Shifting Gears to Stay on the Same Road: When Different Brains Crave Different Approaches to Consistency

“Everyone’s brain works differently” sounds like something people say just to be polite or encouraging. For me, it is a lived reality that I have intentionally chosen to bring into my practice. I have spent my whole life experiencing the world through a brain that didn’t seem to work like everyone else’s. In fact, in retrospect, it is one of the things that inspired me to become a Whole Person Coach. I wanted to create a space where people feel safe to explore and embrace what makes them unique rather than trying to fix or change it. It didn’t occur to me until I started studying for my Neurodiversity Coach certification that my own neurodivergence has been one of my greatest strengths, even though it also shaped some of the most difficult human experiences in my life.

Different Ways of Seeing the Same Brain

There are a couple of different ways neurodivergence is viewed by experts. One is a clinical view, in which people are considered to have some level of cognitive deficit that needs to be fixed or adjusted for through behavioral changes. The other is a more social view, often referred to as the neurodiversity paradigm. Philosophers Heather Browning and Walter Veit, in their paper “The Neurodiversity Model and Medical Model: Competitors or Alternative Perspectives?” describe the neurodiversity paradigm as a way of understanding neurocognitive differences as natural variations of the human mind rather than problems to be solved. While the clinical view has brought meaningful support and clarity for many people, it has also contributed to misunderstandings and stigma when differences are reduced to stereotypes. Instead of focusing on what is wrong inside the person, the neurodiversity paradigm highlights the limitations within society that place pressure on individuals to override themselves and supports people in leaning into the way their brains work differently.

A Brain That Works Differently

This more social view resonates with me, not only as a coach who believes that all people are whole and capable, but as a person who has struggled with having a brain that worked differently my entire life. Without having any formal diagnosis, I have been constantly reminded of how my brain works outside of societal norms: how many questions I ask, how much I’ve fixated on language and grammar, how I notice the tiniest details that others seem to miss, and how quickly I pick out patterns. I even can literally see the different ways a story might play out in my head before it reaches its end. That’s why I love stories that surprise me, stories where human behavior is intentionally different, unpredictable, and creative.

But I wasn’t always aware that my brain was simply wired differently. For a long time, I thought there must have been something wrong with me. Because I was a high achiever on the outside, it was often written off as annoying to others. That made human connection harder for me, made it scary to fully be myself, and I felt lonely as I “kept my quirks in check” as much as possible.

When My Brain Goes Blank

It took me a few decades to understand something really important. When I repeat the same task or routine for too long, something happens in my brain. My brain goes blank. I don’t get bored. I don’t get antsy. I don’t get burned out. My brain simply goes blank, and I feel like I can’t grasp the next thought, step, or action that needs to happen.

That was really frustrating as I was trying to function in a society that tells us to “lock in,” “power through,” and “never quit.”

It started when I was a kid. I hated that my sister drove the same route to school every morning, even though I didn’t really know why. I would say things like, “There are a million different ways to get to school. Why do you have to drive this exact same way every single day?”

Later, in college and early in my career, it showed up as crashing. I would push as hard as I could, then crash for a day or two, then rebound. I accepted it as the way I operated, but I hated those crash days because I felt like I was wasting time. As my responsibilities increased, it became harder to rebound after each crash, and I began to think I was burning out.

This photo was taken the day before the fight I mention in this story. That season taught me something important about how my brain works, and what consistency actually means for me.

I didn’t see the pattern clearly until I was training for a fight in my 30s. My mixed martial arts coach would show me a new striking combination or grappling technique. I watched him demonstrate it three to four times from different angles, then I could repeat it exactly as I saw it. I practiced it ten to twelve times, getting more accurate each time. Then suddenly I didn’t know what I was doing anymore.

At first, I thought it was self-doubt creeping in. But it didn’t feel like doubt. It literally felt like my brain went blank. There were no negative thoughts, no whispers of self-talk. Just blankness.

When my coach temporarily switched back to a combination I already knew well and then returned to the new technique, it became seamless. It felt like I had never stopped.

That was the moment I understood that consistency, for me, means intentionally shifting gears from time to time in order to stay on the same road.

Different Brains and Consistency: Changing the Combination

This pattern has shown up in other places too. Today, for example, I am writing this blog post from Starbucks because I had been working on my business brand and marketing consistently for weeks in the same routine. I had also been coaching and completing other tasks, but the daily structure had become repetitive.

When I woke up this morning and thought about jumping into that same routine again, my brain went blank. I knew every step. I knew what needed to happen. But it felt like staring at a glowing blank screen with no way to change the channel.

So I took care of the dogs and got in the car. As soon as I was on my way to the coffee shop, it felt like new channels were slowly becoming available. By the time I set up my laptop, connected my hotspot, and ordered my coffee, I had full access again. I needed to change the combination. Different sights, smells, sounds, and tasks helped me reset and focus.

As most of us know, common personal development advice emphasizes routine. I’ve been accused of being resistant to routines for a long time. Now that I understand this is simply one way my brain operates outside societal norms, I no longer feel like I “can’t get it right.” I feel intentional in a way that works best for me.

Beyond A Diagnosis

I’m okay with self-identifying as neurodivergent without pursuing a specific diagnosis, because I’ve learned that what makes my brain work differently has also given me unique strengths. In fighting, I learned quickly because of my pattern recognition and attention to detail. As a creative leader, that same attention to detail, along with my ability to visualize outcomes and anticipate how stories might unfold, gave me an edge creatively and in building operational systems.

Researchers like Robert Chapman and Havi Carel have written about how differences in how each person’s brain works can be beneficial in how they show up in the world. Their research outline in the paper “Neurodiversity, epistemic injustice, and the good human life” moves away from seeing cognitive differences as problems located solely inside the person, as in the clinical view, and instead recognizes strengths alongside challenges while also acknowledging the role of social context.

For some people, getting a diagnosis is important because it provides access to resources that our society often keeps behind “proof” requirements. For others, a diagnosis brings clarity and opens conversations that deepen connection. In many ways, both the clinical and social perspectives can be useful, depending on what someone needs.

Through a Whole Person perspective, a diagnosis does not define a person. Even with the same diagnosis, lived experience can look completely different from one individual to another. Instead of adjusting for a diagnosis, I prefer to understand what it feels like inside the person experiencing it. Removing assumptions that come from a clinical framework is one way of making a real effort to see the world through my clients’ eyes.

Every Brain Works Differently

Whether neurodiversity is part of the picture or not, I believe every person deserves to be welcomed into a space where they can think and operate in ways that feel supportive as they choose their direction. Every brain works differently and different brains crave different methods for consistency. When you combine that with the different experiences we’ve each lived, no two people will choose the exact same path when given that space.

That is a beautiful story I love witnessing again and again.

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As a trauma-informed Whole Person Coach in Las Vegas, I work with reflective adults who are rethinking productivity, consistency, and identity beyond clinical labels, and exploring how to work with their brain rather than against it. If that resonates, you’re welcome to schedule a Connection Session whenever it feels supportive.