The Late Diagnosis of Autism

Bridging two worlds – from the vibrant urban landscapes of California’s San Francisco East Bay Area to the tranquil natural beauty of Washington’s Olympic Peninsula – my journey to a late-life Autism diagnosis is not just a tale of geographic relocation but of navigating life’s complexities with an invisible compass. 

At 36 rotations around the sun, my story unfolds as an undiagnosed autistic woman, a narrative woven with threads of resilience, seeking understanding and acceptance in a world that often seems alien.

This is a reflection not only on the missed signs that now make sense and the detours taken but also on the power of self-discovery and the quest for a diagnosis that eludes yet defines. It’s about confronting and embracing my true self amidst a spectrum of norms, of finding my place in a society that values labels such as “Autistic” and “AuDHD” as keys to comprehension and compassion.

Through this journey, I’ve encountered milestones marked by challenges, from early childhood peculiarities to the profound struggles of adolescence and adulthood. These challenges were intensified by my relocation to a place where life mirrors the introspective path I tread. Here, amid the lush forests and vast coastlines of the Olympic Peninsula, my story as an undiagnosed autistic life finds its voice.

The Odyssey Begins

Born in the late autumn of 1987, my earliest years hinted at a path less trodden. Toe-walking, a hallmark and ongoing family tale of my toddler days was but a precursor to a series of signs that whispered of my divergence from the expected developmental trajectory. Yet, these whispers went unheard, unnoticed, and unexplored by medical professionals, enveloped instead in family anecdotes and temporary fixes that masked rather than addressed the underlying narrative of my Autistic existence.

My differences were the gossip fodder of the teachers, discovered as a result of their careless conversations during recess. On one trip to the bathroom mid-break, I overheard their concerns, leading to a path of masking so layered that decades later, I did not know where I ended and the masks began. 

These hushed conversations resulted in low-quality assessments in those early elementary school years that introduced me to the rigors of speech therapy, as my words mirrored not my thoughts but the distorted speech of a cartoon character who portrays the stereotype of buffoonery.

 This early intervention, while necessary, was a solitary buoy in the vast ocean of my growing differences, and peers took note. I was the child who preferred the company of yard duties and teachers over peers, a loner navigating the social labyrinth with a map that seemed authored in a foreign tongue. 

To this day, when inebriated, tired, or emotional, those speech difficulties creep back in. It is impressive how hindsight is a genuinely perfect vision.

Then, in fourth grade, I moved to a new elementary school. This is where life got a whole lot harder.

A Teenage Tapestry Woven with Anxiety and Depression

The tween and teenage years brought with them labels that felt more like stigmas than explanations. Diagnosed with depression, social anxiety disorder, and general anxiety, I was a textbook example of the complex interplay between autism and mental health challenges that often go unrecognized in women until later in life. My experiences mirrored those of countless other undiagnosed and later-in-life diagnosed autistic women, caught in a cycle of misinterpretation and misdiagnosis, our true selves obscured by a fog of societal expectations and personal turmoil.

I was jealous of students who got more help than I was granted. I yearned to succeed and entertained daydreams of perfect grades. I was told I was not applying myself and to just try harder. Now we know it was dyscalculia, a learning disability, as well as a “non-verbal learning disability.” I was “giving it all she’s got, captain!” It just was not good enough for the school administration, teachers, or my family. But most of all, it was never going to be good enough for me. 

I had remedial math throughout middle school; however, in high school, I was simply dumped into regular pre-algebra, something I was altogether unprepared for and unable to accomplish. This only further reinforced my belief that I was a failure, a dummy, too stupid to be worth the effort. This negative self-thought process was further enforced by a teacher who enjoyed publicly embarrassing me by telling me across the room that I failed yet another assignment. A situation that has left me with legitimate PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder reactions to math equations some 15 years later. 

Was it any wonder I would blossom when placed in an independent study program? The elimination of distractions and school bullies, both teen and adult, allowed me to grow and mature in my own way. The downside is that I didn’t get the crucial social development attained between 16 and 18 that the average student gets. A problem that has only gotten worse with age and time. 

Seeking Solace and Understanding: Autism Experience

The transition to adulthood was a quest for solace in a world that often felt unwelcoming, a journey marked by the pursuit of acceptance and understanding. From my mid-twenties to the present day, the narrative of my life took an unexpected yet pivotal turn as a result of my son’s Autism diagnosis at 3 years of age. Learning about his diagnosis set off more red flags than the entire Chinese army. Reading the book “Unmasking Autism” by Dr. Devon Price was like reading about my own life experiences through someone else’s lens. 

The concept of “peer review” entered my journey in a deeply personal context. As I navigated the complexities of adulthood, other autistic adults began to recognize in

me the patterns and nuances reflective of their own experiences. Their blunt affirmations of my neurodiversity served as unsolicited yet profoundly valuable insights into my own identity. This period of revelation and connection marked a significant shift in my understanding of myself, shedding light on the myriad ways my unique perspective shaped my interactions with the world around me.

These affirmations from peers were not the only voices guiding me toward a deeper understanding of my autistic identity. My therapy sessions became spaces of exploration and validation, where my therapist highlighted how my autistic viewpoint influenced my perception and understanding of various situations. This supportive environment fostered a sense of acceptance and self-recognition, allowing me to see my traits not as isolated quirks but as part of a broader neurodiverse spectrum.

The Olympic Peninsula, with its serene landscapes and reflective quietude, has become the backdrop against which my continued quest for a diagnosis unfolds. Here, amid the towering trees and expansive shores, I found a semblance of peace, a place where my undiagnosed autistic self could seek understanding and, perhaps, eventually, acceptance.

As I navigate this ongoing journey, the lessons of the past and my hopes for the future converge on a path that is uniquely mine. The quest for a formal diagnosis, fraught with obstacles like expensive costs and lengthy waitlists, remains a part of my narrative. Yet, at this moment, the validation I find in the accommodations I afford myself – because I need to set an example for my son – and the support of those who recognize my neurodiversity provides a foundation of strength and self-acceptance.

A Call to Arms: Embracing Neurodiversity

My story is not just my own but a call to arms for a society to embrace neurodiversity to recognize the intricate tapestries of individual experiences that make up our communal fabric. It’s a reminder that understanding and acceptance begin not with labels but with listening, with recognizing the unique perspectives each of us brings to the collective table.

As I share my journey, I invite you to reflect on the landscapes of your own lives, on the paths trodden and the ones yet to be discovered. It is and never will be too late to learn something new about yourself. In the diversity of our experiences lies the strength of our collective humanity, a tapestry woven with threads of understanding, empathy, and acceptance.

DjinniWhispers

• May 2024
• April 2024
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