Ethics in Practice Part 2: The Cost of Clarity
Ethics in Practice (3-Part Series): When seeing clearly means suffering more
In Part 1, I explained how my brain processes ethical violations as system errors. How pattern recognition operates automatically. How four components converge to create moral clarity that feels like integrity from the inside but looks like stubbornness from the outside.
What I did not explain is what that clarity costs.
The Karpinski Framework
Ruth Karpinski and colleagues (2018) study what they call overexcitability: a state of heightened perception across multiple domains. People with overexcitability experience:
intellectual intensity (deep curiosity, analysis, pattern recognition)
emotional intensity (strong feelings, empathy, sensitivity to others' emotions)
sensory intensity (heightened awareness of sounds, textures, lights, smells)
psychomotor intensity (high energy, restlessness, difficulty sitting still)
imaginational intensity (vivid mental imagery, creative thinking, rich inner worlds)
For many neurodivergent people, especially those who are autistic or ADHD, multiple forms of overexcitability occur simultaneously. This creates a mind that notices inconsistencies others miss, processes injustices deeply and persistently, cannot easily filter out environmental stressors, struggles to let things go because thoughts loop and compound, and feels ethical violations as physical discomfort.
Karpinski’s research shows that high intelligence combined with heightened sensitivity creates vulnerability not because intelligent people are too smart for the world, but because they notice more, process more deeply, and feel the weight of inconsistency and injustice more acutely than others.
Unfortunately, the same traits that make you perceptive also make you vulnerable. The same clarity that helps you identify problems also makes you suffer when those problems cannot be solved.
When Clarity Becomes Crisis
This semester, I came closer to dying than I have in years. Not because of any single catastrophic event, but because the accumulated weight of seeing clearly what was happening around me and being told I was misperceiving reality became unbearable. My professional judgment was questioned while my compliance was demanded. My decision to protect myself was characterized as pathology.
The harm itself was painful. But being told that noticing the harm meant something was wrong with me nearly killed me.
I am being direct about this because suicidal ideation is a reality for many people with overexcitability, and pretending otherwise serves no one.
The Gaslighting of Pattern Recognition
I do not like the term “gaslighting” since it has taken over popular media to the point where it has lost its meaning. But this is quite relevant for the purposes of my blog post and it deserves some attention here.
Gaslighting is particularly effective against people with overexcitability because we are already prone to self-doubt.
We notice so much that we question whether we are noticing too much.
We feel so intensely that we wonder if we are feeling wrong.
We process so deeply that we worry we are overthinking.
When someone tells us we are being too sensitive, that something did not happen the way we remember, that we are catastrophizing, that our anxiety is talking, or that we have a flight response to conflict, we do not just hear criticism…
We hear confirmation of our worst fear: that our perception cannot be trusted.
But here is what I have learned: when your pattern recognition is being dismissed, it is usually because the pattern you have identified is accurate.
The Paradox of Ethical Sensitivity
The same neurodivergent traits that make me good at research, analysis, violence prevention, and clinical assessment also make me vulnerable to environments that operate unethically.
I can identify risk before it escalates, analyze systems for structural flaws, document patterns others miss, and advocate for clients who cannot advocate for themselves.
But I cannot do any of that in an environment that punishes me for seeing clearly.
The mental health field needs people with ethical clarity. So far, my experience in the mental health field also punishes people who have it.
This is the paradox I cannot escape.
Why I Cannot Compartmentalize (more on this in part 3)
Some people manage this paradox by compartmentalizing.
They maintain ethical standards in their professional work while overlooking ethical violations in their workplace. They advocate for clients while accepting exploitation of themselves. They document harm in case files while ignoring harm in supervision.
I cannot do this. Not because I am morally superior, but because my brain does not work that way.
For many autistic people, ethical principles apply universally or not at all. If something is wrong in one context, it is wrong in all contexts. If a rule exists, it applies to everyone, including the people who made the rule.
This is sometimes described as “black-and-white thinking,” but that term misses the nuance. And I find that saying this to someone with autism invalidates their experiences or is sometimes used as a way to deflect. To say, “hey, your autistic brain is doing that dichotomous thinking again…” when our brains are not like this. In fact, we are overthinking about every angle of a problem.
So, yes, I can see gray areas. What I cannot accept is contradictions.
If an organization claims to prioritize client safety but tolerates unsafe employment practices, that is hypocrisy, not complexity.
If a system requires me to follow ethical codes while leadership models unethical behavior, that is incoherence, not nuance.
My brain cannot reconcile those contradictions. And trying to exist in systems that require me to ignore them causes me profound distress.
The Research on Moral Injury
There is a term for what happens when your values are violated by the systems you are part of: moral injury.
Originally used to describe trauma experienced by soldiers forced to participate in or witness actions that violate their ethical beliefs, moral injury has been increasingly recognized in healthcare, social work, and other helping professions.
Moral injury occurs when you are required to participate in harm, when you witness harm but are prevented from intervening, when you report harm but face retaliation, when your ethical concerns are dismissed or minimized, and when you are forced to choose between your values and your livelihood.
Moral injury differs from burnout. Burnout is exhaustion from overwork. Moral injury is damage from being forced to violate your own integrity.
For people with overexcitability, moral injury is catastrophic because we do not just “think” about ethical violations.
We feel them.
Physically. Persistently. Inescapably.
What Clarity Cost Me
This is what clarity cost me this semester:
Weeks of insomnia from hypervigilance
Migraines and digestive issues from chronic stress
Isolation because I had no energy left for relationships
The loss of activities that usually sustain me: climbing, hiking, reading all felt impossible
Suicidal ideation that scared me more than it ever has
Through all of it, I was told the problem was my perception. That I was too sensitive. That I needed to let things go. That I was “running away from my problems.”
But the research is clear: intelligence + sensitivity ≠ suffering.
Being trapped in systems that violate your values while being gaslit about it = suffering.
Karpinski’s work shows that people with overexcitability are not inherently depressed or suicidal. They become depressed and suicidal when environments demand that they ignore what they perceive, normalize what they know is harmful, and participate in systems that violate their values.
The problem is not my brain. The problem is systems that punish people for having brains like mine.
The Question That Matters
The question is not: how do I think less clearly, how do I stop noticing patterns, or how do I become less sensitive?
The question is: how do I build a life that does not punish me for thinking clearly?
And sometimes the answer to that question is leave.
Not because I am fragile.
Not because I cannot handle difficulty.
Not because I have a “flight response.”
But because I recognize that some systems cannot be fixed from within.
And staying in them will cost more than I am willing to pay.
Come as you are, take what you need. I will be here.
