Case Study: Attending choir as a neurodivergent singer (guest blog)

Meet Sarah...

​November 2024 was a rather important month for me. It was on the 6th that, at 35 years old, I finally got my autism diagnosis. The sense of relief I felt after that phone call was immense; there were a lot of tears, both happy and sad. After years and years of believing I was a failure, that it was all my fault, I had an official diagnosis. I’m not broken; I’m just me. For so long, especially in secondary school, I had been punished for falling behind, for forgetting homework, for getting easily distracted. Not once did they ask why. I learnt to hide my ‘quirks’ (what I’d later learn to be stims) for fear of being bullied, and tried so hard to be ‘normal’. The mask I built was heavy and painful. But now I had a reason for it all, I had permission to be me, to be different. (And, since writing this post, have also had my ADHD diagnosis, too!).
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November was also around about the time I started singing with a local choir run by my singing teacher, Emma [Rowland-Elsen, of this website].

​Here's my story.

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​Music is a huge part of my life; singing is so important to my mental health but had suffered and become rusty through years of depression. Emma helped me get back on track and find my love for it again. She also had arranged one of my own pieces for her choir and asked if I’d sing the solo part. To say I was terrified is perhaps an understatement; years of severe unmanaged social anxiety and Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) meant I struggled with new situations, with the constant fear that I’d be rejected for my unusual mannerisms or that I was intruding where I didn’t belong. No matter how much someone tells you that’s not true, those little voices can be deafeningly loud!

But my fears that I’d battled for so long had no place in this choir. I was immediately accepted as I was, I didn’t need to mask, I didn’t need to pretend to be someone I wasn’t just to fit in, I could just be me and no one batted an eyelid. I’d never experienced such a level of acceptance and love in the various choirs I’d been in in the past. It was refreshing, though took a little while to get used to! That doesn’t mean to say the problems all vanished, RSD is a daily occurrence for me to varying degrees and sometimes I still struggle with feeling like I belong, especially when it comes to concerts, and probably always will be; it’s just the way I’m wired. But knowing what I now know about it, having lived this reality, I feel I am far better equipped to help others find these little wins than I ever was before.
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Diagnoses like autism and ADHD are often referred to as ‘labels’, with negative connotations, but I like to challenge that idea. Labels aren’t as bad as people make them out to be; if your favourite jumper didn’t have a label in it to tell you how to care for it, it could get damaged. Autism is my care label, and I’d like to share some of the tips I’ve discovered to help others care for their neurodivergent choristers.

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1: Let me Stim!

​Stimming is characterised by repetitive movements such as rocking, wiggling, hand flapping, and clicking. It is vast and varied in its presentation, but serves a very important function. It helps us regulate our emotions and energy levels and often prevents sensory overload or meltdowns. We have no choice over our stims, they are a necessary part of our wellbeing! I personally wiggle in my seat a lot when excited, especially if I am enjoying a particular song, and will click my fingers or tap my wheelchair wheels if I’m feeling anxious or panicky. It is more disruptive and potentially damaging to bring attention to these actions than it is to just let us carry on as quietly as we can and work out some of that built up energy. We don’t do it to be distracting; we just want to stay happy and calm!

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2: Time Out

​Sometimes stimming alone isn’t enough to regulate what’s going on in our heads and bodies. If we’re finding a harmony particularly difficult, or if it’s got a bit too loud in the practice room, we may need to take some time out to recentre and reset. I personally struggle badly with confrontation, and if there are raised tempers – even if they are nothing to do with me – I tend to lock down and freeze in response. I have little control over this, it’s automatic, but again, I’ll need time to decompress and remind my brain that it’s not actually in danger! When we leave the room, we’re not being rude or upset at anyone, we just want to do something constructive now before it becomes more of a problem for us. No need to say anything, most of us feel uncomfortable with any attention when this is happening, but a quick, quiet “All ok?” when we come back is often appreciated.

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3: That One Song

​Most people know how some topics can be triggering for neurodivergent folks, and that can happen in music, too, despite our love of song. An entire song or theme of music can be very difficult to work with. For me personally, I have a lot of religious trauma I am still working through, so songs with overtly religious themes can be rather uncomfortable. Even songs we like can be painful, especially if they revolve around mental health. I adore the song You Will Be Found, it’s beautiful and moving, but I rarely get through it without at least tearing up, if not outright breaking down. It touches on a lot of struggles I experienced growing up that lead to some of the darkest periods of life, but speaks of such hope and kindness in the face of everything. Just know that if we go quiet during a piece, or turn away, it could be that the song is just a little too much for us and we need a moment. Talking about it privately might help, but understand that not all of us can go into detail as it can be very hard to discuss.

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4: Do I Belong?

​As mentioned earlier, Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) can be a pretty difficult issue many autistic folks deal with. Your mind likes to tell you that you don’t belong, that no one really want’s you there. Every look gets turned into something negative and it can severely impact your experiences. This can be especially strong when starting new things, and large groups can feel intimidating. Paired with a common problem of struggling to read emotions or read body language, RSD makes for an exhausting time. Despite deep down knowing very well that these things are not true, those voices can be painfully persistent and very hard to ignore. The easiest way I’ve found to combat this is to take time quietly in the back of the practice room, just concentrating on the music rather than the other choir members around me. When I first joined, I’d sit separately at the back observing and getting used to the dynamics of the group before I felt comfortable taking my place within it. Just being aware of this is important, sometimes not much can be done, but understand that we do desperately want to be a part of it but occasionally we have our own minds to fight against.

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5: Boundaries

Finally, as with most people, we all have our boundaries. For autistic folk, these can be very strict and quite different to what is usual. For me, I struggle with touch – not helped by a chronic pain condition – and it takes a while for me to become comfortable around people and gain enough trust to allow contact. Some people won’t allow touch at all, some have texture or food aversions. Boundaries vary from person to person and it’s always best to ask if there are any specific ones that need to be known to ensure a safe and comfortable time in the choir. Again, these boundaries are not a choice for us, and our often-rigid thinking means there can be little leeway, but working together will ensure they can be met without negatively impacting practice sessions and performances.

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Time to Talk

​There are of course other areas that might come up besides these 5 pointers, but I hope they go some way to helping make the choir environment accessible to neurodivergent singers. As with all these things, it is always important to ask your choristers if there is anything specific that needs to be taken into account as early as possible to avoid misunderstandings and upset. Talking about it can go a long way, and feeling heard is very reassuring. Music is important to all of us, and often our biggest escape and therapy, so making choir an inviting and stress-free atmosphere will benefit all involved!

Want more advice about how to make your choir a truly inclusive space?
Drop Emma a line for a chat!