Real or Overreaction?

It has to be real, or does it?

One of the most grounding questions I carry as an autistic person is this: is what I am experiencing and/or feeling real, or is it an overreaction?

At first glance it might sound like self-doubt. But for me, it has become a steadying compass, a way of giving shape to moments that can otherwise feel overwhelming or confusing.

Neurodiverse perception is different. We notice the things others skim past: the shift in someone’s tone, the rhythm of a conversation, the energy in a room, the detail hidden in a pattern. These gifts bring depth and insight, but they also bring intensity. A single word, a short message, or a sudden change can land like a stone dropped in still water. The ripples spread quickly. Without a way to pause, those ripples can grow into waves.

This is why the question matters. Is this real, or is this an overreaction? It’s not about dismissing emotions. Feelings are always real. Instead, it’s about context. Both answers can be true: the event may matter, and my reaction may be heightened. Noticing that difference doesn’t weaken me. It gives me room to choose how I want to respond.

Everyday life: the cancelled plan

A friend cancels plans with a short text: Sorry, can’t make it.

The sting is immediate. My heart sinks. The thought rises: I must not matter that much to them. The body remembers past rejections, and the old story plays on loop.

Then the pause: is this real, or is this an overreaction?

It is real that I feel disappointed. It is real that the message lacked warmth. But my leap to I’m not important may be an overreaction, born of memory rather than fact. Holding both truths changes how I meet the moment. I still feel the hurt, but I don’t let it spiral into mistrust. I can leave space for the possibility that my friend was tired, overwhelmed, or distracted, without erasing my own feelings in the process.

Professional life: the blunt email

A colleague sends an email: Fix this.

The words hit sharp. My first thought: they don’t respect me. Anxiety rises, fast and familiar.

Then the pause: is this real, or is this an overreaction?

It is real that the email landed blunt. But it might be an overreaction to assume disrespect. Maybe they were rushing between meetings. Maybe they trusted me enough not to pad their words. Naming the difference allows me to fix the issue without burning energy in resentment. Later, if needed, I can ask for clearer communication.

What this practice gives

The power of this question lies in its simplicity. It creates a small but vital pause between stimulus and response. In that pause, three gifts emerge:

• Clarity: the ability to see what belongs to this moment, and what belongs to old wounds or familiar patterns.

• Choice: the freedom to act from steadiness rather than reflex.

• Compassion: a kinder relationship with our own intensity. Instead of labelling ourselves as “too much,” we learn to honour our feelings and still decide how to use them.

For neurodiverse people, this is not just a mental exercise. It is a survival skill. Our heightened sensitivity can either drown us or guide us. With practice, real or overreaction becomes a filter that keeps the gift without letting it turn into overwhelm.

Beyond the pause

Over time, the question reshapes how we meet the world. It helps us protect relationships by reducing unnecessary conflict. It softens the grip of self-doubt. It allows us to remain open without being overexposed.

It does not erase sensitivity. It refines it. It creates a rhythm where emotion and reason sit side by side, neither cancelling the other, both adding their voice to the decision.

And perhaps most importantly, it builds trust, not just with others, but with ourselves. Trust that we can feel deeply without being consumed. Trust that we can meet life as it is, without silencing the very qualities that make us who we are.

What comes next

This practice is the beginning. At Little Red Notebook we’ve built a full Real or Overreaction Framework, a step-by-step guide that neurodiverse individuals can use daily to steady themselves and grow more confident in the dance between feeling and fact.

If you’d like a copy of the framework, contact us, and we’ll share it with you. 

And if you’re ready to go further, Sabina and I offer one-on-one coaching for neurodiverse individuals. Together, we work across the many facets of both life and work, with one clear purpose: to help you thrive by being the best version of you. If you’d to talk to us about coaching DM or email us at thecatalysts@littlerednotebook.com.au.

For now, I leave you with the question that steadies me: When something lands hard, pause and ask is this real, or is this an overreaction?

The answer may not always be clear. But the pause itself will change everything.