t learn to share space with others. It just means we have to find our own way of balancing enthusiasm with collaboration.
It’s a work in progress.
One paused conversation at a time.