Masking for Jesus: When Neurodivergent Kids Grow Up In Fundamentalism
Clarifying Note: Children who were raised in fundamentalist Christian environments - whether neurodivergent or not - faced similar teachings, pressures, and developmental disruptions. The distinction is not in what they experienced, but in how their nervous systems interpreted and responded to those experiences. Neurodivergent children frequently processed these environments with heightened intensity, literalness, or sensitivity, which shaped their internal world in unique ways.
Much remains to be understood about how C‑PTSD, PTSD, religious trauma, spiritual abuse and neurodiversity intersect and can be accurately distinguished from one another. This article was written with hopes to see that discussion furthered.
Neurodiverse kids with ADHD, autism, OCD, anxiety, or other neurodivergent wiring - raised in fundamentalist, high-demand Christian worlds often felt like square pegs hammered into round, heaven-or-hell holes. Your brain was doing what brains do, but the environment demanded a very specific shape: quiet, compliant, perfectly pious, always performing. When you didn’t fit, it wasn’t seen as a wiring difference. It was a spiritual defect or conversely, your masking was glorified. And that mismatch left marks that make total sense when you look back.
Neurodivergent survivors are often the first to recognize when something is wrong in a religious environment — not because they are “difficult,” but because they feel the pressure points sooner and more intensely, they recognize the patterns others don’t see yet and have the courage to speak to injustice. Their stories reveal the hidden mechanisms of spiritual harm that others overlook. That’s why it’s so important to bring this side of religious trauma and harm into the discussion.
What it felt like in real time.
If you grew up in America during the high-point of Christian fundamentalism and evangelicalism – approximately 1960-2010 give or take some years – mental health was most likely not a “thing.” Because of a disparaging view of psychology within religious spaces combined with a lack of science and understanding around neurodiversity, if you were a Christian kid in those years, you probably didn’t receive any kind of neurodiverse diagnosis or accommodation for your unique self.
Picture being five, seven, ten years old in a world where church wasn’t one hour on Sunday—it was your entire universe. Services and events three or four times a week. Sunday School. Bible drills. Prayer meetings. Youth group. AWANA. Mission trips. Every minute accounted for, every thought policed for purity. For a neurodiverse kid, that wasn’t just busy. It was sensory hell wrapped in holy wrapping paper.
If you were ADHD-wired, sitting still through a two-hour sermon felt like asking a tornado to whisper. Your legs bounced. Your mind raced to the next question, the next shiny distraction, the injustice of whatever rule felt unfair. Adults didn’t see executive function overload. They saw disrespect. “Sit still. Pay attention. This is God’s house.” You internalized: My body betrays me. My energy is sin. Maybe you got the look, the swat, the “you’re too old for this” lecture. Shame settled in deep—your natural rhythm wasn’t just inconvenient; it was ungodly.
OCD or scrupulosity kids felt it differently but just as brutally. An intrusive thought—“Did I mean that prayer? Was that doubt from Satan?”—could spiral into hours of compulsive confessing, rebaptizing, altar calls. You weren’t anxious; you were “convicted.” Not overwhelmed; “sensitive to the Spirit.” Praise rained down for your “seriousness about holiness,” but inside you were drowning. Every unconfessed “sin” felt like a one-way ticket to eternal fire. Hell wasn’t abstract theology; it was your daily terror, fed by a system that called obsession faithfulness.
Autistic or sensory-sensitive kids masked like their lives depended on it—because in some ways, they did. Unspoken social rules? Unbearable noise of crying babies and off-key worship? Textures of scratchy polyester dresses or hymnals? You powered through, scripting responses, memorizing what “good Christians” said and did. Your hyperfocus on Scripture or rules got called “mature beyond your years.” Your rigid adherence to dress codes or quiet times? “Such obedience or a servant’s heart.” But the meltdown waiting at home - sensory overload, eating sensitivities, shutdown, rage at a changed routine, finding quiet spaces or vegging out - got labeled rebellion, anger issues, or most extreme: demonic influence. Belonging or acceptance meant erasing yourself, leaving the children to suffer the consequences of their parents’ toxic or uneducated beliefs, which had been greatly influenced by their church or faith community.
What is neurodiversity?
Neurodiversity is the idea that human brains naturally vary in how they think, learn, feel, and process the world and that this variation is a normal part of human biology, not a problem to be corrected. Some people have nervous systems that are more sensitive, more analytical, more pattern‑driven, or more easily overwhelmed, and these differences shape how they communicate, focus, and move through daily life. The neurodiversity framework helps us shift from asking “What’s wrong with this person?” to “How does this person’s brain work, and what support helps them thrive?” It’s a way of understanding that diversity in brain function is just as real and meaningful as diversity in culture, personality, religious (or other) beliefs and physical ability.
In current diagnostic frameworks, many clinicians no longer rely solely on specific labels and instead describe support needs using a three‑level system. These levels don’t measure intelligence or worth - they simply indicate how much day‑to‑day support a person may need.
Level 1: Requires minimal support. People at this level often mask well, compensate socially, and appear “fine” to outsiders, even while struggling internally with sensory overload, executive functioning, or social fatigue.
Level 2: Requires moderate support. These individuals may need more consistent accommodations, have more visible differences in communication or regulation, and may struggle to mask for long periods.
Level 3: Requires substantial support. People at this level typically need significant, ongoing assistance with communication, daily living, or sensory regulation.
Many of the adults I’ve encountered who have or are leaving Christian fundamentalism fall into Level 1. Not because their needs were small, but because their ability to mask was strong. They learned early - often out of necessity - to camouflage their overwhelm, mimic expected behaviors, and push themselves into compliance. Fundamentalist environments reward quietness, self‑control, and sameness, so Level 1 neurodivergent children often become experts at blending in just enough to avoid punishment or scrutiny. Their struggles were invisible, even to themselves, until adulthood gave them the language to understand what their nervous system had been carrying all along.
Masking, But Make It Spiritual
Many neurodivergent adults describe learning to “mask” long before they knew the word for it. In religious settings, masking often becomes spiritualized:
“Be quiet.”
“Be good.”
“Be grateful.”
“Be still.”
“Don’t question.”
“Don’t feel too much.”
“Don’t need too much.”
“Do it for God.”
These aren’t just behavioral expectations — they become moral ones.
A neurodivergent child who struggles with sensory overwhelm, emotional intensity, or social cues may internalize these messages as evidence that something is spiritually wrong with them. Not developmentally different - spiritually defective.
This is where religious trauma often takes root: not in a single event, but in the slow erosion of a child’s right to be themselves.
How the fundamentalist machine amplified everything.
Fundamentalism doesn’t bend. It breaks what doesn’t fit. High-demand Christianity doubles down: salvation is binary (saved/lost), behavior is observable (fruit of the Spirit or works of the flesh), and performance proves piety. For neurodiverse kids, this was a pressure cooker.
Your natural intensity? Not a feature, a flaw. The hyperfocus that let you devour theology books or debate doctrine into the ground wasn’t celebrated as genius - it was either pride, argumentativeness, “dividing the body” or celebrated as commitment to truth, God and a holy-set-apart life. The people-pleasing that made you the perfect children or youth group helper? Exploited until burnout, then questioned when you finally cracked: “Where’s your joy in serving?”
Perfectionism wasn’t just encouraged; it was eternal life or death. One wrong thought, one missed quiet time, one skirt too short—straight to wrath. Neurodivergent brains already run hot on doubt loops and what-ifs; layer on original sin and total depravity, and you’re not a kid. You’re a walking time bomb of damnation.
Rest? Sinful laziness. Special interests outside church? Worldly distractions. Needing alone time to recharge? Selfish isolation. Something bad happens to you? You must have sinned and this was a consequence. Your needs weren’t accommodated; they were indicted. And there was a Bible verse or theology to prove it all.
The body keeps the score—neurodiverse edition.
Your nervous system didn’t forget. That’s why church smells, hymns, or phrases like “submit joyfully” might still hit like trauma triggers. Here’s what got wired in:
Fear of being “found out.” You learned your authentic self—fidgety, questioning, intense, quirky, observant—was incompatible with godliness. So, you masked harder, performed longer, until exhaustion became your normal. Now, dropping the mask as an adult feels terrifying—like if they see the real you, rejection (or hell) follows.
Shame as default operating system. Every natural trait got moralized. Blurting out questions? Disrespectful. Questioning authority? Rebellious. Needing routine? Self-centered. Melting down? Ungrateful. Unlearning that your neurology isn’t a character flaw takes years, because the fundamentalist voice in your head whispers you’re still not enough.
Burnout as spiritual failure. Neurodiverse kids often over-index on “fruit of the Spirit”—self-control, faithfulness, gentleness—because we could perform those. Until we couldn’t. When the tank hit empty, it wasn’t seen as human limits. It was backsliding. No wonder rest still feels like quitting on God.
Doubt as danger. Fundamentalism hates ambiguity; many neurodiverse brains crave it or wrestle it publicly. Your questions weren’t welcomed as faith wrestling—they were “doubter,” “cynic,” potential heretic. Now, even safe spiritual spaces might feel risky.
When “Sin” and “Symptoms” Get Confused
One of the most painful patterns survivors describe is how their neurodivergent traits were interpreted as spiritual failures:
Anxiety was labeled “lack of faith.”
Sensory overload was called “overreacting.”
Emotional intensity was framed as “rebellion.”
Difficulty with transitions became “disobedience.”
Literal thinking was dismissed as “missing the point” or “false doctrine.”
Meltdowns were punished as “tantrums” or “defiance.”
Instead of receiving support, these children received correction. Instead of being understood, they were disciplined. Instead of being guided, they were shamed.
This confusion between neurology and morality leaves deep marks. Many neurodivergent adults spend years untangling what was a spiritual teaching from what was simply their brain doing what their brain does.
Before We Had the Language: Parenting a Neurodivergent Child in Fundamentalist Spaces
Parents were often caught in the crossfire, too. Instead of receiving support, many found themselves scrutinized, whispered about, or quietly blamed. They became the parents who got the funny looks, the unsolicited advice, the patronizing reminders to “train up their child,” or the thinly veiled warnings that their child’s behavior reflected their spiritual or character shortcomings. In many communities, they were labeled as “those parents” with “that child” - a shorthand that carried judgment, isolation, and shame.
Layered onto this was a culture that prized instant obedience and unquestioned conformity. Some parents enforced harsh discipline because they believed it was required of them spiritually and in order to save their children’s souls; others did so simply to survive the social pressure of being watched, evaluated, and corrected by their community. When a child’s neurology made quick transitions, quiet compliance, or emotional regulation difficult, parents were often pushed toward stricter measures - not because they lacked love, but because the system demanded visible control. The expectation was clear: a “good” child obeys immediately, and a “good” parent ensures it. A “disobedient” or misbehaved child meant sin or sin nature was at work, and that sin must be dealt with.
For parents who were doing their best with limited information and no language for neurodivergence, the lack of support was devastating. Their concerns or questions were minimized. Their instincts were questioned. Their attempts to advocate for their child were interpreted as permissiveness or rebellion against the community’s “Christian” norms. Instead of being met with curiosity or compassion, they were met with pressure to discipline more, pray harder, or “get their house in order.”
This left many parents navigating their child’s needs alone, without resources, without understanding, and without the communal care that faith communities often promise but did not extend to them. And for some, the grief of realizing later that their child’s neurology - not their parenting or child’s sinful nature - was the issue is a wound they are still tending.
Why untangling this feels impossible.
Here’s the cruel genius of fundamentalist-high-demand-neurodivergent cocktail: nothing was named. No pediatrician said “ADHD.” No therapist said “scrupulosity OCD.” Just pray harder, try harder, submit harder. So now you’re deconstructing two systems at once: toxic theology and undiagnosed neurology.
Was my intensity spiritual gifting or bipolar?
My rituals devotion or OCD?
My social struggles pride or autism?
My crashes weakness or demon oppression?
The answer is usually both/and. Your brain was always neurodivergent. The system exploited it, shamed it, rewarded the “useful” parts, punished the rest. Healing means claiming both truths: I was failed by fundamentalism. My neurodiverse wiring is also made in the image of God.
Boys Got Grace, Girls Got Shame: Neurodiversity in Gendered Faith
High-control fundamentalist environments already gendered every expectation, but for neurodiverse kids, the boy/girl divide amplified the mismatch in brutal ways. Boys and girls were given different scripts for their wiring—and different punishments when they didn’t perform.
Boys: intensity praised (until it wasn't)
Neurodiverse boys often got a strange kind of grace that girls never saw. Your intensity, physicality, and leadership impulses? Sometimes they got channeled into "godly manhood” or how “God will use you.”
Those ADHD energies and hyperfocus traits turned into fiery preaching, worship leaders, debate club apologetics, or youth group "warrior" energy. Autistic pattern-spotting? Perfect for dissecting doctrine or building church programs.
For a while, this felt like acceptance. Pastors slapped your back: "You're going places for God." But the fundamentalist leash was always there. When your intensity tipped into anger, debate turning combative, or leadership feeling "too strong," suddenly it was "prideful." "Domineering." "Unsubmissive." Your wiring went from asset to a church or denomination liability overnight.
OCD boys got similar mixed signals. Obsessive rule-keeping made you the perfect deacon's son, but meltdowns over "sin" or rigid doctrine adherence got called "legalistic" or "Pharisee-like." You learned your value hinged on channeling intensity "the right way"—toward conquest, not questions.
The pressure? Channel your neurodiverse fire productively, or you're wasted potential headed for backsliding. Restless boys weren't "rebellious" (like girls)—they were "undisciplined" future leaders who needed "sharpening."
Girls: intensity silenced (always)
Neurodiverse girls faced a different cage. Fundamentalism demanded stillness, deference, modesty, nurture. Your wiring clashed harder.
ADHD girls learned early to mask fidgeting, blurting, impulsivity. Sitting still through services wasn't just hard—it was sinful for girls to be "distracted" or "boyish." Your energy got called "unladylike," "hormonal," "needing discipline." Where boys channeled movement into sports, girls got "sit like a lady" lectures and shame for existing too large.
OCD/scrupulosity hit girls brutally. Endless confessing, purity obsessions, perfectionism about modesty rules? Perfect "godly womanhood." But the internal torment—fear of accidental sin, compulsive checking—wasn't helped; it was praised. "Such a gentle, convicted spirit." Girls' anxiety became the model of submission while boys' got channeled outward.
Autistic girls mastered masking earlier, harder. Social confusion? Study Proverbs 31 women obsessively. Sensory issues? Suck it up for "help meet" training. Special interests in theology or leadership? Redirect to children's ministry or women's Bible studies. Your intensity got squeezed into "helper" roles where girls "belonged."
When neurodiverse girls did show intensity—questioning doctrine, rejecting purity rules, refusing to shrink—the hammer fell fast. Not wasted potential, but "Jezebel," "rebellious," "feminist influence," "unsubmissive heart." Girls weren't allowed to burn bright. Girls were meant to burn out quietly.
The double bind wired deep
Boys learned: "My intensity is godly if I aim it right." Girls learned: "My intensity is ungodly, period." Both messages distorted self-understanding.
Neurodiverse boys now wrestle "Am I still too aggressive? Too domineering?" Neurodiverse girls wrestle "Am I allowed to take up space? Have opinions? Lead?"
Fundamentalism gendered your neurology before you understood either. Boys got a wider lane (with guardrails). Girls got a narrow path with "feminine" landmines everywhere. Both learned their authentic wiring threatened salvation.
Healing the gendered wiring
Neurodiverse fundamentalist girls: Your shrinking wasn't holiness. It was survival. You get to expand now—fidget, question, lead, rest—without apology.
Neurodiverse fundamentalist boys: Your intensity was never pride. It was power placed in a system that both used and feared it. You get to soften, rest, connect without performance.
Your gender doesn't dictate your wiring's worth. The fundamentalist world gendered God's image in you. Your healing reclaims the full, ungendered, neurodivergent glory you were always meant to be.
The Silent Risk No One Saw
Neurodivergent children are also statistically more vulnerable to abuse - this is now a well documented pattern. Research shows that neurodivergent youth, especially those with disabilities or sensory, communication, or regulatory differences, experience higher rates of adverse childhood experiences and are disproportionately targeted for mistreatment. Studies also highlight that neurodivergent children are more likely to be victimized in institutional environments, where misunderstanding compounds their vulnerability. In spiritually abusive or high‑control religious systems, these risks are amplified.
A child who struggles with transitions, sensory overwhelm, or emotional regulation is more easily labeled as “defiant,” “rebellious,” or “in need of discipline,” making them a target for harsher treatment. When a community interprets neurological differences as moral failures, it not only misreads the child—it fails to protect them. The very traits that make neurodivergent children more susceptible to manipulation, coercion, or punishment become the traits most likely to be spiritualized, pathologized, or punished. In this way, toxic religious systems replicate the same patterns seen in other abusive environments: they overlook, misunderstand, and ultimately endanger the children who most need support.
The Developmental Cost of Being Misunderstood
When a child’s needs are consistently misinterpreted, several developmental milestones can be disrupted:
Emotional regulation becomes tied to fear rather than safety.
Identity formation becomes shaped by what they must hide to survive.
Autonomy becomes dangerous instead of developmental.
Curiosity becomes rebellion instead of exploration.
Belonging becomes conditional instead of secure.
These disruptions don’t disappear in adulthood. They echo in relationships, self‑trust, spirituality, and the ability to feel safe in one’s own body.
You get to rewrite the ending.
Neurodiverse fundamentalist kid: you survived a world that called your humanity broken. You weren’t defective. You were dynamite in a dynamite-defying world.
Your intensity? Sacred fire, not flesh.
Your questions? Courage, not rebellion.
Your needs? Natural limits, not laziness.
Your wiring? God-breathed diversity, not depravity.
You deserve spaces where your brain thrives, not just survives. Churches that celebrate “weird” as image-of-God. Friends who don’t moralize your meltdowns. A spirituality that holds mystery, not just mandates.
Nothing about being neurodivergent disqualifies you from love, calling, or healing. The fundamentalist world lied. Your body remembers the truth. Now you get to live it.
This article is not intended to treat or diagnose any condition.
Rebekah is not a licensed therapist or clinician. Any thoughts, opinions or resources given on this site are strictly her own observation and insights based on personal experiences and study. It should in no way take the place of professional assistance.