Let’s start with a parable:
There was a monkey who lived in a forest tree, by a river. One day, the monkey saw a fish swimming in the river and thought the fish was struggling. Feeling compassionate, the monkey resolved to save the fish. It swiftly climbed down the tree, reached out, and grabbed the fish from the water. It then climbed back up and laid the fish on a tree branch. There, the fish flapped violently and soon died. The monkey was puzzled, it had only wanted to help.
This story highlights a fundamental idea about different perspectives, environments, and misunderstanding.
The monkey, being a land-dwelling creature, interpreted the fish's swimming as struggling or suffering because it judged the situation based on its own environment and experience. It saw the fish being underwater, not breathing air as it does, and assumed that the fish was in peril. In its well-intentioned efforts to help, it took the fish out of its natural environment and put it into its own environment, thus leading to the fish's demise.
The moral of the story is a caution against assuming that what is right or natural for one being necessarily applies to others. It warns us of the dangers of imposing our own perspectives and ways of living onto others without truly understanding their needs, their nature, or their environment. This parable also encourages us to develop a deep sense of understanding and empathy for the diverse perspectives and needs of different beings, recognizing that each has its own unique way of being in the world.
Now, how does this apply to you?
If you’ve ever bent over backward to connect with your autistic or ADHD teen, only to feel like you still don't understand each other.
You’re not failing.
You’re probably experiencing the double-empathy problem.
It’s not a diagnosis. It’s not gaslighting. And it’s not your fault.
It’s actually a very human misunderstanding that becomes easier to work with once you know what you’re dealing with.
What the Double-Empathy Problem Really Is
The double-empathy problem was named by Dr. Damian Milton, an autistic researcher who flipped the old narrative on its head.
You know that myth that autistic people “lack empathy”?
Wrong.
The truth is, people with very different ways of experiencing the world often struggle to understand each other. Not because one person is insensitive or stubborn, but because they literally don’t have the same frame of reference.
It’s not about misreading facial expressions or missing social cues. It goes deeper than that.
It’s not “I read that wrong.” It’s “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”
It’s not “I read that wrong.” It’s “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”
When your child experiences the world so differently from you, their reactions can feel confusing, or even upsetting. But from their perspective, you’re the one who seems confusing. It goes both ways.
So... This Isn’t Gaslighting?
Not even close.
Gaslighting is intentional manipulation. The double-empathy problem is mutual confusion.
If gaslighting is a trap, the double-empathy problem is like trying to connect over walkie-talkies set to different channels. Both people are talking. Neither one can make sense of the other.
That’s not emotional abuse. That’s two people missing each other without meaning to.
A Real-Life Example
Let’s say your teen walks out of the room halfway through dinner without saying a word.
You might think:
“Did I say something wrong?” “Why are they always so rude?” “I made this meal, and they won’t even sit through it?”
Meanwhile, inside your child’s body:
“Too loud. Too bright. Forks scraping. Everyone talking over each other. I can’t think. I need out.”
You saw disrespect. They felt sensory overload.
That moment didn’t feel the same for both of you; because it wasn’t the same.
How Do You Build Connection When You Don’t Share the Same Experience?
You don’t need to magically understand everything your child feels.
But you can build a bridge.
Here’s how.
1. Say It Out Loud
Don’t assume. Don’t guess. Don’t expect mind-reading, on either side. Say what you’re thinking. Ask what they mean. Say, “Please, help me understand.”
That alone changes everything.
2. Clarify the Language
When your teen says, “I need space,” get curious. Do they mean leave the room? Don’t talk? Come back later?
Define what you both mean by common phrases. Build your shared language one moment at a time.
3. Lead With Curiosity, Not Correction
If they say, “You don’t get it,” try:
“You’re right. I probably don’t. Can you help me understand?”
That one sentence earns more trust than a hundred explanations.
4. Focus on Repair, Not Perfection
You’re going to misfire. That’s OK.
What matters is circling back. “I got that wrong. Can we try again?” is one of the most powerful things you can model.
5. Look for Their Version of Caring
They may not say “I love you” with words. But maybe they straighten your coffee mugs. Or send you a meme. Or unload the dishwasher without being asked, because you had a headache.
Don't miss the love because it comes in a different wrapper.
If You’re Feeling Burnt Out
This is hard. You’re trying to connect across nervous systems, sensory filters, emotional rhythms; and sometimes it feels like you’re playing a game by different rules.
But if you’ve made it this far in the article, then you’re still in the game.
Still learning. Still trying. Still loving your kid enough to find a better way forward.
That matters more than you know.
A Gentle Next Step
Think back to one hard moment this week. Something that left you feeling frustrated or hurt.
Now pause and ask yourself:
“What might my child have been experiencing that I couldn’t see?”
You don’t have to get it right. Just asking the question builds the muscle of empathy; the kind that makes room for difference.
What’s one moment with your teen that makes more sense now that you understand this? Share in the comments or just save this post to revisit when things feel tense.
Bottom Line:
“You can’t understand what you’ve never experienced. But you can choose to be curious. That’s where empathy begins.”
If you’ve ever walked away from a conversation with your neurodivergent child wondering, “Why didn’t that land?” You’re not alone, and you’re not failing. You’re just navigating different worlds.
This article is your invitation to stop blaming yourself (or them) and start building a bridge. One curious question at a time.
Share this with someone who needs to hear they’re not crazy, broken, or alone. Or save it for the days when you need the reminder too.