The Courage to Say ‘I Don’t Understand

There’s a phrase that feels tiny but weighs about a thousand pounds: “I don’t understand.”

For a lot of us—especially if you’re neurodivergent—those three words can feel like admitting failure. Like you’re about to get the eye roll, the sigh, the “weren’t you listening?” lecture. So instead, we fake it. We nod. We guess. We spiral later when it all goes sideways.

Here’s the truth: saying “I don’t understand” takes more courage than pretending you do.

When you admit you’re lost, you’re actually preventing bigger problems. You’re avoiding mistakes, wasted time, and resentment. You’re showing you care enough to get it right. And you’re modeling something powerful for the people around you: that clarity matters more than saving face.

But yes, it’s scary. So here are a few ways to soften the edges without turning it into an apology tour:

• “Just to make sure I got this right, you want me to…” (restate what you heard)

• “I think I’m missing a piece—can you walk me through that part again?”

• “I want to make sure I don’t mess this up—can I ask a clarifying question?”

Notice none of those sound like: “Sorry, I’m stupid.” Because you’re not. You’re clarifying.

And let’s flip the script for a second: if someone tells you they don’t understand, take it as a compliment. It means they trust you enough to be honest. They want to get it right.

That’s not incompetence—that’s commitment.

So next time you feel the words stuck in your throat, remember: “I don’t understand” isn’t a weakness. It’s a strategy. And the more we practice it, the stronger our communication (and our workplaces) get.