When you step into the Church of England’s discernment process as a neurodivergent person, you carry more than just your sense of calling. You carry an entire lived history of how your brain works, how you process information, and what environment you need to thrive.
During my Stage 1 panel, I made a conscious choice to speak openly about my neurodiversity. In several conversations with the assessors, I took a brief pause to explain my needs—explaining that I might take a moment longer to process complex or multi-part questions, or outlining how my neurodivergence shapes the way I articulate my thoughts.
I didn’t do this to make excuses. I did it because I genuinely had no idea whether the assessors had read the background notes provided by my Diocesan Director of Ordinands (DDO), or whether they had any real understanding of neurodiversity and what reasonable adjustments or processing spaces actually look like in practice. I was simply setting the room so I could participate fully.
When my Stage 1 report arrived, I was struck by a piece of feedback. Some of the assessors noted that my explanations of my neurodiversity felt “almost apologetic.”
That assessment stayed with me—not because I agreed with it, but because of the fundamental misunderstanding at its heart. What was read as an apology was actually active, deliberate self-advocacy.
The Difference Between Apologising and Advocating
In a formal panel setting, taking 30 seconds to say, “I just need a moment to process that question before I answer,” or asking for a brief pause during an intense interview, is not an admission of weakness. It is taking ownership of your needs.
Yet, within formal structures of the Shared Discernment Process, there is a subtle risk: when a candidate articulates their processing style, assessors who aren’t fully immersed in neurodivergent inclusion can mistake clarity for hesitation, or self-awareness for self-doubt. As explored in All Kinds of Minds, But Are We Providing All Kinds of Support?, structural support within the Church often lags behind the reality of those entering discernment.
Advocating for yourself is not being apologetic. It is being true to how God made you, and giving yourself the space you need to communicate your vocation clearly.
How and Who to Advocate To
Looking back from where I am now as an ordinand, I’ve come to see that how and where you advocate really does matter throughout discernment and training:
Your DDO: Be clear with your DDO from day one about what you need. They are your primary advocate in the system, and ensuring your paperwork and background context accurately reflect your neurodivergence sets the stage for everything that follows (a theme covered in detail in the guide to disclosing your disability).
Panel Leads (Stage 1 & Stage 2): Never assume assessors have thoroughly digested every nuance of your paperwork or that they understand your specific neurotype. Communicating directly with the panel leads beforehand—or stating your needs clearly at the start of an interview—ensures everyone is on the same page.
Theological Colleges: When attending open days or interviews, ask prospective colleges directly about their learning support, how they handle unstructured study time, and how they support neurodivergent ordinands (for practical guidance on this step, see Choosing the Right Theological College for Your Neurodivergent Mind).
Protect Your Peace of Mind
Beyond the administrative steps, there is a personal rule that should guide you through discernment: do whatever gives you peace of mind.
If taking 30 seconds at the start of an interview to set expectations helps you breathe easier and focus on the conversation, do it. If requesting a five-minute break during an intense Stage 2 discussion gives you the reset you need, ask for it. The waiting and pressure of these panels is demanding enough—as discussed in Waiting for Your Stage 2 Report—without adding the burden of masking your processing style.
If an assessor or panel mistranslates your self-advocacy as being ‘apologetic’, that reflects a gap in their training, not a flaw in your approach.
As neurodivergent ministers and ordinands, learning to advocate for ourselves in discernment isn’t just about surviving the selection process; it’s the foundation for how we will safeguard our time, energy, and well-being in future parish ministry (a reality explored in The Neurodivergent Minister’s Survival Guide).
Stand firm in who you are, ask for what you need, and never apologise for ensuring your voice is heard clearly.
