If you’ve ever tried to “just focus on your breath” and ended up mentally reorganising your entire calendar, reliving a random argument from 2014, or suddenly remembering the name of that actor you couldn’t place three days ago…I see you.
Yoga is often sold as this magical key to calm, but for those of us with ADHD or other forms of neurodivergence, the quiet, slow, stillness-based version of yoga can often feel…impossible, or worse: like we’re failing at something that’s supposed to help.
But here’s the truth: yoga doesn’t have to mean silence or stillness; it doesn’t have to be rigid or performative; and it absolutely doesn’t have to be something you figure out alone.
When it’s approached with care, curiosity, and support – yoga can become a lifeline, and a way to soothe your nervous system, reconnect to your body, and finally feel like you’re allowed to take up space, exactly as you are.
Why Traditional Yoga Spaces Can Feel So Difficult
Mainstream yoga – especially the way it’s often taught in studios or on apps – doesn’t always translate well for neurodivergent folks. It’s full of unspoken rules: be still, be quiet, and we often believe we need to “do it right”.
It also may be taught in sensory-intense environments: harsh lights, loud music, mirrors, heat. It can feel overly linear, slow, or repetitive in a way that doesn’t regulate, but irritates, and worst of all: it can leave you wondering if you’re the problem.
But you’re not; it’s just that these spaces were rarely designed with our brains or bodies in mind.
You Don’t Need Fixing – You Need Support
If yoga hasn’t worked for you in the past, maybe you were trying to fit yourself into someone else’s version of it.
Maybe you were told to close your eyes when that didn’t feel safe, or you were told to be still when what your body really needed was movement. Maybe you were made to feel like fidgeting, stimming, laughing, or needing more instruction made you “disruptive” or “difficult”.
You’re not difficult. You’re different. And you’re not alone.
When you find a way of practising that meets you – not a version of you that’s quieter or more focused or more palatable to some stranger you don’t even particularly care about – something shifts. Yoga becomes a source of safety, not stress.
What Actually Helps Neurodivergent Nervous Systems
Here’s what’s helped me, and what I now offer my own students – many of whom are neurodivergent too, whether they know it or not:
- Rhythmic movement – flowy, repetitive sequences like gentle vinyāsa or rocking side to side help settle a restless mind
- Breath and sound – tools like sighing, humming, or audible exhales soothe the vagus nerve and support co-regulation
- Permission to choose – you don’t have to close your eyes, you can skip stillness altogether, and you can adapt every āsana
- Short, digestible practices – you don’t need 90 minutes; sometimes five minutes is enough, sometimes just pausing is enough
- Props and containment – bolsters, blankets, cushions, even weighted items can offer sensory feedback that helps you feel grounded and held.
Yoga doesn’t have to look or feel like what you see on Instagram; you don’t need fancy leggings, a quiet mind, or even a mat. You just need a way in.
Why It’s Harder Alone – and Why the Right Teacher Changes Everything
When you’re trying to figure it out on your own – especially with a fast-moving, nonlinear brain – it’s easy to feel overwhelmed or discouraged.
You start a YouTube video and abandon it five minutes in; you try a breathing practice and end up more agitated you roll out a mat, sit there blankly, and scroll instead.
And then comes the self-talk: why can’t I stick with anything? Why can’t I just do it properly?
This is where a supportive teacher makes a world of difference.
A teacher who understands neurodivergence won’t expect you to conform; they’ll offer structure without pressure, choices without overwhelm.
They’ll know that your needs might shift day to day – or moment to moment; they’ll welcome your fidgeting, your questions, your laughter, your “messiness”.
Because they get it. Because they’ve been there. Because they care more about you feeling safe than looking a certain way.
You’re not meant to go it alone.
How to Know If a Yoga Teacher or Space is ND-Affirming
Here are a few signs that you’re in a space that might actually support you:
- They explain things clearly, without jargon
- They invite options, not instructions: “If it feels good, try this. If not, skip it”
- They check in without pressure
- They don’t shame you for adapting, asking questions, or needing repetition
- They offer a mix of movement and stillness, and honour your choice to opt in or out
- You leave feeling more connected to yourself – not like you’ve failed
A Personal Note (Because You Deserve to Know You’re Not Alone)
I didn’t always know I was neurodivergent. I just knew that certain things – like sitting still, focusing, switching off – felt much harder for me than for other people.
I found yoga not because I was looking for mindfulness, but because I needed something. A way to feel less overwhelmed, a way to come back to myself.
I didn’t realise until much later that the practices I was drawn to – rhythmic movement, gentle repetition, soft containment – were exactly what my nervous system needed.
I didn’t “stick with it” because I was disciplined; I stuck with it because it made me feel safe, and for neurodivergent people, safety is everything.
Now, I teach in a way that offers that same support to others – because you shouldn’t have to figure this out alone.
You’re Not Broken – And You’re Not Too Much
If you’ve ever left a yoga class feeling like you did it wrong…
If you’ve ever abandoned a practice because your brain wouldn’t slow down…
If you’ve ever felt like your body, your mind, your needs are “too much”…
Please hear this:
You’re not too much. You’re not doing it wrong.
You just haven’t been offered your version of yoga yet.
One that welcomes you exactly as you are; that doesn’t demand stillness, but gently invites it. One that doesn’t try to change you, but helps you feel more you.
You don’t have to go it alone; and you don’t have to push through or mask your way through either. Support is available – and you’re allowed to ask for it.
You deserve to feel calm, clear, and connected. Not in spite of your neurodivergence – but because your nervous system matters.
If this post resonated with you, I’d love to hear from you. You can reply in the comments or send me a message – I truly mean it when I say you’re not alone.
samdyllon.com 