I’ve often been asked why I push so hard for my kids to get diagnosed. To some, they seem “normal,” and the effort to secure assessments feels unnecessary. “They’ll be fine,” I’ve heard countless times. The answer to this question is simple: me. I’m the reason. My lived experience as an undiagnosed autistic and ADHD adult has been one long lesson in suppressing my needs, battling shame, and functioning in survival mode. I don’t want that for my children. I want them to be confident in who they are and what they need, and I want others to recognise this too.
The Long Shadow of Being Undiagnosed
Living undiagnosed often means never understanding why you feel different, why tasks others breeze through seem insurmountable, and why you’re exhausted from just existing. It wasn’t until I began unraveling my neurodivergence that I understood how much of my life has been shaped by being forced to ignore my instincts and suppress my needs.
My struggles weren’t “normal” laziness, incompetence, or over-sensitivity, as I was made to believe. They were the result of my brain working differently. Without recognition or support, I grew up believing I was the problem. This led to decades of self-doubt and shame, compounded by a lack of tools to cope with my differences.
Growing Up Misunderstood
Reflecting on my childhood, I see the moments my neurodivergence was dismissed. Well-meaning adults assumed I was being dramatic, stubborn, or fussy. Their responses taught me my feelings weren’t valid, and my needs were secondary to others’ convenience.
Sensory Sensitivities
Noise at bedtime often left me in tears as a child. The muffled hum of a television, the click of a light switch, or distant conversations felt like drills in my ears. When I expressed distress, I was told to “stop being ridiculous.” My need for quiet was seen as unreasonable, and I just had to endure it.
Food Challenges
I had a limited diet because of texture sensitivities. Foods like peas and mashed potatoes would make me vomit, but I was forced to eat them because my reactions were dismissed as attention-seeking or stubbornness. I spent countless dinners sitting at the table, tears streaming down my face, staring at food that made my stomach churn.
Routine and Order
I thrived on routine and struggled when my belongings were disorganised. My sibling would intentionally mess with my toys, knowing how much it upset me. My distress was laughed off as overreacting. My need for order was never taken seriously.
Fairness and Justice
I’ve always had a heightened sense of justice. If someone broke the rules or treated others unfairly, I couldn’t let it go. My family found this amusing and would deliberately break minor “rules” to provoke me, calling me a little police officer when I became visibly upset.
Difficulty With Change
Changes in plans left me paralysed with frustration. My brain needed time to process new information, but instead of understanding, I was called dramatic or inflexible.
By the time I reached my teens, I’d learned to suppress my reactions, bottling up meltdowns and swallowing my emotions. Instead of crying, I’d sit quietly, feeling the burn of anger or sadness in my chest. Over time, I stopped trusting myself and internalised the belief that my feelings were invalid.
The Impact in Adulthood
The repercussions of being undiagnosed didn’t end with childhood. I carried these lessons into adulthood, and they shaped my relationships, career, and mental health.
Career Challenges
I’ve always struggled to maintain jobs, not because of laziness but because of executive dysfunction, sensory overwhelm, and burnout. I was often off sick for a week at a time with a mystery illess, I’d miss deadlines, forget tasks, or freeze when too much was expected of me. My meltdowns over office noise or sudden changes in responsibilities were viewed as overreactions, further eroding my self-esteem.
Unhealthy Relationships
Believing my needs didn’t matter made me an easy target for manipulation and abuse. I stayed in unhealthy relationships far too long because I genuinely has no idea that the way I was being treated was wrong. My needs weren’t important, so of course a partner neglecting me or taking advantage felt normal.
Friendships
Friendships were another minefield. I often ended up with “friends” who were bullies that enjoyed teasing and alienating me from others for fun. I learned to mask constantly, presenting a version of myself that fit their expectations while hiding my true self.
Discovering My Neurodivergence
When I discovered I was autistic and had ADHD, I felt both relief and grief. Relief because there was finally a name for my struggles, and grief because of the years I lost trying to fit into a neurotypical mould. Unmasking has been terrifying. After decades of pretending to be someone else, I barely know who I am.
Therapy has been instrumental in this journey. Working with a neurodivergence-aware therapist is helping me untangle the mess of emotions and unlearn the harmful messages I internalised. For the first time, I’m recognising my needs as valid. I have to admit, I’m kinda pissed that I’m finding all of this out in my 40s.
Why I Advocate for My Kids
I see my children in the struggles I had growing up, and I refuse to let them endure the same dismissal and neglect. Diagnosis is not about labelling them—it’s about equipping them with the tools and understanding they need to thrive. Adults find it more difficult to be dismissive if a child comes armed with a diagnosis.
Listening to Their Needs
If my child tells me they can’t eat a certain food, I believe them. If noise is bothering them, I do what I can to reduce it. They don’t need to justify their feelings to me. Often, addressing those needs leads to them feeling more relaxed and able to build some tolerance, or have the confidence to try things again.
Fighting for Support
I’ll attend as many school meetings as it takes to ensure their needs are met. I won’t let them be labelled as “difficult” or “lazy.” Issues that some may see as unimportant will be raised and addressed.
Teaching Them to Trust Themselves
I want my kids to grow up knowing their feelings and instincts are valid. They deserve to live authentically, without the shame or confusion I carried for so long. There are other autisitic kids around us that have grown up knowing about their situation and they are thriving. The carry confidence and zero sense of shame, they are a true inspiration for me and my family.
Breaking the Cycle
I’m not angry at my family. They did their best with the knowledge they had. But times have changed, and we now understand so much more about neurodivergence. My children won’t have to endure what I did because the cycle stops here.
If you’re raising neurodivergent children, or suspect you might be neurodivergent yourself, know this: your needs matter. It’s not too late to unlearn harmful patterns and advocate for yourself and your family. We all deserve to be seen, heard, and supported.
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