Can You Hear Me?
- Dawn Henderson
- Jun 6
- 3 min read
Can You Hear Me? | Online Therapy, Neurodivergence & the Need to Be Heard
It’s often the very first thing I say at the beginning of online sessions.
Simple. Practical. A check-in.
A way of checking we can each be heard by the other.
Sometimes there’s a pause, “hang on, it might be on my end”, and then the familiar fumbling with microphones, headsets, Wi-Fi, settings. A small disruption, but one that can bring a sudden shift in energy.
I notice it in myself too. A flicker of discomfort. Slowly becoming less intense over time, but still there. A sense of embarrassment, as if I am not fully prepared. Not fully professional. Not fully in control of the space.
And often, something interesting happens in that moment.
There can be apologising. Soft laughter. A quick attempt to smooth it over. A subtle negotiation of responsibility, whose side is it on?
A quiet, familiar choreography of blame and repair.
A way of making discomfort manageable.
But underneath it, something else is often happening:
A tendency to take ownership. To become small. To soothe the rupture before it has even fully formed.
And this is where the real work begins. can hear you apologise, take blame, create comfort, stay small.
In something as simple as “Can you hear me?”, we are already in relationship patterns:
apologising for disruption
managing discomfort
taking responsibility for things that are not ours
trying to stay “easy to receive”
This offers a space to discuss feelings of needing to take responsibility or say "sorry", for something that is not directly anyone's fault. This is where the person can be heard in the first instance,"Can you hear me?" , apologies, create comfort, take blame, make themselves small.
Over time, I’ve realised asking "can you hear me?" holds so much more than hearing and sound sound.
It is about connection.
About safety.
About whether I am landing in the other person’s world,
or
whether the distance between us is still too wide.
And it isn’t only an online question.
It lives in my face-to-face therapy room too.
For many neurodivergent people, especially those who mask heavily or carry the fear of being perceived, the beginning of a session can feel like stepping into visibility too quickly. There is often a hidden but keenly felt internal pressure:
get this right,
don’t be too much,
don’t say the wrong thing,
don’t overwhelm them,
don’t fail therapy.
So when I say, “Can you hear me?” I’m not only asking about audio.
The silent sub text I'm asking and you are too is
"Are you with me?"
"Is this space safe enough for you to arrive as you are?"
"Do you need more time before you speak?"
Because “hearing” is not just about words.
It is about the nervous system learning it does not have to perform.
And for many people I work with, being “heard” has not always been safe.
Sometimes being heard meant being corrected.
Misunderstood.
Analysed
Pathologised .
Or praised in a way that felt conditional, like approval and acceptance had to be earned.
Even receiving praise or insight can feel overwhelming when the nervous system is used to bracing for judgment. Instead of landing as warmth, it can land as pressure: now I have to maintain this version of myself.
So when I ask, “Can you hear me?” I am also asking:
"Can you receive me without having to become anything different?"
In neurodivergent experience, especially with masking, there is often a long history of adapting in order to be understood.
But therapy is not meant to be another performance space.
It is meant to be the place where you can stop translating yourself.
Where silence is allowed.
Eye contact not demanded , camera can be off, fidget toys welcome, weighted blanket available, movement welcome, dim lights.
Where confusion is allowed
.Where needing things repeated is allowed.
Where not knowing what you feel yet is allowed.
And sometimes the most important part of “hearing” is not words at all.
It is the pause.
The exhale.
The moment someone realises they are not being rushed
.
So I will often begin with:
“Can you hear me?”
But what I also really mean is:
I am here.
At your pace.
We don’t have to get this perfect
We can begin wherever you are.
And you don’t have to perform being understood in order to be met.
I meet you where you are.
