You have walked with me through two worlds: the gentle world built from neurodivergent experience outward, where the conditions for genuine consent were ordinary and available, and the burning world we actually inhabit, where ecological crisis, economic precarity, emboldened racism, and the AI-mediated erosion of our information environment are dismantling those conditions. These challenges are landing hardest on people already carrying the accumulated weight of a lifetime in the wrong world.
Something has been present in both worlds, felt and yet not named. This article names it.
I refer to the cumulative weight of particular conditions in the world, that impact on a person's experience of consent as their 'ecological consent load'. Conditions include their sensory environment, their economic circumstances, their information landscape, their relational history, the systems of discrimination they navigate, and the degree to which all of these either support or erode the nervous system's ability to engage in genuine, reflective, freely given agreement.
This is not a new problem. It is a new name for something neurodivergent people have been living, and describing, and trying to communicate for a very long time.
It matters for practitioners, researchers, policy makers, and anyone who takes seriously what genuine neurodivergent consent requires, because you cannot address what you cannot name.
Why We Need a New Concept
We already have good frameworks for parts of this.
Dr Daniel Siegel's¹ window of tolerance describes the zone of nervous system regulation within which real choice is possible, but not what produces or erodes it. Allostatic load² captures the cumulative wear of chronic stress, without addressing consent or its political sources. Mullainathan and Shafir's³ scarcity research shows precarity consumes the cognitive resources decisions require, but says nothing about sensory, relational, or informational load. The social model of disability⁴ rightly locates the problem in the environment rather than the individual, though consent was never its central concern. And intersectionality, from Kimberlé Crenshaw⁵, shows that overlapping oppressions compound in ways no single-axis analysis captures, without connecting that compounding to consent specifically.
Ecological consent load draws on all of these and does what none of them does alone: it names the relationship between a person's environmental conditions and their specific capacity for genuine consent. It says that the ability to give a real yes, one that comes from a person's actual values, genuine understanding, and freely exercised will, is not purely a fixed property of the individual. It is a variable, and the world around the person is one of the most significant variables affecting it.
This is not a radical idea. Once stated, it is almost obvious. And yet it is largely absent from how we think and talk about consent: in clinical practice, in law, in research ethics, in policy, in daily life, and in the ordinary relational decisions people make every day, the yes given to a partner, a parent, a friend, an employer. We treat consent as though individuals make decisions in a vacuum: their capacity, their understanding, their agreement, and nothing else. We rarely ask about the conditions in which that agreement is being sought. Conditions that may be impacting neurodivergent people more than others.
Ecological consent load asks that question.
What Ecological Consent Load Actually Means
Ecological consent load is not the same as stress. Stress is a response. Ecological consent load is the cumulative environmental conditions that produce and sustain that response, and specifically, the degree to which those conditions erode the environment needed for genuine consent.
It has five dimensions, which interact and compound, and one further force that runs through and multiplies every one of them. None of them are produced by the person carrying them, and none of them are a personal failing. Yet without the neurodivergent individual understanding these aspects, it can feel like a personal failing, which can only be compounded when professionals around them don't understand either.
Sensory load⁶ is the degree to which the physical environment, such as sounds, lights, smells, textures, temperatures, activates the nervous system's threat response and reduces available capacity for reflective decision-making. For neurodivergent people with heightened sensory processing, this is often the most immediate and most underestimated dimension. A person in a sensory environment that is triggering their threat response is already, before any question has been asked, in a state of reduced decision-making readiness.
Cognitive and informational load⁷ is the degree to which the information environment, including its pace, complexity, reliability, accessibility, exceeds the person's ability to process and integrate it at the rate decisions are being demanded. Sometimes that environment is institutional: long forms in complex language, information delivered verbally under time pressure, digital systems requiring sustained executive function to navigate. Just as often, it is relational: a partner asking a question that needs an answer right now, a family gathering where a decision is expected on the spot, a friend waiting on the other end of a text. For people with processing differences, this is a very practical and disabling dimension, especially if they do not have full understanding of their processing differences.
This mismatch shows up clearly in my own research. Romantic relationships were the single most common focus respondents wanted to work on in therapy or coaching, and two-thirds reported having lost themselves in a relationship, or felt responsible for someone else's emotional state.²⁰ Codependency, people-pleasing, and fawning were the terms respondents reached for most often to describe it, and while they often didn’t appreciate those labels, the relational challenges were still very clear. None of this shows up on an intake form. It shows up in a client describing, months into working together, a yes they gave to a partner that they are still trying to make sense of.
Much of the effort that has gone into supporting neurodivergent consent has been aimed at the wrong target. We have focused on teaching neurodivergent people how to give an enthusiastic yes, how to recognise coercion, how to say no clearly, how to practise the script of refusal and adapt body language to demonstrate enthusiasm, rather than understanding what is happening under the surface within that person when a yes or a no is not available. This is not because those skills are worthless. It is because they assume a level of internal and external connection that neurodivergent people may not have instant access to.
Recent research bears this out. A 2026 participatory study with neurodivergent students in Irish higher education (referred to below as the HEI study) found that consent education and institutional systems were not designed with their experiences in mind, and that students were navigating intimacy and consent within cultures that had never accounted for their processing, communication, or sensory realities.¹⁶ The study was co-produced with neurodivergent students as co-researchers, and its central recommendation was not better scripts but systemic change: consent processes built from neurodivergent experience outward.
Similarly, Beck et al. (2025) document that consent materials and procedures routinely fail to accommodate processing and communication differences, and that this failure is not a minor oversight. It is an ethical threat to the validity of consent itself.¹⁵ Their guidelines emphasise multiple modes of delivery, accessible language, and participatory design.
What both bodies of work point toward, alongside my own, is the same conclusion this article reaches: the problem is not that neurodivergent people need to be taught to consent more enthusiastically or more neuronormatively. The problem is that the conditions for consent, whether in an institution or a relationship, have not been built with neurodivergent people in mind, and professionals lack the understanding or resources to support ND people to explore their own consent approach.
Economic load is the degree to which financial precarity reduces cognitive bandwidth and constrains genuine choice. Economic insecurity⁸ directly compromises the cognitive resources required for considered decision-making. And when genuine alternatives are not available, when saying no carries intolerable consequences for example, free consent becomes almost meaningless, regardless of what forms are signed.
Relational and historical load is the degree to which a person's relational history, and particularly their history of trauma⁹, shapes their present capacity for genuine consent. For neurodivergent people who have experienced chronic misattunement from living in a neuronormative world, repeated correction, and long-term suppression of genuine self-expression, this dimension can be profound and largely invisible. The fawn response, the hypervigilance, the difficulty accessing inner wisdom are not character traits. They are the residue of environments that did not support genuine consent, accumulated over time.
Systemic and political load is the degree to which the broader political and economic systems a person lives within produce the scarcity, instability, and disenfranchisement that erode the conditions needed for healthy consent. The ecological crisis, the cost of living crisis, and the architecture of surveillance capitalism¹⁰ are not personal misfortunes. They are structural conditions, produced by political choices, and changeable by political choices. Naming them insists that consent is not just a clinical or relational matter. It is a political one, regardless of which political party is in power.
Running through all five: discrimination and identity-based load. This is the degree to which racism, sexism, ableism, classism, transphobia, homophobia, xenophobia, and other systems of oppression add compounding weight to a person's consent environment.⁵ It is not a sixth item on the list above. It runs through all five dimensions, multiplying challenges exponentially rather than simply adding to each.
A neurodivergent person of colour navigates sensory environments that are hostile in ways shaped by racism. A neurodivergent woman is more likely to have her pain dismissed, her capacity questioned, her no overridden. A neurodivergent trans person carries the load of a healthcare system that pathologises their identity while gatekeeping their care. A neurodivergent person in poverty carries economic load produced not by accident but by classism, ableism, and structural inequality.
Intersectionality is not an add-on to this framework. It is essential to understanding how ecological consent load actually operates. The same environment that is merely uncomfortable for one person may be actively unsafe for another, because discrimination compounds sensory, cognitive, economic, relational, and systemic load simultaneously.
These dimensions do not operate independently. A person carrying high sensory load is more vulnerable to cognitive overload. A person managing economic precarity is more vulnerable to the effects of relational trauma. A person navigating racism arrives at every interaction with a nervous system already shaped by the cumulative weight of being seen as a threat. The total load a person carries at any moment is not the sum of these dimensions. It is something larger than their sum: multiplicative, cumulative, affecting the whole person in the whole context of their life.
Yet we expect neurodivergent people to navigate the same decision-making processes and approaches as everyone else, in real time, with no understanding of what may be going on under the surface.
Where This Load Comes From, and Where It Lands: The Flow of Context
Context doesn't sit still. It moves around us and moves through us. Precision about where load originates and where it lands is what protects this framework from being misread as a description of individual fragility.
All five dimensions, and the discrimination that runs through them, are produced almost entirely in two upstream sources:
The Personal Context Stream, including and not limited to my community, my cultural context, my intergenerational patterns, my historical context, and my systemic realities.
The Collective Context Stream, including and not limited to our structures, our systems, our cultures, our environment, and the political and economic architecture of our world.
The load from these streams is felt in my own context stream: the confluence where Personal and Collective streams meet the individual's nervous system. My stream divides into two channels downstream, my experience channel and my consent channel.
Ecological consent load explains my experience channel: a person's sensory experience in a given room, their processing capacity on a given day, their nervous system's read of safety, the residue of relational and historical load, the weariness of navigating discrimination. This is not chosen. It is not a matter of effort or character. It is the Personal and Collective context streams, arriving inside a body.
Ecological consent load does not explain, and should never be used to explain away, my consent channel: a person's voice, their pacing, their boundaries, their choices about how and whether to respond. That is genuine agency, and it remains real and worth naming even under high ecological consent load.
Conflating the two are both forms of the same error. Treating a person's felt experience of the world's conditions as though it were a choice, blames them for what was done to them. Treating their remaining agency as though it were nothing in the face of that load, strips them of the power that is still theirs.
Ecological consent load is the mechanism by which the Personal and Collective context streams reach my own context stream and shape what ends up in my experience channel.
Naming it precisely lets a practitioner ask the right question at the right point in the flow: what conditions produced this experience, rather than what's wrong with this person, without losing sight of where the person's own power still sits.
Knowing what is influencing a neurodivergent person may be a very individual journey, as individual as the person's fingerprint. Yet understanding can be both liberating and transformational, as ND people can finally create the environment they need to comfortably make healthy decisions.
Ecological Consent Load and Neurodivergence
Ecological consent load matters for everyone. It matters most urgently for neurodivergent people because they are disproportionately exposed to every dimension of it simultaneously.
Their sensory systems register environmental threat more intensely. Their processing differences mean the pace and format of most consent processes is mismatched with their needs. Their structural position makes economic precarity more likely. Their history in a world not built for them often means significant relational and historical load. And the systemic forces of the burning world land on all of it.
For neurodivergent people who also navigate racism, sexism, ableism, classism, or transphobia, the load is not merely added. It is multiplied. The neurodivergent person of colour who is read as aggressive when overstimulated. The autistic woman whose sensory needs are dismissed as hysteria. The ADHD trans person whose executive function challenges are weaponised as evidence of instability. These are compounded burdens, and they shape consent and decision-making in ways no single-axis analysis can capture.
Damian Milton's double empathy problem¹¹, that communicative failures between autistic and non-autistic people are bidirectional and a product of mutual misunderstanding rather than autistic deficit, is relevant here. Neuronormative systems look at a neurodivergent person who is complying, signing, saying yes, and see consent. They do not see the sensory load, the cognitive overload, the economic precarity, the fawn response, the decades of accumulated relational load, the daily weight of navigating discrimination that are shaping what that yes means. They are seeing a neurotypical script within neurodivergent experience and calling the result consent.
What we are describing is, in practice, a double bind, and it catches both the neurodivergent person and the practitioner working with them. The neurodivergent person does not understand why some agreements feel off, why they keep making agreements they cannot follow through on, or why they avoid agreements altogether even when they want to say yes. A significant part of the challenge is that often the practitioner does not understand it either.
Both are reading the situation through frameworks that do not account for the full picture. The neurodivergent person is navigating alexithymia, rejection sensitive dysphoria, processing and communication differences, and the accumulated pressure of external conditions they may not have fully understood or been able to name at the time.
The practitioner is navigating within a system that expects decision-making consent, while their training never mentioned the nuances of neurodivergent experiences such as ecological consent load, and within a professional culture that tends to interpret non-compliance as resistance.
Neither has the language for what is actually happening. In that gap, blame almost always flows downhill onto the neurodivergent person, who is not actually failing but doing the best they can to navigate an internal world and an external world that are both, in different ways, confusing to them and to the people trying to support them.
Naming the double bind is the first step out of it: it’s not the neurodivergent person's fault, it’s not the practitioner's fault, but a systemic failure of understanding with consequences that range from the individually harmful to the structurally unjust. Ecological consent load finally gives us the words to address it fully.
What Ecological Consent Load Is Not
This does NOT mean neurodivergent people cannot consent. The history of disability and neurodivergence is already far too full of autonomy being removed in the name of protection. This framework is for the opposite purpose. It means that when we are asking someone to genuinely consent, we must ask about the conditions in which that consent is being sought. This is not because the neurodivergent person cannot consent. It is because consent without the appropriate environment is not consent: it is extraction. The responsibility sits with the systems, environments, and practitioners seeking consent. It does not add burden to the neurodivergent person being asked.
It does not mean every difficult decision made under difficult conditions is invalid. Life requires decisions under imperfect conditions. What this framework asks is not perfection but awareness and responsibility: that the people and systems seeking consent take seriously their role in creating, or failing to create, the conditions that make genuine neurodivergent consent possible.
It does not mean collapsing my experience channel into my consent channel. Load explains why capacity fluctuates. It does not dissolve the agency that remains available, moment to moment, within that capacity. Holding both at once, recognising the load and recognising the agency, is the discipline this framework asks of anyone using it.
It does not mean all contexts can be changed. Some contexts are rigid, hostile, or beyond individual or collective reach in any relevant timeframe. Naming that is not defeat. It is part of consent. Sometimes the ethical goal is not genuine consent but harm reduction, accommodation, survival, or collective action that may outlast us. Pretending otherwise turns systemic problems into individual homework.
It is not a capacity assessment tool. This framework must never be used to judge whether a neurodivergent person is "able" to consent. It is a reflective map for locating load, agency, and constraint. It is not a gatekeeping mechanism.
The Intellectual Roots
This concept is a synthesis, not an invention from nothing. A few bodies of work anchor it beyond the frameworks already named above.
From polyvagal theory and trauma research, it takes the understanding that genuine engagement is physiologically dependent on nervous system regulation, that consent is a somatic act as much as a cognitive one.¹² From neurodiversity writing, it takes the empirical documentation of how neurodivergent consent is misread, and the ethical insistence that neurodivergent experience is itself valid knowledge about what consent requires, most clearly modelled by participatory, "nothing about us without us" research design.¹³ ¹⁴
From political ecology, it takes the understanding that the conditions of an individual life are shaped by collective political choices, that the burning world of Article Two is produced, not natural, and so a matter of political responsibility.¹⁸ And from the tradition of utopian thinking, it takes the conviction that imagining the world we're building toward is necessity, not escapism, that the gentle world of Article One is a direction, not a fantasy.¹⁹
None of these traditions alone gives us ecological consent load. Together, they are its foundation.
What the Framework Offers
For practitioners, it reframes the purpose of the work in two connected ways.
In your own practice, your role is not to obtain consent. It is to create the conditions in which consent can genuinely arise. The flow of context gives you understanding of what could be present: get curious about the load in the Personal or Collective context stream, and locate the client's remaining agency in their consent channel, rather than letting the two blur.
Beck et al.¹⁵ and the HEI study,¹⁶ both discussed above, point the same way here: the barrier was never the client's capacity. It was the design of the process.
A parallel 2025 report from Ireland's Dublin Rape Crisis Centre (We-Consent), AsIAm, and the Royal College of Surgeons Ireland, focused on school-level relationships and sexuality education for autistic young people,¹⁷ found that 70% of young autistic adults rated their sex education as unsatisfactory, while 73% said they needed more processing time to express boundaries. For many, consent education had been reduced to what respondents described as a single, brief session with no meaningful discussion or skill-building beyond it, the detail widely reported as the "cup of tea video.", which lacks practical application and relies on neurotypical communication. Together, the HEI study and this report put the design responsibility exactly where it belongs: with the practitioner and the institution, not the person being asked to agree. This is worth knowing even if you never touch an intake form. It tells you that a client's discomfort with agreeing to things is rarely a personal skills gap. It was very likely never taught, modelled, or made safe to practise.
In your client's life, this reframing is vital. When a client describes having agreed to something such as moving in with a partner, taking on a parent's care, saying yes at work when they meant no, the same two questions apply as in the research above: what load were they carrying when that yes was given, and where, if anywhere, did their own consent channel actually get a say? It also gives you language for something many already sense: the client whose yes to a partner sounds more like exhaustion than assent, the young person who agrees to a family plan they will quietly resent or abandon the moment they can, the client who has said yes so many times in one relationship that a genuine no, no longer feels available to them at all.
For researchers, this opens a field of inquiry: how ecological consent load varies across neurodivergent profiles and intersecting identities, and how both consent processes and everyday relational support can be designed to reduce it. The qualitative research underpinning Untangle Roots,²⁰ together with Beck et al.,¹⁵ the HEI study,¹⁶ and the RCSI/DRCC/AsIAm report,¹⁷ is a starting point, not an endpoint.
For policy makers and institutions, it shifts the standard from procedural to substantive: not did we ask, but were the conditions right for a genuine answer. The HEI¹⁶ and RCSI/DRCC/AsIAm¹⁷ reports both call for systemic redesign rather than better individual scripts, and Beck et al.¹⁵ offer a practical benchmark for assessing whether materials and procedures meet that standard. A signature obtained under inaccessible conditions is not consent, and no amount of paperwork makes it so.
For the neurodivergent community, it offers a language for an experience often felt but not named. Saying yes from exhaustion. Agreeing because no felt impossible. Leaving appointments having signed things you didn't understand because the alternative required more than you had. Feeling, in retrospect, that what you gave was not quite consent, but not knowing how to say that, or to whom. Ecological consent load says: what happened to you was real, it was not your failure, and it was not inevitable. And it says something further: even inside that load, whatever agency you had left was yours, and still is.
A Call to Practitioners
If you have read this far, you are almost certainly someone who cares about doing this well. You already know the difference between a consent that feels real and one that doesn't. Ecological consent load asks you to let that knowledge shape not just individual moments but how you understand your role, in the room with a client, and in how you help them think about consent everywhere else in their life.
Consent in the Room
Before a session, ask: What is the sensory environment like right now, for this person, in this space? What is their economic situation, and does it constrain their genuine options? What do I know about their history, and how might it be shaping their capacity to say no freely? What is their cognitive and informational load today? What forms of discrimination might they be navigating, and how might that shape their sense of safety? Have I given them enough time?
During a session, ask: Does this yes sound like genuine agreement or like compliance? Is this person regulated enough to be genuinely here? Have I made it clear, not just in words but in the quality of my attention, that their no is as welcome as their yes?
After a session, ask: Did I do everything I could to create the conditions for genuine consent? What would I do differently? What does this person need from me going forward to ensure genuine consent remains possible, not just today, but over time?
We at Untangle Roots can help you to review your current approach, processes and procedures, and support you to integrate changes that can support ND people more effectively.
Consent in Their Life
This is where most of the work actually happens for most coaches and therapists, not just in redesigning your own intake process, but in helping a client understand a yes they already gave, or are about to give, somewhere else entirely.
When a client describes a decision they've made in a relationship, it can help to explore it together rather than simply accepting or challenging it: What was happening around you when you said yes, who was involved, what history was already in the room? Was there time to actually locate an answer, or did the moment ask for one faster than you could give?
Whose voice was loudest in that decision, yours, or the load you were carrying that day?
If this same request came on a day when you had more capacity, would the answer have been different? What might that tell you about whether it was consent, or compliance that looked like consent?
What would it look like to revisit this now, not to undo it, but to understand it?
And when a client's context genuinely cannot change, a family pattern that isn't shifting, a partner who won't accommodate, a workplace that won't adapt, the question changes. Not "how do we get a different yes," but: What does support look like here? What would it take to build enough safety that the next decision is more genuinely theirs, even if this one wasn't?
These questions require a reorientation of attention rather than more time, though more time would help. A shift from: did I complete the process? To: did I create the conditions? whether that process is a session, or the years of a relationship a client is trying to make sense of.
The gentle world is not built by governments and policy makers alone. It is built one room at a time, and one relationship at a time, by practitioners who know that compliance is not consent, that exhaustion is not agreement, that the performance of yes is not the thing itself, and who know that some rooms, and some relationships, cannot be made gentle, and that honesty about that is part of the work.
The Work Ahead
Everything above is context and framework. What follows is an invitation to help build the response.
My dream is simple, and yes it is also huge. I want every professional who works with neurodivergent people to have the understanding, the skills, and the processes to support them effectively. Not to protect them from decisions, and not to make decisions on their behalf, but to build the conditions in which neurodivergent people can make informed decisions that are genuinely their own, with the support they need and the knowledge they are entitled to.
This framework is one step towards that. It is not the destination.
We are currently running research with professionals who work with neurodivergent people until the end of September 2026, to help us develop this work further.
Practitioners who take part receive a free copy of our research with neurodivergent people, worth £29.99. Our research is informing our forthcoming neurodiversity and consent book for professionals, and the courses that follow from it. The purpose is not to add another framework to the shelf. It is to make sure that neurodivergent people have the knowledge and the appropriate support they need to make informed decisions about their own lives.
If you work with neurodivergent people and you want to be part of building that, you can find out more at www.untangleroots.org/research
This is the third and final article in The Consent Trilogy. Article One, 'The Conditions for Consent,' imagines a gentle world built from neurodivergent experience outward. Article Two, 'As the World Burns,' examines the impact of ecological crisis, economic precarity, embodied racism and AI on neurodivergent consent.
The author's framework, developed through qualitative research with neurodivergent adults, offers practitioner training grounded in the principles described across this series, including the flow of context and the experience/consent distinction within my own context stream, explored fully in the accompanying book. Find out more at: www.untangleroots.org
References
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16. Dunleavy, M., Maher, K., Mannion, N., Dervan, M., Gallagher, S., McIlrath, L., O'Rourke, M., Hearity, D., Moran, C., Ali, R. & Healy, M. (2026). Supporting Neurodivergent Students as they Navigate Intimate Relationships within Higher Education. Mary Immaculate College, Technological University of the Shannon & University of Limerick. Funded by the Higher Education Authority.
17. Royal College of Surgeons Ireland (RCSI) (2025). Autistic People's Understanding of Consent and their Right to Protection from Sexual Harm. Commissioned by Dublin Rape Crisis Centre (We-Consent campaign) and AsIAm. Funded by the Irish Human Rights and Equality Commission Grant Scheme.
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