6 February 2026
Always Adapting, Never Quite Fitting In? When Giftedness Finds Its Words Later in Life
A client (anonymous) of a Hoogbloeier® alumna wrote the following testimony for us:
Sometimes we receive words that linger. Not because they try to prove something, but because they convey a feeling that is hard to put into words. This testimony was shared with us by a client of one of our experts, with the question of whether we might publish it. Not as an example, not as an explanation, but as recognition.
What follows is neither a theoretical account nor a definitive answer. It is a personal reflection by someone who spent years trying to fit in, to understand, and to explain themselves, until language slowly emerged for what had always been felt. We share this testimony because it shows what psychoeducation can mean when it does not start from labels, but from the desire to finally understand oneself more deeply.
For those who may recognize themselves in this. And also for those who (not yet) do.
Giftedness in adults is often recognized only later in life. This testimony shows how years of adaptation, underachievement, and a persistent sense of being “different” can coexist with outward success, while also bringing inner unrest and self-doubt.
Psychoeducation can offer recognition and self-understanding without trying to “fix” anything. Insight into a differently wired brain does not solve everything, but it creates language, gentleness, and meaning for experiences that were previously confusing or painful.
Good guidance starts from lived experience, not from labels. When adults learn to understand their intensity, sensitivity, and thinking style in context, space emerges for self-acceptance, personal growth, and a more authentic life.
A Strange Species
A chameleon. That’s how I usually described myself. Someone who constantly tries to adapt to their surroundings. With great success. A good career. A large network.
But happy???
For decades, there was always friction somewhere. Professionally and relationally. There was always the sense that things could be (much) better. And the feeling that the other side didn’t understand me. If I understood myself at all…
I was not a top student. Quite the opposite. Rarely top of the class. But when something interested me, I didn’t need to study it. And what didn’t spark my interest… mathematics, algebra, physics… I often scraped by, just barely. Only in physical education was I even worse.
Languages, history, social sciences, on the other hand… a walk in the park. But even there: grades? I didn’t care. If I understood it, that was enough. So my results were always average. Until I wrote my thesis. Entirely my own, idiosyncratic way: highest distinction.
Professionally and in my free time, I always reached out with the best intentions, offering ideas on how work, projects, or organizations could be done differently or better. Which often were not understood — or were understood very differently.
“Why can’t you just be satisfied?”
“It’s good enough, isn’t it?”
“Stick to your trade.”
“Mind your own business!”
“You’re overthinking it.”
“You’re a dreamer. You’re naïve.”
Promising challenges quickly became boring once things were going well. This led to a bumpy path, with success stories but also unexpected turns. There was always something that rubbed the wrong way.
Until the chameleon ran out of color. A search followed — through doctors, quacks, therapists from all corners of the world, hypnosis… until I eventually ended up with a coach. Full of resistance. Because enough had already been tinkered with in my chakras.
After telling my story yet again, time suddenly seemed to stop. The coach wondered whether it might be possible that my brain simply works differently. The word giftedness triggered just as much resistance as the idea of seeing a coach in the first place. I’m not exceptionally smart at all!
Until the coach asked me to check off a few things…
Impatient when others can’t keep up? Check.
Quickly bored and inclined to watch a movie at 1.5× speed? Check.
Struggling with authority for authority’s sake? Check.
A critical mindset? Check.
Curious? Check.
Fast talker? Check.
Imagination? Check.
Creative? Check.
Low self-esteem? Check.
Sensitive? Check.
Strong sense of justice? Check.
The resistance remained. I am not gifted. And what a shitty word it is, too.
Until the coach asked: had you already felt, as a child, that you never truly belonged?
An explosion in my head. Recognition. And above all, sadness. Because yes.
In my family. Among groups of friends. In youth movements. On the football team. I was always on the outer lane of the system.
A few years have passed. My “diagnosis” didn’t solve anything. But it did give me oxygen to understand myself. An explanation for many strange turns in my life. More understanding of events from the past.
A little more gentleness toward myself emerged. And more understanding for the “slowness” of others. It remains a struggle with things. But I now understand that I am different. And that there is nothing wrong with that.
I still find the word gifted dreadful. It doesn’t fit who I am. But I can say that my brain works in a different way than most people’s. I’m not a chameleon. Just a somewhat strange species. Which helps me find a bit more peace with existence. I wish that for every “kindred species.”
How is it possible that I adapted for years and still never truly felt in the right place?
Many gifted adults develop strong adaptation strategies in order to function at work, in relationships, and in social contexts. This can lead to apparent success, but also to a persistent sense of alienation or inner tension, because one’s own way of thinking and experiencing does not get enough space.
What does it mean if I recognize myself in giftedness, but struggle with the label?
Recognition does not have to coincide with identifying with the term “gifted.” For many adults, what helps most is understanding that their brain works differently from average. That acknowledgment can give meaning to earlier experiences, without the label needing to take center stage.
What can guidance offer when there seems to be nothing to “fix”?
Guidance does not need to focus on eliminating problems, but on increasing self-understanding and self-compassion. By learning to interpret experiences through the lens of a different way of thinking and feeling, greater calm, direction, and space often emerge to make more authentic choices.
Do you recognize yourself in this story, or does it bring to mind someone for whom these words might matter? Feel free to share this testimony with a counselor, coach, or therapist you work with, or with friends, colleagues, or family members in whom you recognize something of this experience. Sometimes recognition is the first step toward a different conversation, deeper understanding, and greater gentleness toward yourself or one another.
Copyright © 2026 Dr. Sabine Sypré – All rights reserved. No part of this article may be reproduced in any form or by any means, whether electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from the author. Sharing online is permitted provided the author is credited and a link to this article is included.
