My Journey with Neurodiversity
Self-diagnosis, doubts, and revelations
My first clue that I could be on the autism spectrum was when I realized that the people I really vibe with are—more often than not—neurodivergent. Then one day I had a botanical gardens date with a dear friend, who shared her story of her late autism diagnosis, and as we commemorated over similar experiences she said, “If you’re thinking it, it’s probably real.”
Then I did a very autistic thing and took every online autism assessment I could find, read every social media post under #actuallyautistic, devoured every piece of information I could get on this complex, dynamic, and misunderstood disability. I quietly determined that I was autistic, learning that receiving a clinical diagnosis can be hard if you don’t display the “typical” symptoms of autism (which is a myth, because autism shows up in different ways in different people, in a variety of social / emotional / sensory / bodily functions, to varying degrees).
It was like putting together the last piece of a gargantuan puzzle. Suddenly, everything about my life made sense—my hypersensitivity, deep emotions, special interests, inability to thrive in traditional work environments, why I feel like I don’t fit in, why certain situations drain me, why sometimes I am non-verbal…the list goes on and on.
I started cataloguing my past interactions, experiences, and patterns...it was autism! I was chronically fatigued at my last startup job and took countless blood tests because I thought I had hypothyroidism…it was autism! My therapist said she once thought my ebbs & flows resembled manic depression…it was autism! This realization was enlightening, euphoric, sad, and relieving, all at the same time.
I also felt (and still do feel) imposter syndrome—what if I’m not autistic and I’m “taking away” from people who are actually autistic? But, I thought: formal diagnosis aside, I’m still getting the knowledge & tools I need to better regulate myself, and live a happy and healthy life.
As I’ve lived into my self-diagnosis, I don’t know what else it could be besides autism. And the acceptance journey is very similar to my queer journey: I’m not queer / autistic “enough”, maybe I’m not actually queer / autistic → What else could it be? → I am queer and autistic, and my version of these things look different than other peoples’.
I don’t feel disabled—autism has granted me superpowers. I’m so smart! I love learning! I have a foine-ass palette. I feel emotions deeply and am an artist because of it. I can tune into the subtle energy body and create transformative experiences because of it. I have bursts of energy where I download lots of messages, generate lots of ideas, and get lots of things done.
And also, I feel disabled sometimes. I feel extremely dis-regulated in loud environments and busy situations. Social interactions can completely wipe me out for hours, or even days. Consistent neurotypical pacing fatigues me.
Last week I had a meltdown sitting in a car in Los Angeles. I felt very very disabled, and very very sad. It was an important week of meeting my partner’s friends & family and I was struggling through it, feeling overwhelmed and completely unable to be dazzling and charming and vibrant like I would have wanted to be.
I wondered out loud, sobbing, “Would things have gone better if I wasn’t autistic?” My partner held my hands real tight and said she doesn’t think of it that way, that she loves me exactly as I am. That night we brainstormed ways I could feel more supported in social situations, and ways for us to communicate when I am feeling non-verbal.
I am grateful that the people in my life are treating my self-diagnosis with care and compassion. I am grateful that my lifestyle, including my workplace (!), are conducive to my pacing, and truly allows my gifts to shine. I am grateful for all of this new knowledge on what I need to feel my best, and how to ask for it. I am grateful and here for the journey of it all!
