Many autistic adults describe themselves as “oversharers.”
They say it with a mix of pride and apology. Pride, because openness is how they find people who think like them. Apology, because the same behavior is treated as awkward, inappropriate, or “too much.”
In clinical work, I increasingly see that this tension is not about poor boundaries. It is about a mismatch between autistic disclosure logic and dominant social rules about when, how, and why people are expected to share personal information.
What if “oversharing” is not a failure of self-control or social understanding, but a strategy operating in a system that misreads it?
One helpful way to understand disclosure is through a five-level model commonly attributed to Powell. These levels describe content depth, not relational appropriateness.
This model is often taught as if moving “down” the levels automatically signals greater intimacy.
Autistic communication frequently disrupts that assumption.
A critical clarification:
Autistic adults may share Level 3 ideas or Level 2 feelings:
Many neurotypical listeners infer intent from depth (“If you told me that, you must want closeness”). Many autistic speakers treat depth as information, not implication.
This is where “oversharing” gets named.
When viewed functionally, what gets labeled as oversharing often serves clear adaptive purposes:
In this sense, autistic disclosure often functions as a diagnostic probe of the social environment—not indiscriminate emotional dumping.
An autistic adult meets a new colleague and discovers a shared interest. Within minutes, the conversation moves from surface facts to detailed ideas and personal meaning.
The autistic person leaves thinking:
“That was efficient. Now I know if this is someone I can actually talk to.”
The colleague leaves thinking:
“That was intense. Why did they get so personal so fast?”
Same interaction.
Different disclosure logic.
Most social systems quietly expect disclosure to be:
Autistic adults often respect truthfulness and relevance, while violating timing expectations.
So the issue is rarely what was shared.
It is when, with whom, and under what unspoken relational contract.

Instead of a single ladder, disclosure can be mapped across three axes:
(Powell’s Levels 5 → 1)
“Oversharing” most often occurs when content depth advances faster than relationship or timing, not because the disclosure itself is inappropriate.
Across patterns, autistic disclosure is typically:
Instead of asking:
“Did I overshare?”
Try asking:
This reframes disclosure as a skill set, not a moral failing.
The tension makes sense:
Labeling this pattern as “oversharing” collapses cognition, strategy, and social mismatch into a personal flaw.
A more accurate description is this:
A relational tool operating in a system not designed to interpret it correctly.
Before or after a disclosure that feels risky, ask yourself:
There is no requirement to disclose less.
The goal is choosing when and how your disclosure works for you.
The work is not to make autistic people smaller, quieter, or more edited.
The work is to:
Because disclosure is not a flaw. It is a language.
Powell, J. A. (1969). Self-disclosure: The key to interpersonal relationships. (Often cited in counseling and communication training texts; exact formulations vary across sources.)
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