Author: Kathy Marshack

We’ve all heard about autistic meltdowns or shutdowns. But what if those words don’t capture the full picture? What if, instead of a temporary overwhelm, there’s something more terrifying and long-lasting—something I call “brain on fire”?

This is not a metaphor. It’s real. And for some NeuroDiverse individuals, it can feel like their minds are literally burning from the inside out—overloaded, overstimulated, and pushed to the brink of collapse.

I know this intimately. Because I watched it happen to my mother.

A Memory from 1964

I was 14 when my autistic mother had what they called a “nervous breakdown.” After reading the Book of Revelations, she became overwhelmed by terror, convinced the world was ending. The minister came. Then the ambulance. She was taken to the state mental hospital.

My sister and I weren’t allowed to visit her. We sat on cold plastic-covered furniture in the lobby, surrounded by shiny checkered tile floors. I’ll never forget that feeling.

A few days later, at a school assembly, I suddenly felt like I was going to fall out of the bleachers. My eyes seemed to be spinning in their sockets. My friend Sue gently walked me down, and later a kind counselor asked what was going on. I said, “Nothing.” But then I added, “Well… my mom was taken to the mental hospital last night.”

That’s how trauma shows up. Quiet. Confusing. And too often ignored.

What “Brain on Fire” Really Means

Years later, in my work with NeuroDivergent families, I hear similar stories all the time. Stories of autistic adults who suddenly stop functioning—who become silent, catatonic, anxious, disconnected. Their loved ones are terrified and confused. Professionals don’t always understand.

One mom told me her gifted son had a neurological collapse triggered by ADHD medication. Others describe it as burnout or brain collapse. I’ve seen this happen again and again—and still, we don’t have the right words for it.

This isn’t “just stress.” It’s not depression. It’s not psychosis, either. It’s a neurological implosion caused by years of sensory overload, emotional exhaustion, and trying too hard to “pass” in a NeuroTypical world.

And it hurts. NeuroDiverse people have told me their brain feels like it’s on fire. I believe them.

Nature, Nurture, and the Blueprint

This kind of collapse is part of what I call the Blueprint—the unique mix of genetics (nature) and life experience (nurture) that shapes how autistic individuals experience the world.

My mother didn’t have the tools. No one knew what autism was in 1964. Her stress built and built until her brain couldn’t take it anymore. And as her NeuroTypical daughter, I couldn’t help her—because I didn’t know how.

Years later, I realized I wasn’t just grieving her death. I was grieving the connection we never had.

She couldn’t explain what was going on in her mind. She didn’t have the words.

But I do.

And I’m speaking for her now.

How to Help When the Brain Is on Fire

When someone’s brain is on fire, they need relief—not judgment. Here are a few starting points:

• Space and quiet
• Weighted blankets or sensory tools
• Low-stimulation environments
• Compassionate therapists who understand autism
• Family who protects rather than pushes

And most of all: we need to recognize this isn’t a personal failure. It’s not “bad behavior.” It’s not even a mental illness in the classic sense.

It’s a cry for help from a system that has been stretched too far.

Join the Conversation: After Party Live Discussion

Let’s talk about it—together.

Join me for a live After Party conversation at www.drkathylearningcenter.thinkific.com. We’ll explore this phenomenon in more depth and support each other in finding clarity, compassion, and solutions.

Questions we’ll explore:

• Have you or a loved one experienced a prolonged shutdown or “brain on fire” episode?
• How do we distinguish between autistic overwhelm and psychiatric illness?
• What signs show up before the collapse?
• What does true support look like—for both the NeuroDiverse person and their family?
• How can we build systems of safety, empathy, and understanding?

You don’t have to go through this alone. There’s a community here for you.

With love and empathy,
Dr. Kathy

We’ve talked about how masking isn’t something imposed on Autists by NT culture but a natural byproduct of autism itself. But what happens after an Autist accepts their diagnosis? Does that mean the struggles between NeuroDiverse and NeuroTypical partners, parents, and friends suddenly disappear?

Not even close. In fact, for many NeuroTypical loved ones, understanding takes much longer—and that’s the myth we’re debunking today.

The NT Struggle: Why Does It Take So Long?

For many NTs, the expectation is that once a diagnosis is in place, things should start making sense. They think, “Okay, now that we know, we can work on it, right?” But the reality is, NTs often go through their own process of grief, frustration, and even resistance.

You’ve probably heard—or even said—things like:

• “Don’t use ‘Aspergers’ as an excuse!“
• “Why doesn’t she listen to me?“
• “Can’t they learn to be polite?“
• “Why can’t they mask at home the way they do at work?“

These are not just complaints. They are cries of confusion, exhaustion, and emotional overwhelm. NeuroTypical loved ones are trying to make sense of an entirely different way of thinking and relating—often without a clear roadmap.

The Hidden Emotional Journey of NTs

Diagnosis for an Autist often brings relief—finally, an explanation for years of confusion! But for NTs, it can trigger a delayed emotional response.

Many NTs go through stages of grief similar to those who experience loss:

1. Denial – “This can’t be why we struggle! They’re just not trying hard enough.”
2. Anger – “They can mask at work, so why not with me?”
3. Bargaining – “Maybe if I explain it differently, they’ll finally understand.”
4. Depression – “No matter what I do, we’re never going to connect the way I hoped.”
5. Acceptance – “Okay, this is our reality. Now, how do we work with it?”

The truth is, this process takes time. Just as an Autist spent years unknowingly developing their own coping strategies, NeuroTypicals need time to reframe their understanding of relationships, communication, and love itself.

The Myth of ‘Trying Harder’

Another common NT frustration is the idea that if their Autistic loved one can mask at work, they should be able to do it at home. But this ignores one fundamental truth: masking is exhausting.

At work, Autists follow a structured set of rules that allow them to function. Home, however, is a complex, unpredictable emotional landscape that requires intuitive engagement—something that doesn’t come naturally. Instead of expecting their loved one to “try harder,” NTs must learn a new approach to communication that doesn’t rely on traditional social cues.

Moving Toward Radiant Empathy

So how do we bridge the gap? How do we help NTs move from frustration to understanding?

The answer lies in Radiant Empathy, the True North on the Map of Empathy Territory. It’s not about forcing either side to change who they are. It’s about finding mutual strategies that honor both perspectives. This is where tools like the 7-Step Interface Protocol come in—providing a structured way for NTs and Autists to engage without frustration, resentment, or withdrawal.

Remember, empathy is more than words—it’s a journey, a dynamic state of being. Let’s walk this path together and make the world a more compassionate place.

Until next time, take care, and keep growing.

Today, we’re not just debunking myths—we’re laying the foundation for a new way of communicating: Conversational Aspergian. Because let’s be honest—there’s a lot of misinformation out there about autism. And these myths don’t just cause confusion; they keep NeuroDiverse and NeuroTypical individuals trapped in frustration, loneliness, and blame. Healing starts with truth. And the truth is, we are all adaptable, resilient, and evolving.

You’ve heard the saying that we’re shaped by our environment, that our behaviors are a product of society’s influence. But what if that’s not the whole story? What if your behavior—whether you’re NeuroDiverse or NeuroTypical—is more deeply wired than you think?

The Science of Behavioral Genetics

The science of behavioral genetics tells us that who we are is 80% DNA and only 20% environment. That’s why identical twins reared apart from birth often grow up with shockingly similar personalities, careers, and habits—even without ever meeting.

Take the case of two identical twin men, separated at birth, reunited as adults. Both became deputy sheriffs, both married women named Betty, both had dogs named Toy, and both unknowingly built the same white circular bench around a backyard tree.

Or consider the twin sisters meeting for the first time at an airport. One arrived late, anxiously asking the gate attendant if her sister had landed yet. The attendant laughed and said, “Do you mean that woman over there with the same hairdo, the same dress, and the same string of pearls as you?”

These aren’t just charming coincidences. They reveal a deep truth about human nature: We don’t just absorb the world around us; we emerge from a biological blueprint that shapes how we think, feel, and interact from birth.

Debunking the Myth of Masking

And this is where today’s myth falls apart: No one “made” Autists mask. Masking isn’t an artificial behavior imposed by NT culture—it’s a natural byproduct of an autistic brain processing social interaction differently from birth.

NeuroTypical children develop Cognitive, Emotional, and Intuitive Empathy (the Empathy part of the Empathy Triad) instinctively. They don’t need to “learn” social interaction—it unfolds naturally. Meanwhile, NeuroDiverse children also observe social behavior—but for them, it’s about pattern recognition, deduction, and rule-following rather than intuitive connection.

The result? By adulthood, many Autists mistakenly believe that all human behavior is masking. They assume that NTs are just better at it. But this isn’t true—NTs are engaged in an entirely different process.

The Path to Healing and Radiant Empathy

So where do we go from here?

By debunking myths like these, we take the first critical step toward Conversational Aspergian. In order to truly connect—to speak each other’s language and rise to the level of Radiant Empathy—we must first challenge the misunderstandings that prevent genuine communication.

These myths create barriers between NeuroDiverse and NeuroTypical partners, keeping them trapped in patterns of frustration and isolation. Remember, empathy is more than words—it’s a journey, a dynamic state of being.

We’ve all had moments in conversation when silence falls, and we’re not sure what it means. For those of us in NeuroDivergent relationships, this silence has a name: The Pause.

At first glance, The Pause can feel like avoidance, shutdown, or even passive aggression. But it’s not. In my decades of work with NeuroDiverse couples—and in my own life—I’ve learned that The Pause is a deeply transactional moment for the NeuroDiverse person. It’s when they stop to regulate emotions, gather data, and return to their internal track of logic.

The challenge? NeuroTypicals are Empathy Triad Sensitive. We process interactional data—emotions, tone, context, and relationship history—all at once. When we speak, we expect a response that takes that into account. But for many NeuroDiverse individuals, that expectation is bewildering.

They may interpret our emotional communication as babbling, posturing, or even an attempt to control. One woman on the spectrum once told me, “It feels like you’re trying to win something.” That’s transactional thinking at work.

In my own life, I remember telling my then-husband that I was moving forward with a divorce. He paused, closed his eyes, and said, “I thought we were getting along better.” He had misunderstood my silence as peace. I had stopped talking because I was already grieving the end of our emotional connection.

That’s the heartbreak. NeuroTypicals want to be seen—not just heard. And when empathy is reduced to logic, connection can collapse.

But there’s hope. The 7-Step Interface Protocol helps bridge this divide. If NeuroDiverse individuals can use The Pause to reflect inward—not just stay on script—they can begin to understand that empathy is more than words.

The Pause isn’t the end of the conversation. It can be the beginning of a deeper one.

In previous blog posts, we talked about the power of gossip, the pain of proving the truth, the retaliation that comes when you stand for what’s right, and the unimaginable loss of parental alienation.

So now, what’s next? How do you move forward when so much has been taken from you? How do you write your own story and leave a legacy, even when the people you once loved most may never return? That’s what we’re talking about today.

The Power of Writing Your Own Story

A few months ago, a FedEx driver knocked on my door with a package. Behind me, through the window, my books were neatly arranged—my backdrop for video recordings. As I greeted him, he hesitated for a moment and asked, ‘Are you an author?’

I smiled and said, ‘Yes, but I’m not the kind of author you typically find on the Oregon Coast. I don’t write romance novels. My books are about NeuroDivergent relationships—about Autists in relationships with NeuroTypicals.’

He nodded, said ‘Oh,’ and left. That was that—or so I thought.

A week later, he returned with another delivery. It was a cold day, the roads were icy, and I stepped outside to greet him again. This time, he looked at me with a shy smile and said, ‘I’ve been listening to eight hours of your podcast while driving.’

I was stunned. I asked him, ‘You found my podcast?’

He nodded and said, ‘Yes. I’m autistic. I’ve been listening to your podcasts to help me do better with my wife.’

Tears welled up in my eyes. Here was this young man, about the same age as my daughters, learning from me—learning what I had so desperately wished I could teach my own children. In that moment, I realized something profound: My story was still reaching people, even if it wasn’t reaching the ones I had lost.

The Legacy You Leave Beyond Your Losses

My daughters may never listen to me again. They may never read my books, hear my words, or see my side of the story. But does that mean my story is over? No. Because somewhere out there, there is someone—like that young FedEx driver—who is ready to listen.

And maybe, just maybe, one day the truth will reach my daughters through someone else. Maybe it will be a friend, a partner, or even a stranger who hands them one of my books or repeats something I once said. I may not get to see that moment—but I can trust that the truth has a way of finding the people who need it.

Radiant Empathy: The Fuel for Moving Forward

Radiant Empathy is a direct result of my suffering—but it is also a testament to my refusal to give up on myself. Instead of being consumed by my pain, I transformed it into something that could light the way for others. This journey led me to write my books, to develop the Map of Empathy Territory, and to create the 7-Step Interface Protocol.

At the center of it all is Radiant Empathy, my true north. It is the understanding that we are not bound by the limitations of our past or the cruelty of others. We have the power to rise above, to connect, and to create a life filled with purpose.

One of the most profound moments in this journey came from an ASD reader who found my work inspirational and helped refine the concept of Empathy Triad Engagement. It was a reminder that healing and growth are not solitary endeavors—we learn from each other, we evolve, and we expand the reach of our understanding.

Like my rocket ship dream, Radiant Empathy is the fuel that allows us to break free from the gravity of our past and launch toward new possibilities.

Write Your Own Ending

One of my students was struggling with her life. Her choice to leave her ASD husband had been extremely painful. She asked me how she could cope with the regret and suffering and get on with her life. I looked at her, smiled, and said, ‘You have only one choice. Go Big!’

She got it. She laughed and said, ‘I can do that.’

You are not alone. Your story isn’t over. It is time to go big, because going back is not an option. You have important work to do.

In a previous blog post, we talked about the cost of exposing the truth and what happens when those in power try to destroy you for speaking out. Today, we’re diving into the most painful betrayal of all—when the people trying to hurt you use your own children as their weapon.

Parental alienation is one of the most devastating experiences a parent can endure. When a former spouse, a community, or even a legal system turns your children against you, it can feel like losing them while they’re still alive. How do you survive that? How do you move forward when the people you love most are being manipulated to see you as the enemy? That’s what we’re talking about today.

The Weaponization of Children

During my divorce, Howard didn’t just lie about me in court—he lied to our children. He convinced them that I was the enemy, that I was trying to destroy our family, that I was someone to be feared rather than loved. He told them they didn’t need special services, invalidating their struggles and making me look like I was fabricating everything.

At first, I believed that if I just kept fighting, if I just showed them enough proof, they would see the truth. But the harder I tried, the more they pulled away. The system was not built to protect parents like me—it was built to let alienation fester. And in the end, I had to face the hardest truth of all: Sometimes, you can’t save them.

The Unbearable Grief of Losing Children Who Are Still Alive

One of the most chilling moments came when Phoebe was about 21 and disappeared for several days. She didn’t return my calls or texts. I called her friends and Howard, but got no answers. They were protecting her from me.

I went into her bedroom and noticed that she had pulled up old pictures of her former boyfriend, Jared. She had moved home again after Jared had threatened to kill her by pushing her down the stairs. At that point, she decided to cut off the relationship, and I was grateful. But when I saw Jared’s picture back on her desk, I knew where she was.

I called Jared’s mother. I had called her before, and she had denied knowing where Phoebe was. This time, she didn’t answer the phone. So I sent several texts on Facebook. I was terrified that my daughter was walking back into an abusive relationship.

Eventually, Joyce responded via Facebook text. She told me that she had decided to let the two of them ‘work things out’ and hadn’t told me so that I wouldn’t interfere. I was grateful that she at least responded. I asked her to have Phoebe call me so that I knew she was okay. But I got no phone call.

So I texted Joyce again. I told her I was very worried and asked if she could impress on Phoebe that her mother was important enough to call. Joyce said she had tried, but she couldn’t control Phoebe. I understood that—but I also knew that Joyce could not be trusted because she was protecting her abusive son.

I reminded her that I was a worried mother and asked her to try again. I asked if she would feel the same way if it were her own child.

Her response? “I knew it! I knew you would show your true colors. You are as awful as everyone says you are!”

And that’s when I knew all was lost. My daughter loved an abusive man, and his mother would do anything to protect him—even if it meant lying to my daughter about me. And she carried that out for years.

Finding Peace in Letting Go

It’s a paradox: The more you step into your own truth, the more likely it is that the truth will find its way to them—one day, through someone else.

If you are facing parental alienation, I need you to hear this: You are still a mother. You are still a father. Their rejection does not erase the love you gave them. One way you can still be their mother or father is to demonstrate the resilience to carry on with your life, to become all God wants you to be. You do not have to spend the rest of your life proving your worth to children who have been turned against you. You can choose to live. You can choose to love. You can choose to be the person you were meant to be—regardless of who sees it.