When Access is Offered With Strings Attached

A reflection on access, exclusion, and the quiet devastation of being "almost included"

A supportive moment outside a room marked 'Welcome,' highlighting that true access requires a sense of safety

You spend years waiting for the right kind of help. The kind of help that isn’t just medication, or another waiting list, or another person saying, “You seem fine to me.”

You finally get offered an intervention — something that could actually help. You prepare. You push through fear. You advocate. And then, just when it looks like you’re about to step forward, you’re told:

“You can come… but not with the support you need to feel safe.”

And just like that, the door that was almost open slams quietly shut.

This is the experience so many neurodivergent people face.

We’re not rejected with cruelty — we’re offered a space and then asked to leave our access needs outside the room. We’re told that “everyone feels anxious” or “the group dynamic can’t be changed” — as though our very real, diagnosed needs are somehow optional, or disruptive, or inconvenient.

We're told that we are the ones who aren't ready, when in reality, the space was never made ready for us.

This is a reality that many neurodivergent, disabled, and traumatised people face.

We are offered support, but only under terms that weren’t built with us in mind. Spaces that insist on uniformity, structure, and neat boundaries — where "accessibility" means the same doorway for everyone, rather than the right ramp for those who need it.

The Paradox of "Being Too Much and Not Enough"

For many of us, the message is familiar:

• You’re too anxious for the group.

• But not distressed enough to need support.

• Too articulate to need help.

• Too overwhelmed to be ready.

You mask. You regulate silently. You advocate respectfully. And still, the answer is no.

The system says: "It’s not personal. It’s about fairness."

But what’s fair about asking someone to attend something that will dysregulate them beyond coping, just to preserve a model?

To those navigating this:

At NeuroEmpowered, we believe real inclusion means:

• Reasonable adjustments are the default, not the exception.

• Access needs are not disruptions — they are invitations to adapt.

• Support is not a barrier to healing — it’s often the very reason people can show up at all.

  
  

If you’ve been told you can attend, but not with the support you need:

• You are not being unreasonable.

• You are not being dramatic.

• You are not the problem.

• You are not too much for needing support.

• You are not being difficult by asking for something that makes the difference between surviving and meaningfully participating.

• You are not selfish for wanting to be included on your own terms.

  
  

You are navigating a world that was not built with you in mind, and still trying to meet it halfway. That is courage. You are a whole person. And you deserve care that meets you, not a blueprint you were never meant to fit.

If You’re a Professional Reading This

Ask yourself:

• Have we confused uniformity with equality?

• Can our group dynamics adapt to genuine access needs?

• Are we prioritising theory over lived experience?

  
  

Inclusion is not about saying "yes" to everyone under the same terms — it’s about asking what needs to change so everyone has a chance to heal. It’s time we move beyond theoretical inclusion. It’s not enough to say, “You’re welcome,” if what we really mean is, “You can come as long as you can mask your distress, sit silently through overwhelm, and match our expectations.”

Access means removing barriers, not pretending they aren’t there. It means flexibility, not rigidity disguised as therapeutic structure. And it means listening to lived experience without assuming that distress equals inability.

A chair with others sat around and words about inclusion

If you’re someone who’s been through this:

We see you.

We know the heartbreak of being told you're too well to need support, but too complex to access it safely. We know what it's like to doubt yourself — to wonder if you're making it up, if you're asking for too much, if you're the problem.

You’re not.

You're asking for what you need to stay alive, to grow, to heal.

That is not weakness — that is wisdom.

A final word, from lived experience:

Sometimes, asking for what you need makes you feel like you’re standing alone on the edge of something huge.

But every time one of us speaks out, that edge becomes a little less sharp for the next person.

You’re not alone in this. You’re not wrong for needing what you need. You are NeuroEmpowered — even on the days it feels like the world forgot how to hold people like you.

Resources and Support

• NeuroEmpowered Resources

• Access to Work for Mental Health Support

• NSUN: National Survivor User Network

• Mind: Access and Mental Health Advocacy

• Disability Rights UK