Dr Emma Svanberg: clinical psychologist and author

A fascinating insight into how it feels for a clinical psychologist to discover their own neurodivergence, many years into their career. Emma talks autism, ADHD and being twice-exceptional.

I first came across Emma Svanberg on Instagram (@mumologist). I loved the way she spoke about womanhood, motherhood and parenting. Soon, I was calling on her for expert comment for articles and books I was writing.

When Emma started to write about autism, having discovered she was autistic, I became even more interested in her writing, and work. I subscribed to her Substack, Un-Normal, and joined her Facebook group for parents of neurodivergent children.

Here, I ask Emma about her upbringing, education, the social side of life, moving into a career, motherhood and - of course - neurodivergence.

What was your upbringing like?

In many ways a very typical 80s childhood with lots of time wandering outside on my own or with friends. I am mixed race - neither of my parents are English - and that was influential in always feeling somewhat of an outsider.

But it was a privileged upbringing, with two parents who wanted good things for me, an incredible sibling, a safe community and access to outside space, to educational resources and supportive services.

How did you find school?

When I think of school, the main feeling I have is one of apprehension. I was academically able, and worked hard but often felt (and often was) forgetting something important.

The first school I attended had a more pressured, competitive environment. I found that incredibly constricting and couldn't really make sense of it. It felt a bit like a machine, producing a very particular type of child and I knew I didn't fit that mould.

I moved schools, under my own steam midway through GCSEs and that school was much more flexible in their approach. There was a particular teacher there who really understood me, and I think of her often. 

What were you like, as a child?

Honestly, I was probably pretty annoying. I imagine I was a bit of a know-it-all, I had very strong opinions about things (not much has changed there) and I wore my heart on my sleeve a lot. I was also very caring, and loved my friends deeply, and didn't always understand that might be a bit... intense. 

How did you find the social side of life?

I had friends, I generally was seen as popular I think, but I often felt like I was floating around between groups of people at school.

Looking back, I know I invested a lot of energy in what I now know was masking - and there was of course a cost to that.

As I got older, I would have to recover from school but, as I was often home alone after school (standard 90s latchkey kid), that was something others didn't really see. 

What was higher education like for you?

I loved it. During my sixth form years, I decided to do an extra A-Level (I know) that I couldn't do at school and attended an evening intensive course at a local college. It was a total revelation to me to be in a room with adults who genuinely wanted to learn, and that way of learning (intensive, quick, often self-guided) really suited me. 

At university, the trust placed in me to organise myself and direct my own learning meant that I might (often did) dive down rabbit holes and get really immersed in a topic. I was often distracted in lectures, but some of my tutors were very inspiring. 

I realise now that, quite typically for someone with my neurodivergent profile, I jumped around a lot between passions. I did a year of an English degree, then switched to psychology, then took a year off to volunteer in a mental health day centre and then in Calcutta, and then came back to complete my degree.

That flexibility really suited me, and being encouraged to do deep dives into my special interests was brilliant. I went to a creative university which was very arts-focused and sometimes eccentric, and I felt very at home there. 

My doctorate was a different story.

Clinical psychology can be a rich and fascinating topic, and it can also be dry and self-important. We learned about the depths of the human psyche, but often without the depth and the heart that I wanted, and with little acknowledgement of the toll it took on trainees.

Thankfully, I got that heart from my peers, as well as certain tutors and placement supervisors.

I think I was surprised that it felt less of a vocation, and more a professional qualification with hoops to jump through. To me, psychology has always been about human connection.

How did you feel, as you started your career?

Probably a little disillusioned but I went straight into working for a service where I had worked as a trainee, which I loved. I worked in SureStart, working with pregnant people, new parents and babies as well as alongside other professionals.

Working as a therapist - doing individual, couple and group therapy - was varied and rewarding. I also, I realise now, really thrived on the variety of the work. I had a 'patch' and spent a lot of my day walking between centres and sitting on the floor with babies and very little time sat at a desk.

I was determined to make an impact, I think, and threw myself into my role.

What has motherhood been like, so far?

Always a journey. I have learned so much about myself during my years as a mother. It has changed me, sometimes to the extent I don't recognise who I was before becoming a mother. 

When did you start to wonder if you might be neurodivergent?

Like so many people, I began to look into neurodivergence as part of my parenting journey and recognised many traits in myself.

I had a really old-fashioned view of neurodivergence, and my training (and I guess the understanding of autism, particularly when I trained) presented ADHD and autism in particular ways which I did not relate to at all.

ADHD, if I'm honest, made me think of hyper little boys, and autism was non-speaking children, and tech bros.

My one experience of autism was on a placement where Applied Behavioural Analysis and social skills training was still viewed as the predominant 'intervention' for autism.

As understanding of neurodivergence widened, largely thanks to the work of people with lived experience challenging professionals like me, and I started to access more of that information, lots of lightbulbs went off.

I first looked into ADHD, and discussed this with colleagues who were a bit, 'um, no kidding' but then started looking more into autism and internalised presentations in particular, and that was when things fell into place much more.

I am now identified as 'twice exceptional' - that is AuDHD and gifted.

How did you feel, when it was confirmed?

Mixed.

The ADHD diagnosis brought some grief at the labels I was given and gave myself, and the impact of those labels on my sense of self.

The autism diagnosis was a relief, and led to a huge period of change for me.

And discovering giftedness has been the last piece of the puzzle. 

Understanding systems thinking and meta thinking - and understanding, too, that most people don't think this way - has been a revelation to me. 

I was also angry at my profession for a long time.

Many colleagues and practitioners dissuaded me from exploring autism for our family - I got the impression it was a label we most definitely didn't want. But it has offered an understanding and led to changes that wouldn't have happened without that understanding.

And so many psychology models don't acknowledge, and even can be harmful, to autistic people. I felt like I wanted to apologise to so many of my past clients for not knowing about aspects of them that were so crucial to their experience of the world. 

How does it manifest?

Oh, what a question. The key things that I think come from my different 'labels' are hyperempathy, novelty-seeking and meta-thinking.

I am very sensitive to other people's nervous system states, and that is something that helps in my profession but can be a pain in the arse in the rest of my life.

I have learned to go along with my flights of fancy and dives into topics or interests, but understand that they might not last. I have also learned not to commit to those flights of fancy but to give myself a bit of time to see if they stick (I love the phrase 'my ADHD writes cheques my autism can't cash').

And I'm figuring out how to make the most of my firework brain that thinks a million different thoughts at once, without burning out. 

Can you tell us about the work you do now?

I recently came across the work of Emilie Wapnick and the concept of multipotentiality, and I think that describes my work quite aptly. I have a few different jobs.

I have recently started offering therapy again, after processing my frustration at my own profession and the limitations of it, but taking into consideration some of the learnings of the past few years.

Part of this has been embracing paradigm shifts as a major focus of my work. 

I founded the Psychology Co-operative, and I direct that alongside my colleague Dr Bekah Shallcross. We are currently focusing on disrupting the status quo in therapy, and helping people to make changes in their own lives within systems (like patriarchy, white supremacy, ableism, capitalism, neuro-normativity...) that can affect their mental health. 

I also do the admin for the Psychology Co-operative, which is one of those things you're not 'meant' to do as a Director but I love it, it means I get to speak to all of the people who contact us for therapy and I find it a soothing task.

I give talks, do workshops and run courses. 

Part of my work in my various jobs has always been about bringing people together, and building communities. We have our brilliant Co-operative community of therapists, who are just the most inspiring and energising group.

And I have been running the Village parenting Community for nine years now, which is just the most supportive place full of solidarity and reassurance.

And I am having a play around with Instagram at the moment, and really value the conversations I have there. 

I write - at the moment, my own Substack which is a bit sporadic, but I've also been working on a collection of short stories. 

And mostly, we are unschooling now as a family so all of that work that I just mentioned happens around that.

Does your neurodivergent mind help you with your work?

Definitely. I mean, it's a help and a hindrance.

It helps because I feel like my empathy, my tendency to look for patterns and my quick thinking all really help me as a therapist. I care deeply about my clients and my work, and I find it very rewarding to walk alongside people and come to a shared understanding of some of the patterns in their lives that are holding them back.

It's a hindrance, because I can see the limitations in my work, the obstacles that people face that are nothing to do with their psyche and everything to do with the world around them and the lack of support for people. 

What challenges does it bring?

I think, like many neurodivergent people, I have often been comfortable near the cliff edge of burnout, and fallen off that cliff many times.

Before exploring neurodivergence, I saw that driven, passionate, hyperfocus place as my optimal state and I used to dread the inevitable fall out of that and, frankly, see it as a massive inconvenience that I needed to figure out how to fix.

Now that I understand how I operate, I see the burnout and the hyperfocus as two sides of the same coin. You don't get one without the other. So I have learned to moderate myself - or if I want to get really into something and let myself hyperfocus, I need to prepare for the inevitable recovery.

How do you spend your time, when you’re not working?

So at the moment, this is sort of the opposite way round for me. Most of my time is spent pottering about with my kids and dealing with the constant mundane tasks of having a home. Work fits around that, and I really enjoy my work so it's also my hobby. I read books about trauma and look up training courses that I'd like to do. I'm a real laugh.

Anything else you’d like to share about yourself, autism, work, motherhood, neurodivergence?

I think discovering my autistic identity for me has opened up so much more. There was something for me in knowing that I didn't fit, and that I was never going to fit, that allowed all these walls to come down. Walls about education, about relationships, about work.

I know that for many of the people reading, they might be in that agonising place of struggle with their children and it is such a hard and long and confusing journey, but there is a beautiful and hopeful and positive identity and life on the other side of that. You just need to trust yourself, and your child. 

dremmasvanberg.com