Making NDE Support Groups Neurodivergent-Affirming: A Reflective Call to Conscious Inclusion
Support groups for individuals who have experienced near-death experiences (NDEs) hold immense potential for healing, integration, and connection. For those of us who have returned from such a profound threshold, finding spaces that honour our experiences with sensitivity and care is vital. Yet, these spaces must also reckon with the reality of our intersectional identities. As a neurodivergent NDEr, I recently witnessed how quickly harm can arise when neurodiversity is neither understood nor respected—and it left me shaken.
During a recent NDE support group meeting, a non-NDEr was permitted to participate. While non-experiencers can offer valuable perspectives when their presence is appropriate, this particular encounter served as a stark reminder of what is at stake. The individual spoke at length about their autistic adult-child in a way that framed neurodivergence as a pathetic tragedy, something broken, something to mourn, something sub-human, something pitiful and wrong. As an autistic person myself, I sat there stunned. My body felt frozen. I wasn’t simply listening to a story—I was watching someone speak of people like me in a way that erased my humanity, right in a space meant for shared healing.
This experience called me to reflect more deeply on how we define safety and inclusivity in NDE support settings, and what it means to create truly neurodivergent-affirming spaces. It became clear that good intentions are not enough. Without proactive education, boundaries, and values rooted in affirmation rather than tolerance, even the most well-meaning groups can become spaces of traumatisation.
What Is Neurodivergent-Affirming Practice?
A neurodivergent-affirming space recognises neurodiversity as a natural and valuable part of human variation. It rejects pathologising or deficit-based models, and instead celebrates different ways of sensing, processing, feeling, and communicating. In practice, this means:
· Using respectful language: Identity-first language (e.g., "autistic person") is often preferred, though individuals’ preferences vary. Avoiding language that casts neurodivergence as a burden or problem is essential.
· Creating accessible group formats: Providing structured agendas, clear communication, low-sensory environments, and space for alternative communication styles.
· Honouring different processing speeds: Giving time to respond, avoiding interruption, and being patient with varied expressions of emotionality.
· Rejecting assumptions: Not assuming a person’s inner life or capacity based on how they present.
Why NDE Support Groups Must Be Neurodivergent-Affirming
For many neurodivergent individuals, an NDE doesn’t just reframe life—it often reveals deeper truths about being. After returning, some of us feel more in tune with subtle energy, more sensitive to our surroundings, and more at odds with a world that demands conformity. This can amplify the challenges we already face navigating neurotypical environments.
When we enter a support group, we come seeking resonance. We come hoping for a place where our experiences are understood, not just as NDErs but as whole people. If the group tolerates dismissive or pathologising narratives about neurodivergence, it betrays its own purpose.
What Went Wrong: A Case Reflection
In the group I attended, the facilitator did not intervene when harmful language about Autism was used. This silence—intentional or not—communicated complicity. It told me that my identity as a neurodivergent person was invisible, unprotected. The non-NDEr's story might have been shared from grief, but it was presented through a lens that reduced their adult child’s life to a tragedy. I left the meeting feeling unseen, exhausted, nauseas, and deeply wounded.
This wasn’t just a difficult conversation—it was a rupture in trust. It violated the safety that support groups are meant to uphold. When someone speaks about a marginalised identity in a dehumanising way, and no one responds or redirects, the space becomes complicit in harm.
Shifting Toward Neurodivergent-Affirming Spaces: What’s Needed
If NDE support groups are to be truly inclusive, they must actively commit to becoming neurodivergent-affirming. This involves clear structures, accountability, and education. Here are key steps to begin that shift:
1. Establish a Group Values Statement
Create a living document that outlines values like neurodiversity affirmation, trauma-informed practice, and spiritual inclusivity. This provides a foundation for decision-making and conflict resolution.
2. Implement Training for Facilitators
Facilitators should receive basic training in neurodiversity, inclusive language, and how to manage harmful discourse sensitively. This empowers them to respond in real-time when issues arise.
3. Set Clear Participation Boundaries
Define who the group is for. If non-NDErs are permitted to attend, outline specific guidelines about how they participate, and what kinds of contributions are appropriate.
4. Introduce a Code of Conduct
This should include expectations around respectful communication, including how to speak about race, gender, disability, neurodivergence, and spirituality. Reinforce that pathologising or dehumanising language is not acceptable.
5. Provide Opt-Out Mechanisms
Allow members to step away or request a pause if a conversation becomes triggering. Normalise emotional responses and validate boundaries.
6. Develop an Accountability Process
Offer a confidential feedback or grievance process so that group members can report concerns and receive follow-up support.
7. Model Affirming Language
Facilitators and seasoned group members can model inclusive language and neurodiversity-affirming narratives, shaping group culture over time.
When Harm Happens: Repair and Integrity
No group will get it perfect. What matters most is how harm is addressed.
Repair requires more than apologies. It involves visible changes in how a group operates. It means centring the voices of those harmed and acting on their feedback—not just offering sympathy, but taking meaningful steps toward safety and affirmation.
The Larger Vision: A Culture of Conscious Support
NDEs show us what matters. They strip away illusion and reveal the essence of connection, love, and truth. Our support spaces must reflect that wisdom. If we fail to bring the same reverence to each other as we did to the light, what are we really honouring?
Being neurodivergent-affirming is not about being politically correct. It’s about honouring the full humanity of everyone in the room. It’s about recognising that someone’s spiritual transformation doesn’t erase their neurodivergence—it’s intertwined with it.
I share my reflection here not to criticise, but to invite growth. To urge every facilitator, every group member, and every organiser of NDE support spaces to pause and ask: Who feels safe here? Who might not? What can we do to change that?
When we make our groups consciously inclusive, we don’t dilute the sacred—we deepen it. We widen the circle of love. We make space not only for the story of death and return, but for all the identities we carry as we walk back into life.
Let us commit, together, to making NDE support groups not just spaces of healing—but of dignity, authenticity, and belonging for all who come seeking light after the dark.
