My ADHD Autism Diagnosis story
All my life, people told me I was smart. Yet I thought something was wrong with me.
I could pick some things up quickly, yet I couldn’t pay attention or retain information easily. I’d become deeply interested in something, but then abandon it. My thoughts went in nonstop loops. I was terrified people would notice this behavior and assume I was unstable. Teachers saw my intelligence but told me I wasn’t trying hard enough. My grades were good but my standardized testing scores were horrendous. I always felt so stupid.
I was also considered quite intense. The anger was especially confusing. When I felt wronged or a story detail was presented inaccurately, I would get enraged. The emotion took over completely. I believed, like others did, that I should be able to control it. I blamed myself for the many broken friendships and relationships that dissolved because of this. Therapists assumed it stemmed from not being listened to growing up. No one thought it might be something else.
During my junior year in college, I attended a study abroad program where everyone shared the same teachers, classes, and workload. No matter how hard I tried, I could not keep up with the reading. I was putting in my all, but everyone was outpacing me. Yet the situation was so controlled, there was no way to deny something was different. When we returned to campus, I advocated for an evaluation through my university's Disability Services and was diagnosed with ADHD at age 19.
Making Sense of ADHD
The ADHD diagnosis brought relief and confusion at once. Relief that there was a reason. Confusion about what it meant for who I was. What do I do with this information? How does my life change? Why didn’t anyone notice sooner?
But as the confusion faded, what mattered was learning to work with it. I learned why starting was easier than finishing. Why I needed multiple ways to capture information, and how passion mattered more than discipline. Understanding ADHD helped me design my life more honestly. I was a talent agent and agency owner in the creative industries where learning differences were common. I learned practical strategies such as verbalizing new material and color coding easily lost items.
But the ADHD diagnosis didn't explain everything, so I kept looking for answers. In my 30s, getting accepted into a PhD program gave me the external validation I needed to keep looking. If I was smart enough for this, maybe my struggles weren't stupidity. Maybe I just learned differently. I sought out a more comprehensive evaluation.
The results confirmed ADHD again and revealed why I felt both fast and slow. Strong in some areas, struggling in others. But the assessors noted I didn't fit the typical ADHD presentation: on time, well-kept, endlessly curious about the structure of the interviews. Something still didn't fit. I thought, maybe I'd never fully understand myself.
The Missing Piece (Autism)
Years later in 2023, my therapist suggested I might be autistic. I initially replied “Umm, no.” My second bachelor’s was in psychology, and I had worked as a psychology research assistant. I had been evaluated twice. But autism research has evolved. Dual ADHD and autism diagnoses weren't even recognized until 2013 in the US. The research on how autism presents in women, adults, and people who mask well was all relatively new. So I looked again, starting with Devon Price's Unmasking Autism.
For the first time, my experiences made sense. I didn’t realize I could be autistic without looking like the stereotype. What mattered was the internal experience: sensory overwhelm ranging from clothing texture to strong smells, caring deeply about right and wrong, anger that was actually meltdowns, frustration at vague communication. I'd spent my entire life confused and going, Am I doing this right? What's going on? When people made the rules explicit, I felt relieved. It wasn't that I was trying to be rude or ignorant. I just didn't know, and I was always worried I was doing the wrong thing.
Understanding I was autistic reframed everything. Years of therapy had me assume that my patterns were from trauma, social anxiety, resilience, moodiness, and personal flaws. No, they were from autism. The rage when story details were wrong wasn't unresolved childhood issues but meltdowns. My overwhelm in social situations wasn't social anxiety but sensory overload. I never understood the role of small talk, and still don’t.
What I did understand was systems. My love of systems wasn't in conflict with my ADHD, it was in conjunction with my being autistic. What appeared to be inconsistency and character flaws were actually part of my neurodivergence. It was how my AuDHD works: wide-ranging interests explored with deep intensity.
Little about me has changed at a fundamental level. I still hyperfocus on things, then move on. I'm still a slow reader. I still get lost. But naming who I am opened a door to freedom. I could finally stop trying to be someone else and meet myself with grace, instead of shame.
This is why I'm committed to working with others like me, who are navigating the same realization. I see how much unnecessary self-blame people carry for patterns that were never explained to them. The labels don't fix you. But they can light your way home.