Neurodivergent Relationships Series - Part 2: Communication - making the implicit explicit

Why We Expect Mind-Reading in Relationships (and What Happens When We Stop)

One of the most common things I hear when people talk about difficulties in their relationships is some version of:

“They don’t do this…”

“They never do that…”

“I just wish they would…”

Sometimes it’s about small, everyday things - checking in, helping out without being asked, offering reassurance. Sometimes it’s something bigger - feeling understood, prioritised, or emotionally connected.

But underneath it, the theme is often the same.

Something isn’t being met.

And my first question is usually very simple:

Do they know that’s how you feel?

Have you told them, clearly, what you need?

More often than not, the answer is some version of:

“They should just know.”

There’s something quite understandable about that.

When something feels obvious to us - especially something emotional - it can be hard to imagine that it isn’t just as obvious to the other person. If it matters to us, there’s often an assumption that it should be visible. That the other person would notice it, pick up on it, respond to it without needing to be told.

Sometimes there’s an idea sitting underneath that expectation.

That if a relationship is close enough, or strong enough, you shouldn’t have to explain yourself so much. That the other person will just get it.

You might have seen versions of that in older relationships - the sense that two people just seemed to know each other, to move in sync without needing to spell everything out.

But what’s easy to miss is how that kind of understanding develops.

It doesn’t just appear. It’s built over time - through conversations, misunderstandings, asking, adjusting, and slowly learning what matters to the other person.

Without that, people are still relying on their own frame of reference.

Their own way of interpreting things, their own assumptions about what’s obvious or important.

And what feels completely clear to one person can be something the other hasn’t even noticed.

That gap is where a lot of disappointment starts to build.

A lot of relationship difficulties sit in the gap between what is felt and what is actually said.

You might feel:

“I need reassurance.”

“I need you to check in with me.”

“I need to feel like I matter here.”

But what gets communicated, if anything, can look quite different.

It might come out as frustration, withdrawal, criticism, or silence. Or it might not come out at all.

So the other person isn’t responding to the need itself - they’re responding to whatever version of it is being expressed. And often, that version doesn’t translate in the way it was intended.

This is where the idea of making the implicit explicit becomes important.

It means putting words to the experience more directly, rather than expecting the other person to join the dots. Not assuming they already know, even if it feels like they should.

That might sound like:

“I feel a bit unsettled when I don’t hear from you - it helps if you check in.”

“I need a bit of reassurance here, even if it seems obvious.”

“It would mean a lot if you could do this, even occasionally.”

It’s simple in principle, but not always easy in practice.

For a lot of people, being that direct can feel uncomfortable, exposing, or even a bit rude. Sometimes that’s cultural - particularly in the UK, where asking directly can feel like overstepping. Sometimes it comes from experience - from having needs dismissed, misunderstood, or not met in the past.

Over time, it can feel safer to imply, hint, or hope that the other person will pick up on it.

But that often leads back to the same place - not being heard, not being understood, and not having needs met.

Being explicit about what you need isn’t about placing demands on the other person, and it doesn’t guarantee that those needs will always be met.

But it does shift something important.

It moves the relationship away from expectation and guesswork, and towards the possibility of understanding.

It also opens up space for negotiation.

For the other person to say:

“I can do that.”

“I can try.”

“I’m not sure I can do it in that way, but maybe we can find something that works.”

And that’s often where relationships start to feel more workable. Not because everything is resolved, but because things are being named more clearly.

Sometimes it helps to think of this as a shared agreement between two people.

That it’s okay to ask.

That it’s okay to get it wrong.

That it’s okay to come back and try again.

Not that either of you will always get it right, but that you’re both willing to be a bit more explicit, a bit more open, and a bit more honest about what’s actually needed.

Because when the expectation shifts away from mind-reading, something else becomes possible.

A bit more clarity.

A bit more understanding.

And, over time, a little less disappointment.