20 For the Neurodivergent Reader in the Tower (Part 2 of 3)
20 For the Neurodivergent Reader in the Tower (Part 2 of 3)
May 19, 2026
Do you remember Hermey?
He’s the elf in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer who didn’t want to make toys.
He wanted to be a dentist.
And because of that – because of the way he was wired, because of what made him come alive – he didn’t fit in at the North Pole.
He ended up on the Island of Misfit Toys.
Feeling wrong.
Feeling like a mistake.
Feeling like the life everyone else seemed to inhabit so effortlessly was simply not available to him.
I’ve felt that way.
Maybe not about dentistry (actually, definitely not about dentistry) lol.
But that feeling of being made for something different – of not quite fitting the mold everyone else seemed to fill so naturally – that I understand.
And if you’re neurodivergent, I suspect you do too.
Here’s what the story gets right:
Hermey wasn’t broken.
He wasn’t a failed elf.
He was a perfectly designed dentist in a place that only had room for toy makers.
Here’s what the story gets wrong:
Santa only figured that out at the end.
God knew from the beginning.
Before you were born.
Before your first report card that confused your teacher or frustrated your parents.
Before the first time someone told you to sit still or pay attention or stop overthinking.
Before the first social situation that left you exhausted and wondering why everyone else seemed fine.
God knew exactly how He was wiring you. And He called it good.
Psalm 139:13-14 says: “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
That includes your neurodivergent brain.
Every pattern-recognizing, deep-thinking, question-asking, intensity-feeling part of it.
God didn’t make a misfit. He made you.
But What About the Choices I’ve Made?
I want to be careful here.
Because someone reading this might be thinking: “This sounds like an excuse. Like neurodivergence explains away everything.”
It doesn’t.
We all have free will.
Neurodivergent or not, we can make bad choices.
We can go against God’s design for our lives.
We can hurt people, build walls, run from community, choose isolation over vulnerability.
That’s not what I’m talking about.
What I’m talking about is something different and far more dangerous.
I’m talking about the lie the enemy plants deep in your foundation – the one that whispers you are fundamentally wrong.
Not that you made a wrong choice.
That you are wrong.
That your brain is a mistake.
That the way you process the world is a defect.
That if God really loved you He would have made you differently.
That is not a conviction from God. That is a lie from the enemy.
And here’s how you tell the difference:
God’s voice draws you toward Him.
Toward truth.
Toward healing.
Toward the person He designed you to be.
The enemy’s voice drives you away from Him.
Away from community.
Away from hope.
Away from your God-given design.
If the voice in your head is telling you that you are fundamentally broken – that is not God speaking.
God looks at the way He wired you and calls it purposeful.
Don’t mistake the enemy’s voice for God’s.
“Most People Aren’t My Kind of People”
I’ve heard this from my own kids.
Maybe you’ve thought it too.
It’s not arrogance.
It’s pain.
“Most people aren’t my kind of people” isn’t saying “I’m superior.”
It’s saying: “Most people don’t process the world the way I do.
Small talk exhausts me.
Surface-level friendships feel hollow.
I need depth, intellectual engagement, shared interest – and finding that feels impossible.”
For neurodivergent brains, social connection isn’t just harder.
It’s fundamentally different.
When you say “most people aren’t my kind of people” you’re not being elitist.
You’re grieving the difficulty of finding connection in a world that wasn’t built for how your brain works.
The Logic Chain That Traps You
One of the gifts of a neurodivergent brain is the ability to build logical chains where each link feels airtight.
You see patterns others miss.
Connect dots that seem unrelated.
Analyze systems and spot inconsistencies.
It’s brilliant. It’s one of the things that makes you valuable.
But sometimes if the first link in that chain is even slightly off, the whole structure leads somewhere false.
Here’s a chain you might be building:
I struggle to connect with people.
I can’t fit in.
Therefore I’m fundamentally broken.
Therefore no one will ever truly understand me.
Therefore I’ll always be alone.
Therefore what’s the point of trying?
Each link feels rational.
But the first link is where it breaks down.
The premise isn’t “I can’t connect.”
The premise is “I connect differently – and I haven’t found my people yet.”
That’s not a small distinction.
One leads to hopelessness.
The other leads to patience.
Proverbs 3:5-6 says: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”
I know that’s harder for you than for neurotypical people.
Your brain is wired to analyze, systematize, logic-build.
Trusting God’s plan when it doesn’t make logical sense isn’t just hard – it’s exponentially harder.
You’re not being rebellious when you ask a lot of questions.
You’re trying to reconcile a brain that demands systematic understanding with a God who often works in mystery.
But here’s what I need you to hear:
Your brilliant logical brain can become a trap when you trust your logic more than God’s truth.
Change that first link – “I connect differently and haven’t found my people yet” – and the whole chain leads somewhere different.
Not to hopelessness.
To hope.
The Castle Rooms You’ve Built
In my book I describe the castle tower as the loneliest room.
The highest point.
The best view.
The most isolated place.
You’re up there right now, aren’t you?
Watching from a distance.
Analyzing why everyone else seems to connect effortlessly while you can’t.
The tower offers perspective.
The ability to see patterns others miss.
Your neurodivergent mind notices details, connections, inconsistencies that neurotypical people overlook.
That’s a gift, not a curse.
But the tower is also the loneliest place in the castle.
The lie the tower tells: “You’re different, so you don’t belong.”
The truth: Different doesn’t mean defective. God designed your neurodivergent mind on purpose, with purpose.
Then there’s the drawbridge.
You struggle with unexpected change so you control what you can – schedules, routines, who gets access to you.
The drawbridge stays up not from pride, but from fear.
What if I let someone in and they don’t understand me?
What if I unmask and they reject who I actually am?
The lie the drawbridge tells: “If you control everything, you’ll be safe.”
The truth: Control is an illusion. Safety comes from surrendering to the One who designed you.
And the storerooms.
You struggle to process emotions in real time so you stuff them.
You intellectualize instead of feeling.
You analyze pain rather than grieving it.
Years of rejection from people who didn’t understand.
Exhaustion from masking.
Loneliness from never quite fitting in.
Shame from being told you’re “too much” or “not enough.”
The lie the storerooms tell: “If you don’t think about it, it doesn’t hurt.”
The truth: Stuffed pain doesn’t disappear. It festers.
Matthew 11:28 says: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
Jesus isn’t asking you to fix yourself before you come to Him.
He’s asking you to bring the weariness – and let Him carry it.
You Weren’t Meant to Do This Alone
God designed you for connection.
Even if it looks different than everyone else’s.
Even if it takes longer to find.
Even if your people are rare.
Your people might be online instead of in person – it’s good to have relationships with people you can meet face to face, but that’s not always available.
They might be older or younger than you.
They might be other neurodivergent people who finally get it without explanation.
They might be fewer than you hoped – but deeper than you imagined.
They exist.
They’re probably in towers too, wondering where you are.
You don’t have to become neurotypical to belong.
You don’t have to mask perfectly.
You don’t have to fix yourself.
You just have to trust that the God who wired you this way also knows where your people are.
Psalm 68:6 says: “God sets the lonely in families.”
Your community might be smaller, quieter, deeper.
But you belong. Exactly as you are. Neurodivergent brain and all.
The Tower Doesn’t Have to Be Permanent
God sees you up there.
He knows why you’re there.
He knows the masks you’ve worn and the pain you’ve stuffed and the exhaustion of trying to fit into a world that wasn’t built with you in mind.
And He’s not asking you to become someone else.
He’s asking you to trust Him.
To believe that He wired you this way for a reason.
To hold onto hope that your people exist, even when you can’t see them yet.
Come down from the tower.
Not because you’re fixed.
But because you’re loved.
Lower the drawbridge – not to everyone, but to someone.
Empty the storerooms – not alone, but with people who can handle what’s inside.
Risk being known.
Risk connection.
Risk hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’ll find someone who speaks your language.
The war is already won.
Jesus has overcome the world.
Your neurodivergent brain is part of His design, not a flaw in it.
You were never a misfit.
You were never meant for the island.
You were designed – on purpose, with purpose – by a God who knew exactly what He was doing.
And somewhere out there, your people are waiting.
If you’re struggling:
• Christian Faith-Based Resources: https://mentalhealthhotline.org/christian-faith-resources/ or call 1-866-903-3787 (24/7)
• Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741
• National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 988 (call or text)
You matter. Your neurodivergent brain matters. And you were never a misfit – you were designed. Please stay.
William James Meyer is the author of “Do You Live in a Castle? Breaking Free from the Walls That Hold You Hostage.” He writes from a Christian perspective as someone with ADHD traits who’s learning that the tower view is valuable – but community is worth coming down for.
Connect with him at www.williamjamesmeyer.com