Neurodivergence and Moving Like the Seasons

I’ve been thinking a lot about transitions lately how I navigate them, how they shape me, and how they show up in the world around us. Right now, I’m sitting in my car outside the Witney car boot sale, waiting for my family. In front of me, the hedgerows are alive with colour, hawthorn berries glow a deep red, and the yellowing leaves look like tiny bursts of fire circling the edge of the field.

There’s no denying it autumn has fully arrived, and winter is gently making its way in. This year, the shift from summer to autumn has been slow, tender almost. The sun has lingered longer than expected, still gifting us warm afternoons and golden sunsets, but the crisp mornings have whispered a reminder not to be fooled. Change is coming, but it’s arriving softly, easing us into the next turn of the wheel.

Watching this gradual shift has made me think about how we, as humans especially those of us who are neurodivergent move through change. So often, we’re described in clinical terms: “doesn’t transition well,” “needs routine,” “struggles with sudden change.” These phrases sound so cold, so lacking in context or compassion and leave shame, upset and fault.

When I look at the natural world, I can’t help but feel that maybe the ‘issue’ isn’t with us at all. Maybe it’s the pace of modern life that’s out of sync. The earth takes her time to turn. The seasons don’t rush from one to the next; they melt and merge, each one preparing the way for what comes after. Imagine if the seasons changed in a single week if summer snapped into winter overnight. The wildlife wouldn’t have time to prepare. The balance would break. Everything would suffer.

Before we had cars, we walked to places. We had time to think, to process, to let our minds wander and settle. Before texts, we wrote letters and notes, sometimes we never sent them, and that pause gave space for reflection, reconsideration, and grace. I’m not saying these modern things are bad,

They’re brilliant in many ways and save us so much time. But maybe that time we “saved” was the very thing we needed to transition well. I don’t know, and I’m not about to give up my car or stop sending messages to find out but I am curious.

Perhaps it’s the same for us. We are nature, after all. Our minds, our bodies, our rhythms they’re not built for instant transitions or relentless speed. When we move too quickly, we become overwhelmed, unrooted, out of step with ourselves.

So maybe instead of saying someone “doesn’t transition well,” we could say they “prefers to change like the seasons.” Slow, steady, thoughtful. Allowing time for adjustment, for grounding, for growth.

Because change, like autumn, can be beautiful when we let it arrive in its own time.