Breaking Free From Internalized Shame: A Guide for Neurodivergent and LGBTQ+ Folks

Shame Is Learned, Not Inherent

Shame never comes out of nowhere. For many people, especially those with marginalized identities, shame is something we learn over time. It can come from overt harm like bullying, harassment, or discrimination, but it also can be learned in more subtle ways that are easier to miss.

Oftentimes, shame is communicated through what is absent rather than what is said outright. Think about the shows you watch, the books you read, or the stories that are most visible in media. They do not have to say anything explicitly negative about identities like neurodivergence, queerness, or disability. Sometimes, the message is simply that these identities are missing entirely.

You might not consciously notice the absence of disabled characters in a tv show, for example, but there is still an impact. The implicit message is that you do not belong, or that your story is not worth sharing.

Shame can also be internalized from microaggressions. Representation and language matter. Phrases like “they have autism” as opposed to “Autistic person” can frame Autism as something someone carries like an illness, similar to a cold or the flu. It’s similar to the reasoning behind why we don’t say “a man with gayness”. Avoiding identity-based language can also reinforce the idea that naming who you are is undesirable or inappropriate.

When these implicit messages are layered on top of more overt harm, the impact compounds. Over time, many people begin to internalize messages like “I do not belong” or “there is something wrong with me.”

When Insight Is Not Enough

In therapy, I often work with clients who are highly insightful. On a conscious level, they may understand that they are not lesser because of who they are. And yet, the belief still lives in their body and in their choices. This is often how internalized oppression shows up.

It can look like deciding to attend an event without accommodations because it would be “rude” to ask someone for their seat. Or feeling relieved to be bisexual because at least you could “choose” a relationship that appears heteronormative. Or thinking, “I use she and they pronouns, but if everyone just uses she, that is fine. It’s not technically wrong.”

This is what internalized shame often looks like IRL: knowing something is unjust, but still organizing your life as if the problem is you.

How Internalized Shame Shows Up In Intimacy

In sex and intimate relationships, this pattern often becomes even more intense. Someone might tolerate sexual experiences that are uncomfortable or overstimulating, such as being deeply bothered by body fluids or vocalizations during sex, but deciding to just bear it. The underlying belief is the same: there is something wrong with my way of being, my needs, or how I experience the world.

In these moments, the problem is directed inward. Instead of identifying the real issue as an oppressive world, we turn it onto ourselves. And when we do that, we abandon ourselves in attempts to belong, or at least avoid oppression. This can look like masking, constant self-monitoring, or even distancing ourselves from others who share similar identities.

Why Self Blame Can Feel Safer Than Naming Oppression

And honestly, it makes complete sense why this can feel like a tempting option. If the problem exists within me, then maybe it is fixable. In this case, telling ourselves “I can only control myself, not the world” offers a false comfort. The comfort comes at the cost of causing ourselves harm. And in doing so, we become our own oppressors. 

The alternative, acknowledging systemic harm, can feel riskier because it highlights how much is outside of our control. When we accept these narratives, we are the ones who suffer. We become accustomed to accepting less than we deserve. 

In relationships, this can mean allowing people who do not treat us well into our lives. It can mean staying quiet about needs, desires, or boundaries in intimate relationships. Over time, this erodes intimacy and self-trust.

An Alternative to Internalized Shame

I’d like to offer an alternative. It’s not guaranteed to be pain-free, always safe, or comfortable. But the pain changes. It’s no longer self-inflicted.

What if, instead of self-criticism and self-surveillance, we approached ourselves with curiosity and compassion? What if our needs and desires were allowed to be legitimate?

What if you accommodated yourself instead of trying to force it? This is relevant for folks exploring Autism, LGBTQ Care, or any identity where accommodation feels radical.

I can’t count how many times I have worn earplugs in public and had someone approach me to ask where I got them, or to say they wish they had a pair too. Acts of authenticity can quietly give others permission to do the same. They challenge the idea that there is only one acceptable way to exist in public, in relationships, or in intimacy.

From Individualism to Collectivism

In a broader context, meaningful social change has often come from people refusing to internalize shame and instead demanding to be treated with dignity and respect. When individuals stop carrying the burden of oppression alone and share it, it becomes something that can be challenged.

Unlearning shame is not about pretending the world is fair or safe. It’s not a process that’s guaranteed, or even likely, to be pain-free. It’s about refusing to locate the harm solely within yourself. It is about recognizing that your identity, your needs, and your way of moving through the world are not defects. 

An Invitation

If any part of this resonates, this is the kind of work I support folks with in therapy. Together we can explore how shame has been learned, how it shows up in your body and relationships, and what it might look like to relate to yourself with more compassion.

In solidarity,

Marlee