Although I briefly talked about being diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) last year, I want to take a moment to talk a bit more about that and my autism spectrum disorder (ASD) diagnosis. Well, as much as I can possibly want to talk about myself, which is never very much and always a struggle, but hey, we're here now, so...

The Road to Assessment

I stumbled into a diagnosis of ASD and ADHD in my 30s. The ASD assessment came first and was probably a long time coming. But let's rewind the story a bit...

I was first diagnosed with depression in my early 20s. However, at the time, my general practitioner did not conduct a blood test before deciding on this and prescribing me medication for depression. After having a terrible time with that medication for a few weeks, I went cold turkey on my own. I was fortunate and experienced no issues, but most people view it as a bad idea because the withdrawal can be terrible, so avoid following my example if possible.

By the time I returned to that medical centre, my GP had left and I couldn't see him anymore. I ended up with a new GP at random, who immediately questioned the diagnosis and got me to take a blood test. Well, guess what? My iron was horrifically low. They could have misdiagnosed me based on symptoms common to both issues.

However, after a few more years, it became more apparent that there was still something that made me struggle with living what's considered a normal life. Throughout the rest of my 20s, I came to believe that a mix of anxiety and depression was behind my difficulties in living a normal life, and I experimented with several types of medication that never had any helpful effect. But we didn't start to really dig into why or where these struggles really came from until I approached my 30s.

At one point during this period, while I didn't have a job, I was seeing a therapist entirely subsidised through Medicare. Although I only saw her a few times, this was a pivotal moment in my mental health journey because the reality of my life finally started to sink in. With this therapist, I started talking about my childhood, teens, and early 20s in detail, and this resulted in two things happening: the therapist told me that the amount of trauma and resulting post-traumatic stress was way beyond what she was equipped to deal with and that I could use any of a handful of cases to get support from Victims Services' Support Scheme.

My mind was absolutely blown. At the time, I didn't know what to think or feel about the revelation. I had relied for so long on this belief that I was a weak person and that my emotions were a sign that I couldn't handle what life dealt me, so there must have been something wrong with me. I probably formed my self-beliefs by taking criticisms too seriously, as I later learned that literal thinking is linked to ASD and rejection sensitivity is associated with ADHD.

Regardless, in hindsight, it might be safe to say that I felt somewhat validated and seen by the therapist. But this revelation also horrified me as it made me aware that I had accepted many terrible things as normal and just a part of life instead of standing up against them.

I won't go into detail, but following that, many things happened. Eventually, I found myself an excellent new psychologist. After about a year of seeing this psychologist, I asked her about the possibility of getting assessed for ASD and whether she thought it might be something worth checking. She said it was possible that I could have this diagnosis, particularly given my main reasons for seeking therapy in the first place. (Spoiler: social anxiety.) She also asked me what difference it would make to know whether or not I have it?

My reasoning was that if I find out I do have it, I can use that knowledge to look up guidance on how to deal with my associated symptoms. I could do these things independently, but I was afraid of misdiagnosing myself and accidentally following a path that was not helpful to my growth. While I'm not super fond of authority, I didn't intend to take a diagnosis as gospel, but rather, guidance. That was my intention, as I believe it, anyway.

So, we did the assessment, and it came back with no real surprise, a positive on the ASD diagnosis. The symptoms weren't severe enough that I required a lot of support. Still, I could benefit from some as an improvement in the ASD-related areas in my life could help me with self-confidence and thus help with any lingering feelings of anxiety and depression. Those areas would be social communication and interaction, particularly sharing emotions with others, literal thinking, offering comfort, understanding social rules, and reading social cues. Beyond that, a sensitivity to noises, touch, and certain smells were things which contributed to the diagnosis, which weren't critical things to deal with, but whatever makes my life easier is a good thing. So, knowledge of this sensitivity could help me deal with such symptoms and became a worthy goal for me.

Fast forward to when I was dealing with horribly debilitating fatigue following my second bout with COVID-19. I had always reported some challenges around inattention, initiating tasks, procrastination, and the inability to sustain my focus on a number of activities. However, the fatigue made these challenges grow from somewhat manageable to distressingly difficult. So, a year after my ASD assessment, my psychologist and I explored potential links between these challenges and ADHD.

Impact of the Diagnoses

In a way, these diagnoses have helped me see some experiences and struggles in a new light. I have realised that some social challenges, sensory sensitivities, and executive functioning difficulties that have made daily life more challenging were likely what led to so many feelings of depression and anxiety over the decades. As a result, understanding my neurodivergence has brought some clarity to these feelings and allowed me to accept them without the guilt I used to carry.

One of the most enlightening things about my ADHD diagnosis was realising how much it flew under the radar. When my partner complimented me on my abilities, I would sometimes joke that I momentarily excelled out of necessity due to my habit of procrastination. Little did I know that this learned ability was how I had managed to get by with ADHD for so long, and it only became a distressing issue for me when the fatigue following COVID made that last-minute brute forcing impossible for a few months.

Unfortunately, one potential risk of these diagnoses is that once we have the diagnoses, we start to blame ourselves for all the misunderstandings and other difficulties between us, other people, and whatever we have to do to make a living. Fortunately, I have a caring and supportive partner who helps ensure I don't fall into that hole. So, neither of these diagnoses makes me look back at past interactions and think, "They were right—I was this so-and-so just as they said." Which brings me to my next thought...

At the start of my journey, my psychologist wrote that I often feel distressed by the symptoms I present that are indicative of ASD and ADHD, and that has negatively affected my self-confidence over the years. That isn't to say that I'm the only person with imposter syndrome in the room—I feel as though most people I talk to are either constantly doubtful of their abilities or extremely harsh with themselves. But since I am talking about my experience here, to which other's mileage will vary, this lack of "confidence" has been a defining feature of the first three decades of my life, so I want to address that.

It's easy to focus on how long it takes me to get started on things, how late I leave things before finishing them, how long it can take me to finish that last 20% of things I start, and so on. On the other hand, it's difficult to even realise that I can finish things really quickly when I finally get around to it, or that I sometimes word things in ways that make it easier for others to feel less intimidated by the topic, or that sometimes I have a really creative and unique take on things, even when others point these things out to me. But the main thing that has been helping me shift my perspective on the above is reminding myself that if I respect the opinions of the people saying these things to me, dismissing their comments about my abilities is pretty disrespectful.

Similarly, when I am overly harsh on myself, I indirectly comment on those who cannot achieve what I do. Even though I have never intended to have that implication, this thought process has been a valuable tool in becoming kinder towards myself. While some may perceive these strategies as negative, I find them effective and am pleased with using them. There is a functional role of shame—after all, to lack shame entirely is in itself a personality disorder, is it not?

Perhaps part of this is possible because, since my assessments, I have been pretty open about my diagnoses. I knew that there would be people who would think worse of me because of it, but a lesson I learnt from my partner rings true: it is an opportunity to realise that those people are not worth my care or worries. Meanwhile, with other people, it has been an interesting way to connect and share experiences, as well as be more of my weird self—mainly at work, since in my personal life, being weird is just par for the course.

On the bright side, understanding my neurodivergent traits has also helped me set more realistic expectations of myself and seek environments that better suit my needs. While I am still learning to embrace who I am and seek the accommodations that would make my life and career easier and allow me to flourish, being more open about these things, regardless of the fear of consequences, is a start. For example, I recently took the small leap of talking to the inclusivity department about such accommodations when interviewing for a role. The support has been fantastic and welcoming, and I appreciate that.

But one of the most crucial aspects has been more consciously managing my burnout. I've been in a cycle of burnout since I made my first websites at the end of primary school, so it seems I recover from them quicker than those I witness experiencing burnout for the first time in adulthood. Nevertheless, it still is something that I need to manage. So, how do I manage it? Uh... Actually, I guess I don't. Not really?

I do have a tendency to do things when I find myself capable of doing them, even if the time of day isn't necessarily appropriate for such things. If I need to take a break from whatever a thing may be, whether that's personal projects or work, I will take that break. Taking a break when I need to is surprisingly something I don't feel guilty about doing. Although, I sure did used to struggle with guilt over not being productive enough in the past...

The problem seems to be that we are meant to follow this 24-hour cycle of life, but it just does not work for many of us. So we force ourselves to create habits of being able to do this or that at various times of the day and then have the constant underlying stress of keeping those habits going for life. Maybe that is the proper way to do this life thing, but I'm still in the mindset where I just accomplish things in ways that are easier for me. Which is not to say that I avoid difficult and adversity, but that I follow my awareness of my own energy levels and go from there.

This Is Me

I am not sure how well I get across the point that I am a continual work in progress in my posts, even though I do say it. Sometimes, I worry that my confidence in some paragraphs, because I am talking about how I have overcome what feels like the worst of my anxiety and depression, makes it appear I have left all my struggles behind. However, that is not the case. I am affirming that these struggles do not impede me from living my life like they used to. Instead of avoidance, I constantly challenge myself and, as a result, continually surprise myself with what I can achieve.

I don't know if I will ever feel "qualified enough" to do anything, whether it's my own job or even writing content for this blog, but I keep doing it, anyway. Heck, I don't even want to press "publish" on this one, but I will. Just like I push myself to give talks at work on the rare occasion, made myself make a bunch of weird crap for Weird Web October to help me get over obsessing over quality, and so on. Either way, I will continue my journey of self-discovery and self-improvement for as long as I live. That's what it is to live, is it not?

This is about as far as I can go right now. I do not feel I am at a point where I can talk more about the challenges and strengths that come from having both ADHD and ASD. So, while I am aware that the two can sometimes mask or exacerbate each other, contributing to personal and professional misunderstandings, I am not ready to dive into that yet.

At the end of the day, this is just my story. Actually, it is not even that. This is just part of my story. The same as how ASD and ADHD don’t define me, but are just parts of the whole—parts that make up the person who is me, but are not the entirety of me. Define me by what I do in my life, if you must define me by something so simplistic.

Regardless, if my story connects with you, I recommend pursuing your own journey of exploration, whether through professional help or personal discovery. Although our experiences are personal and distinct, we often have common experiences and emotions with others.

Moreover, I want to point out that people beyond those with ASD and/or ADHD also encounter difficulties in different aspects of life. It's fair to say that life is tough for everyone, and those difficulties are legitimate whether or not there is a diagnosis to "justify" them. Diagnoses should not be necessary for others to acknowledge and support someone's struggles.

Seriously.