Surprise, I’m Neurodivergent!
Leann FirestoneBy Penny
Seeking an Autism diagnosis would have never crossed my mind until I hit my thirties. Growing up, I always felt like the odd one out. As an elementary school student, it was cute and endearing to be so unusual. However, my uniqueness became more of a hindrance as I grew older. I struggled to relate to my peers and keep up with social and emotional expectations. Racking my brain to translate the hidden facial expressions, emotions, and body language behind every interaction was exhausting. To cope, I focused on achieving goals and ignored the confusing aspects of social interaction. If I had a mission objective, I could let it consume me. I strove to be an above-average, responsible adult, an ideal I saw around me. The more boxes I aimed to check, the less time I had to handle my idiosyncrasies.
The constant hustle was taking a toll on my mental health. Achievement was the only thing keeping me together. I felt incredibly stressed, overwhelmed, and misunderstood when something small went wrong. One day, I was highly frustrated with my car. It was something minor, and while it was being fixed at a shop nearby, that small event threw everything off balance for me. In every interaction, I was cranky, distracted, and almost on the verge of tears, all because of a change in my routine. Suppressing my uniqueness no longer sufficed; it slowly seeped out.
A close friend noticed my descent into madness and was kind enough to ask what was happening. I usually hesitate to share my problems, but I felt comfortable enough to confide in this friend. I couldn’t articulate why any disruption to my routine was causing such distress. They didn’t completely understand either, but they challenged me instead of telling me life would get better. My friend encouraged me to dig deeper and consider finding a therapist.
I wanted to shake this feeling of being an alien outside society and agreed it was the next step. Starting therapy sounded scary, but I knew the most frightening challenges typically bring growth. I could finally begin to unload my mental burdens and find the tools to build confidence and strengthen my mental and emotional health. None of this would change overnight, but I was on the right track.
Talking with my therapist, I realized that my personal life experiences and explanations of the world differed from most. There were moments when my behavior still baffled me. Why did I still flip out when my precious routine was disturbed? Why was I always hung up on minor details and unable to see the big picture in most situations? Additionally, my default body language communicated mistrust. I avoided making eye contact and fidgeted with things around me to help me think and decompress.
The seemingly endless list of micro-mysteries about my life experience and thought patterns led my therapist to suggest I seek an Autism diagnosis. I made an appointment through my insurance to see a clinical psychologist specializing in Autism diagnoses. I had to wait several months to be seen but remained hopeful and stuck to therapy. In the meantime, I kept “autism spectrum” in a folder with many other conspiracy theories I had about myself.
When exam day finally arrived, it was much like seeing a therapist. I could present my history, struggles, skills, interests, and experiences to this trained professional. The psychologist labeled me ASD Level 1 (once known as Asperger’s syndrome). My assessment results listed symptoms, including difficulty with social-emotional reciprocity and understanding social norms and expectations. It spoke about my rigid thinking and strict adherence to routines and sameness. All of the things I could agree with.
What a sense of relief I had felt that day. It helped me realize my intentional self-sabotage did not cause the issues I struggled with. Instead, my brain was experiencing burnout from constantly striving to function in a perfect, neurotypical manner around the clock. This endless and exhausting effort left little room for accepting and accommodating my natural neurodivergence. I felt like the odd one out because I was the odd one out in a world catering to neurotypical minds.
As an adult in my mid-thirties, I can approach life as my most authentic self. My brain isn’t dysfunctional; it just functions differently. I still face challenges such as meltdowns, but I am more forgiving of myself when they occur. I have a consistent therapy routine and recognize that there is still much work to be done.
Seeking and receiving a diagnosis has had a positive impact on my life, enriching it in many ways. I have stopped trying to fit into a mold and have found my own path. The stuffy, neurotypical doors of life that slammed in my face were never meant for me anyway. The doors on my journey, embracing my life on the spectrum, are way more colorful and exciting. They are always open, inviting me to embrace life on my terms. Those doors I yank open scream my presence and jump right into the action.
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