The other day, I found myself sitting in a café, fuming. I had arrived early—as usual—and was waiting for my colleagues. The agreed-upon time of 9:30 had come and gone, and I resigned myself to the frustrating reality that, once again, they were late. I’d even pleaded with them beforehand for punctuality, so their tardiness stung all the more.
At 9:50, they finally arrived—both bursting through the door with triumphant smiles. "We did it!" one exclaimed, echoed by the other.
Confused, I revisited the what’s app exchange. There it was: "Let’s meet at 10, but I’ll aim for 9:30 to be sure," one had written. "Sounds good," replied the other. Thumbs up from me.
But my mind had latched onto that "9:30," carved it into stone, and treated it as a solemn vow. When reality didn’t match, I took it as a personal affront. Story of my life, that.
Time—so universal, yet so personal.
It’s the one thing we all have to navigate daily, yet our experiences of it can differ wildly. If you’ve ever been left waiting, wondering if “9:30” was a concrete appointment or a loose suggestion, you’re not alone. For many, especially those in the neurodiverse community, time isn’t just a measurement—it’s a perspective.
So, let’s dive into the fascinating world of how brains interpret the seemingly simple statement: “We’re meeting at 9:30.”
The Precision Timekeepers: When 9:30 Means 9:30 (Exactly)
For some, particularly those on the autism spectrum, time is an absolute. When they hear “9:30,” it’s not flexible or approximate—it’s a promise etched in stone. To them, arriving at 9:30 means exactly 9:30:00. Not 9:29. Not 9:31. Just right.
Imagine showing up at 9:35 and breezily saying, “Sorry, traffic was crazy!” To the precision timekeeper, this isn’t a minor inconvenience—it’s an affront. In their world, timing is exact. If they managed to be there on the dot, why couldn’t you? This rigid adherence to time isn’t stubbornness; it’s how they create order in a world that often feels unpredictable.
The Challenge
For those with this perception, a late arrival can feel like betrayal. It’s not just about time—it’s about trust.
The Time-Blind: Living in Now or Not-Now
Enter ADHD and its hallmark phenomenon: time blindness. For those with ADHD, time often operates in extremes: it’s either now or not-now. Future times, like “9:30,” exist in a hazy fog until they’re suddenly upon you.
Picture this: Your ADHD colleague enthusiastically agrees to meet at 9:30. At 9:20, they’re still lounging at home, confidently thinking, I’ve got plenty of time. By 9:40, they’re texting, “Just leaving now!”—and they mean it, despite still hunting for their shoes.
It’s not laziness or a lack of care. For the time-blind, managing time is like juggling jelly. They genuinely struggle to gauge how long things take or anticipate the ticking clock.
The Challenge
Late arrivals aren’t intentional. They’re the result of an internal clock that works on a completely different rhythm.
The Hyperfocused: Where Did the Time Go?
ADHD isn’t just about missing time—it’s also about losing it. Hyperfocus, a superpower for some, allows individuals to become so deeply immersed in a task that hours slip by unnoticed. While the neurotypical might have an internal reminder to check the time, someone in hyperfocus might emerge from their task thinking only minutes have passed.
If your hyperfocused friend misses 9:30 entirely, it’s not because they forgot you—it’s because they genuinely didn’t realize it was already 10:30. Time, for them, is elastic.
The Challenge
Balancing hyperfocus and time awareness can feel impossible. Add external pressures like deadlines or social expectations, and it’s easy to understand how things slip through the cracks.
The Rejection Sensitive: “You’re Late—Do You Hate Me?”
Now let’s layer in Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD), often associated with ADHD. For someone with RSD, lateness isn’t just a slight schedule diversion. it’s a signal of potential rejection. If you said 9:30 and show up at 9:40, their inner dialogue might spiral: Are they angry with me? Did I say something wrong? Am I not important to them anymore?
What looks like a five-minute delay to you can feel like a full on "fuck you" to someone with RSD. Their heightened sensitivity to perceived rejection can turn minor delays into emotional crises.
The Challenge
It’s not the time itself—it’s the meaning behind it. Lateness can unintentionally feel like a lack of care or respect, even when it’s not.
When Time Perspectives Collide: The Conflict Zone
Put all these perspectives in one room, and you’ve got a recipe for chaos. The autistic colleague shows up exactly at 9:30, confused and frustrated when no one else is there. The ADHD associate arrives at 9:50, genuinely shocked it’s already so late. Meanwhile, the person with RSD is convinced everyone’s lateness means they’re unloved.
Add neurotypical folks to the mix—those expecting everyone to simply be on time—and you’ve got a comedy of errors that feels anything but funny in the moment.
Bridging the Gap: How to Navigate Time Differences
So, how do we make 9:30 work for everyone? Here are some practical tips:
1. Build Empathy
Understand that time perceptions vary. For some, time is rigid; for others, it’s fluid. Neither approach is “wrong”—just different. Talk about it. Discuss your differences lovingly.
2. Create Buffer Zones
If someone struggles with punctuality, suggest meeting times with wiggle room. “Let’s aim for 9:30, but we'll start at 10.00 sharp" can reduce stress on both sides.
3. Use Tools and Reminders
Time-blind individuals often benefit from external aids like alarms, calendars, and timed reminders. Gentle nudges can make a world of difference.
4. Communicate Openly
For those with RSD, a simple text like, “Running late—can’t wait to see you!” can prevent an emotional spiral. Meanwhile, clear expectations help precision timekeepers feel respected.
5. Practice Self-Compassion
If you’re the one who’s late, overwhelmed, or spiraling, remind yourself: Time is hard. Give yourself grace and work on strategies to improve.
Time Is Weird, and That’s Okay
At its core, “But you said 9:30” is more than just a scheduling issue—it’s a window into how our brains interpret the world differently. Whether you’re a precision timekeeper, a time-blind optimist, or somewhere in between, understanding these perspectives can lead to better relationships, fewer conflicts, and maybe even a few laughs.
So the next time you find yourself waiting—or rushing—remember:
Time is strange, people are stranger. But the strange people we care about are worth navigating it for.
.jpg)
