A Note About Language: Why the Words We Use Matter

I believe that language really matters.

The words used about us and the words we use to describe ourselves shape how we see our identities, our possibilities, and our place in the world. They influence what we expect from ourselves and what we believe we deserve.

For many people living with trauma or navigating neurodiversity, language has often been used in ways that leave them feeling broken, difficult, too much, or not enough. These words can cling to us for years. They can make us believe that our reactions are faults rather than understandable responses to what we’ve lived through. In this space, we hope to gently challenge those old narratives. I choose language that reflects a core belief:

People are people first.

Not diagnoses or disorders, not labels and certainly not problems to be solved.

You might have heard people describe themselves as “a traumatised person,” “a dysregulated person,” or “a neurodivergent problem.” Sometimes medical or diagnostic words can feel heavy, fixed, or defining as if your most difficult or vulnerable moments are the most important thing about you. As if who you are has been decided by someone else, written in permanent ink.

But there are many other ways of speaking about and understanding human experience.

Instead of talking about reactions as “symptoms,” we can talk about them as protective responses, ways that the body or mind learned to keep you safe, or even signals asking for compassion rather than correction.

Instead of talking about neurodiversity as a deficit, we can talk about difference, unique and often wonderful ways of processing the world.

Take the beautiful example of Temple Grandin who is extraordinary because of her autism. Her unique way of thinking in pictures and from the perspective of animals allows her to understand them and their systems and sensory experiences in ways others simply can’t. Her neurodivergence isn’t a limitation; in fact, it’s the very source of her innovation, empathy, and world-changing insight.

Instead of calling strong emotions “overreactions,” or “symptoms” we can acknowledge an overwhelmed nervous system doing its best in an often chaotic and confusing world.

I aim to avoid language that makes trauma or neurodiversity sound purely medical or pathological. These experiences are part of many people’s lives and they can mean many things. Finding meaning in our experiences can be incredibly liberating.

Describing everything as an illness or a disorder can make it seem like the only solution lies in someone else’s hands: the expert, the system, the medication, and sometimes for some people this may in fact be the case. But healing and growth also come from understanding, kindness, and choice. Things you can develop yourself or with a helping hand, at your own pace and in your own way.

It’s not always easy to move away from medical or deficit-based language. Many services and systems still rely on it. But it’s so important to me as an ethical psychologist to try to find ways of talking about experiences that feel human, dignifying, and transformative.

I believe that people should feel free to find their own words. Words that fit their experiences on their terms, not words handed to them by someone else.

This honours the uniqueness of each person’s story and places the power back where it belongs: with you.

So, I invite you to take a moment to think about the language you use to describe yourself and if it truly reflects who you authentically are, or instead who somebody once told you that you were.

Gentle Questions to Reflect On

• Do you ever describe yourself using labels you didn’t choose? What would it sound like to put yourself first?

(e.g., “I’m a person who finds some things overwhelming” instead of “I’m too sensitive.”)

• Do you explain your experiences using medical terms because that’s how they were explained to you? Are there other words that might feel more accurate or compassionate?

• How might you have described your reactions before you learned to see them as “symptoms”?

• Does using your own language change how you feel about what you’ve lived through?

• What language or terms feel outdated or even insulting when it comes to describing your lived experience?