When Minds Collide: Tracing the Hidden Overlaps of Neurodivergence and Mental Health

For many neurodivergent people, life feels like an endless attempt to fit a square peg into a round hole. No matter how much sanding or shaping is done, the peg doesn’t become round – instead, the hole seems to shrink. Society often assumes that difference is something to be corrected rather than understood. Each new diagnosis or label can feel like another attempt to explain away complexity – to make something ‘fit’ that was never meant to. But what if the problem isn’t the peg at all? What if our understanding of these differences is what needs reshaping?

Picture two dabs of watercolour paint on a clean palette: one labelled neurodivergence, the other mental health. At first, they seem distinct, each with its own hue and story. But tilt the palette slightly and the colours begin to bleed into one another – forming new shades where they meet. In the UK, around 14% of adults screen positive for ADHD, yet among those already living with a common mental health condition, that figure rises to over 38%. Meanwhile, adults diagnosed with Autism are almost twice as likely to experience Anxiety and Depression. The boundaries blur – and so, perhaps, should our understanding.

The impact of neurodivergence is often a complex, watercolour network of co-occurring conditions the UK is beginning to map. Beyond common anxiety and depression, studies reveal tighter links with other mental health diagnoses. For example, there’s a significant overlap between Autism and Personality Disorders, with a notable number of autistic adults meeting the criteria. Similarly, ADHD is closely connected to Bipolar Disorder, where up to 1 in 6 Bipolar patients also have ADHD, often complicating diagnosis. A counterintuitive surprise is the link between Dyslexia and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD); the core need for structured information processing can bleed into compulsive behaviours. Recognising these unexpected characteristic clusters is key to moving past generic labels and providing truly tailored support.

If the mind were a network of strings, many of these conditions might share the same knots. Some are tied by genetics – inherited traits shaping how our brains process information, emotion, and attention. Others form where experience pulls tight: long-term stress, sensory overload, or social exclusion can tangle into anxiety or depression. Even the way society diagnoses can add to the weave. Clinicians may spot Autism and overlook trauma, or see Anxiety but miss ADHD – a phenomenon known as diagnostic overshadowing. The result is a web difficult to untangle, where one strand rarely exists in isolation from the rest.

Treating each diagnosis in isolation is like sending someone to four tailors to make one suit – each working on a separate piece without ever seeing the full pattern. The result rarely fits. When Autism is recognised but Anxiety isn’t, or ADHD is treated while trauma goes unnoticed, the person at the centre gets lost between the seams. This “diagnostic overshadowing” means one condition hides another, delaying or distorting support. In the UK, neurodivergence and mental health services often operate in parallel, rarely crossing paths – yet real people don’t arrive neatly labelled. They bring the whole suit, threads and all.

When neurodivergence is misunderstood, people can internalise that mismatch – seeing themselves as broken rather than simply built differently. Yet when the lens shifts from deficit to respect, potential unfolds. The same mind that struggles to filter noise might also notice patterns others miss. A person dismissed as disorganised may in fact be creative, curious, or deeply empathetic. When understanding replaces correction, confidence grows, and mental health outcomes improve. With the right support – and a culture that prizes difference instead of pathologising it – those once seen as “difficult fits” often become the innovators, problem-solvers, and connectors every community needs.

No two experiences of neurodivergence are the same, because no two lives are. A person’s journey is shaped by gender, race, class, environment, and opportunity. In the UK, girls are far less likely to be assessed for Autism or ADHD than boys, while some boys slip through the net for conditions like anxiety or trauma. Assessment and support should never depend on gender, postcode, or privilege. Even those who don’t meet a clinical threshold still deserve validation; their feelings are real, and their story matters.

Imagine a system designed around the person, not the label – where multidisciplinary teams, trauma-informed, neurodivergence-affirming therapy, and routine screening for co-occurring conditions work together seamlessly. Clinicians recognise overlap rather than overlook it, and funding supports research into both neurodivergence and mental health. Strengths-based tools, like Genius Finder, highlight where individuals excel, while targeted support develops skills in challenging areas. Collaboration between professionals, policymakers, and individuals can create pathways that let neurodivergent people thrive in education, work, and life, confident that mental health challenges will be met with understanding and support.

The square peg will never perfectly fit the round hole – and perhaps that’s the point. Labels and silos have their place, but they can also obscure the person at the centre. What might we gain if we stopped seeing each diagnosis as a separate island, and instead built systems that recognise the whole, blended, capable individual?