When Sensitivity Isn’t the Whole Story

Exploring the space between being Highly Sensitive and Autistic — and why it matters

This blog is written from lived experience, as an Autistic, ADHD, PDA therapist. What I share here isn’t prescriptive or professional advice — it’s a personal reflection. These are my own experiences, offered in the hope they might resonate, prompt reflection, or create connection with others navigating similar paths

Before I knew I was Autistic, I identified as a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP). That language made a lot of sense at the time. It gave me a way to explain why I felt everything so deeply — why I couldn’t cope in noisy spaces, why smells and textures could tip me into complete shutdown, and why I often felt like I was carrying the emotional weight of every room I walked into.

It helped. It really did. It felt like a gentle, non-threatening way to say, “I experience the world differently.” 

And people responded to it with care and understanding.
“Oh yeah, I’m sensitive too,” or “That makes so much sense.” It was received with warmth.

But over time, I started saying things like, “I think I’m maybe a little bit Autistic.” Always with a laugh or a shrug. I never felt fully confident saying it — even though something deep inside me knew. I just didn’t have the language — or the permission, really — to claim it.

Eventually, though, I couldn’t unsee it anymore. I wasn’t “a bit Autistic.”
I am Autistic.

And honestly? One of the biggest shocks wasn’t the realisation — it was the way people started to respond when I said it out loud.

Suddenly, the warmth I got when I said I was highly sensitive seemed to disappear. Some people said, “Oh no, you’re not,” like I’d just insulted myself. Others got weirdly awkward, or changed how they spoke to me — like I’d become fragile, or needed to be spoken to like a child. Sometimes there was just silence, or a strange hesitance, like they didn’t know what to say or how to act anymore.

It was disorienting. And honestly, really sad.

Because the things people appreciate in me — my depth, empathy, creativity, intuition, even my ability to tune in so closely with others — these don’t exist despite me being Autistic.
They’re part of it.

And it made me start wondering:
Why are we so much more comfortable with the idea of someone being “highly sensitive” than being Autistic?

So much of what gets described in the HSP world overlaps with the Autistic experience — sensory sensitivity, deep emotional processing, being easily overwhelmed, noticing subtleties others miss, needing calm and space. These aren’t surface-level similarities. For many people, they’re almost indistinguishable lived experiences.

And yet, I know some will say, “But Autistic people also have social communication differences, stimming, special interests, or structured routines — HSPs don’t do that.”
And yes, on the surface, that can seem true. But this is where we need to pause.

Because so many Autistic people — especially those socialised to mask from a young age — don’t actually look like the descriptions we’ve been taught.

I spent years working hard to appear socially capable, even when it was completely draining. I stim subtly — or used to hide it altogether. I have deeply focused interests that help me regulate and stay connected to myself — but they’ve usually been seen as quirks or passions rather than what they are: part of being Autistic.

A lot of what gets misunderstood or pathologised in Autistic people shows up in quieter, internal ways when someone has learned to adapt to what’s expected.

And this isn’t just about adults. It applies to children too — maybe even more so.

A child might be praised for being calm, polite, and empathetic while completely masking their sensory overload, distress with change, or social confusion. Their stimming might be hidden. Their need for structure might be misunderstood as being “fussy” or “particular.” Their intense interests might be framed as giftedness. And because they seem to be “doing fine” on the outside, we don’t always stop to ask what might be happening underneath.

So when a child is overwhelmed by noise, needs structure, feels others’ emotions deeply, or comes home from school completely burnt out — they’re often described as sensitive. And they might be. But they might also be Autistic. And if no one has made space for that possibility, we might miss the chance to truly understand and support them.

It’s also worth naming that the HSP framework — while valuable for some — has largely been shaped by white, cisgender, middle-class perspectives. That shapes who feels safe claiming it. The language of sensitivity is often more socially acceptable for some people than others. A white, middle-class child might be described as “highly sensitive” and offered compassion. A Black child showing the same reactions might be seen as disruptive. When a gender-diverse or trans teen expresses emotional distress, their sensory sensitivity or other autistic expressions may be misread as a reaction to their gender identity, rather than recognised as part of their neurodivergence and supported accordingly. A child who quietly masks their overwhelm might be praised for being “mature.” In all these cases, what’s really going on underneath can be missed. Sensitivity and being Autistic don’t always get recognised — and when they do, it’s often through a lens of bias.

That’s why I think so many of us find the HSP label first. It offers a way to make sense of ourselves without triggering all the fear, judgement, and misunderstanding that still surround Autistic identity. It’s a softer landing. But for some of us, eventually, it’s not enough. Because it doesn’t tell the whole story.

To be clear — I’m not saying all Highly Sensitive People are Autistic. Not at all. But I do wonder how many have never had the safety, the language, or the permission to explore that possibility more fully. How many have been unknowingly masking their Autistic traits because they’ve never been shown that what they’re experiencing could be something more.

For many of us, HSP was the first language that helped things make sense.
And for some, that might be enough.

But for others — like me — it eventually stopped being the full story.

Because here’s the thing: being Autistic doesn’t cancel out sensitivity.
It contains it.

Autistic people can be — and often are — deeply sensitive. Emotionally. Sensorially. Socially. Intuitively. Sensitivity isn’t a watered-down version of being Autistic. It’s part of it.

So maybe what we need isn’t more distance between the two — but more space to ask questions.
To explore without shame.
To hold the full range of how people move through the world.

There’s no perfect ‘label’. No single story. Just the deep and necessary work of understanding ourselves more fully — and allowing others to do the same.

Maybe, when someone shares that they’re Autistic, we could meet it with the same warmth we offer when someone says they’re highly sensitive.
What might that open up — for them, and for us?

If any part of this resonates, I’d love to hear from you in the comments — you’re welcome to join the conversation, if you feel like sharing. (Please ignore the name/email boxes, no need to fill them in)