The Myth of the Independent Adult: How Interdependence Is Pathologized

Bridgette Hamstead

In Western culture, particularly within the United States, the concept of adulthood is tightly woven with ideals of independence, productivity, and self-sufficiency. From an early age, children are taught that growing up means doing things on your own, managing your responsibilities without help, and proving your worth through output and autonomy. These values are treated as universal goals, a kind of developmental finish line that all people are expected to cross. But for many neurodivergent people, this version of adulthood is not only unrealistic, it is actively harmful. It reduces complex human needs to checkboxes and pathologizes the interdependence that has always existed across communities, cultures, and history.

The idea of the “independent adult” is a cultural construct. It is not a biological or psychological necessity, but rather a product of Western capitalist societies that prioritize individualism and labor above community and care. In this model, being dependent on others is seen as weakness, and requiring support is viewed as failure. These assumptions are built into our educational systems, our healthcare structures, and our social services. They are reflected in how we treat disabled people, how we define success, and how we allocate resources. Within this framework, dependence is medicalized, marginalized, and stripped of dignity. This has profound consequences for neurodivergent individuals, whose support needs are often framed as burdens to be minimized or overcome, rather than natural parts of a diverse human spectrum.

For autistic people and others with neurodevelopmental disabilities, interdependence is not a flaw in development. It is a reality of our lives and relationships. Many of us function best in mutual support systems, where tasks are shared, communication is adapted, and care flows in both directions. We may need help with executive functioning, emotional regulation, sensory processing, or daily living tasks. That does not make us less adult. It makes us human. The idea that we must accomplish everything on our own in order to be respected is deeply ableist. It ignores the ways all people rely on each other, often invisibly, and it punishes those of us whose needs are simply more visible or stigmatized.

The harms of this ideology are particularly acute for late-diagnosed neurodivergent adults. Many of us spent decades internalizing the belief that we were broken because we could not meet these arbitrary standards. We learned to mask, to overextend, to push ourselves past the point of burnout in order to appear “capable” and “independent.” We took pride in being low-maintenance, even as we suffered silently. Asking for help felt dangerous. Admitting struggle meant risking judgment, abandonment, or infantilization. The result is often a deep and persistent shame, a sense that we have failed at being adults because we cannot meet a set of expectations that were never designed with us in mind.

Research supports the damage this does. Studies have shown that autistic adults experience significantly higher rates of anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation compared to the general population. A 2020 study in Molecular Autism found that over 70 percent of autistic adults reported mental health challenges, often tied to experiences of exclusion, invalidation, and unmet support needs. The emphasis on independence is part of this picture. It isolates us. It makes it harder to access care, to trust others, and to build community. When we are told we must “do it all” alone, we are set up to fail, and then blamed for that failure.

But there is another way. Interdependence is not a lesser version of adulthood. It is a form of strength, resilience, and community care. It is how many non-Western cultures have always operated, valuing communal responsibility and reciprocal support over solitary achievement. In disability communities, interdependence is a radical and necessary reimagining of how we live. It means recognizing that support is not shameful. It means building relationships where needs are met with compassion, not judgment. It means understanding that giving and receiving help are both essential parts of being in connection with others.

Reclaiming interdependence also allows us to redefine success. Instead of measuring ourselves by how many tasks we can complete without assistance, we begin to ask more meaningful questions. Are our needs being met? Are we able to live in ways that honor our energy, sensory needs, and communication styles? Do we have relationships where we can be unmasked and fully ourselves? Are we building systems that support access, rest, and dignity for all? These are the questions that matter. They reflect a values-based approach to life, one that centers care, connection, and authenticity over performance.

For neurodivergent people, reclaiming interdependence is not just empowering. It is essential. It allows us to escape the shame of not meeting impossible standards and to begin constructing lives that actually work for us. It gives us permission to rest, to collaborate, to ask for help without apology. It lets us build families, communities, and organizations that reflect our needs and strengths, rather than demanding that we contort ourselves into a neurotypical mold.

This shift requires more than just personal mindset changes. It requires systemic transformation. Workplaces must redefine what productivity means and how support is provided. Educational institutions must move away from rigid hierarchies of independence and toward collaborative learning models. Healthcare systems must be grounded in trust, accessibility, and relational care. And culturally, we must let go of the myth that being human means being self-sufficient.

We are all interdependent. None of us got here alone, and none of us thrive in isolation. The sooner we can dismantle the myth of the independent adult, the sooner we can create a world where neurodivergent people, and indeed all people, are free to live as we truly are: connected, supported, and whole.