A Neurodivergent + Trauma-Informed Reflection on Non-Places

“Nowhere” Can Be a Sanctuary

When I was a child, some of my calmest moments were spent travelling in the car with my dad.

There was something about those drives — the gentle rhythm of the road, the low hum of the engine, the unspoken understanding between us — that made me feel completely at ease. Being with my dad was like being alone, but in the best possible way. I didn’t have to perform, didn’t have to explain myself, didn’t have to be “on.” There were no expectations on those journeys (apart from feeding him the occasional opal fruit), no need to mask. Just quiet presence, and a rare sense of peace.

Me & my dad

Looking back, I realise now that those car rides were my first experience of a non-place — a term coined by anthropologist Marc Augé to describe spaces that don’t require you to “belong.”

Think:

• Cars 🚘

• Airports ✈️

• Waiting rooms 🪑

• Motorways 🛣️

• Supermarkets 🛒

• Hotel lobbies 🏨

To many, these places might seem cold or emotionally empty. But for people like me — neurodivergent, trauma-impacted, or just always a bit overwhelmed by the social world — these so-called “nowheres” can feel like sanctuaries.

Train ride with my dog Stanley

Why Non-Places Feel Like Home

🧷 No Mask Required

In a non-place, you don’t have to socialise or perform. There is no need for small talk, no pressure to make eye contact or hold a conversation. You can just be. And that’s rare, and beautiful.

🚘 Cocooned and Contained

Cars especially still hold this magic for me. The enclosed space, the predictable motion, the clear purpose of just getting from A to B — it is soothing in a way few things are. Whether it is a train seat, a café booth, or a quiet corner of a waiting room, these small, bounded spaces make me feel safe. Contained. Regulated.

🔄 Pause from Performing Identity

In non-places, I do not have to be anything or anyone. There is no audience, no narrative. It is just me, in transition — and that feels like rest. Especially for those of us whose identities have been fractured, questioned, or masked over time.

🧃 No Decisions. No Demands.

Often, there is nothing to solve in a non-place. You are waiting without being in waiting mode. Travelling. Sitting. That simplicity can be such a balm, especially when your brain is juggling executive dysfunction or chronic stress.

🤖 Systems Are Easier Than People

Non-places run on signs, rules, and automated routines. They do not ask for emotional labour. They are predictable, structured, and socially quiet. When your nervous system is fried, that type of environment can feel like a deep breath.

Reframing “Nowhere” as “Enough”

There is this idea in the world that we should always be “going somewhere,” doing something, becoming someone. I feel this deeply, often feeling like I am stuck on a hamster wheel. But the truth is, there is healing to be found in the “in-between.”

Where the world might see emptiness, I find space to breathe.

And maybe that is why I still find myself seeking out non-places when I need to regulate. A long drive. A quiet supermarket aisle. A coffee shop booth in the early morning. These moments of nowhere — they aren’t meaningless. They are full of quiet meaning.

A happy moment alone in a car

For My Fellow Neurodivergent & Trauma-Impacted Community:

You are not broken for loving the in-between places. You are not lost just because you find comfort in spaces that ask nothing of you.

Non-places can be grounding. They are permission slips to rest, reset, and reconnect with your body — without having to explain yourself.

You do not always have to belong. Sometimes, you just need to be free.