behind every late diagnosed woman
is a little girl
who knew this world
was never made for her
but could never explain why.
- girl (remastered) by Jessica Jocelyn
First part: My brain
as a kid, i never fit in anywhere. sure, i had my friends but there was always this clear border between me and everyone else, some social concept they all knew, but i didn’t. apart from actual experiences of exclusions due to something being different about me, i didn’t really bother. i thought of myself as a happy child, even though i was chronically plagued by insomnia and often nightmarish stomach issues.
three days ago i started a book and the acknowledgments resembled with me:
To all the Autistics I met online, before I knew who I was. Your friendship provided an oasis when I was at my most miserable adrift.
Back when I could feel there was this massive secret regarding social interactions of any kind and I wasn’t in on it, I learned it all through the internet. Through texting, through finding people who felt like me. I slowly learned the rules of what it means to behave ‘more normal’ in this society.
And I was lucky in some regards, as even as a young teen, I did find friends outside of school who liked me for me, I found all the other discarded misfit toys and I never had to mask around my parents. I found idols like Aurora or dodie on the internet, who made me feel not alone. So that gave a foundation to build on, to hold onto, to grow with stability underneath.
Three years ago, when the whole neurodivergence issue was still a lot smaller on Social Media, one of my closest friends went on a journey of self-discovery and it all made sense. Since then, I know a LOT about ADHD and Autism. I just never thought I could relate it to me and my issues, because I did well in school, and I procrastinate but not ‘that bad’ and yes I am constantly exhausted, but at least I’m not actually depressed or have an anxiety disorder. It didn’t matter that I felt all of these things for times and that I definitely knew all symptoms, just maybe a little less strong.
Since then, around 80% of all people who are important to me have been diagnosed or suspect it. The apple never falls far from the tree, huh.
Around last summer, just because of one comment from one of my diagnosed friends “Are you sure you don’t have it as well?” I started reading up on it and relating it to me. And boy, it sure did relate a lot! Every single fucking aspect. And it provided an answer to basically everything. It explained why I could never fit in as a child, which at some point I just explained by thinking there was something fundamentally wrong with me. It explained why it was always so hard to get the tiniest tasks done (doing homework that I actually wanted to do, fucking brushing my teeth or going to the toilet before my bladder physically hurts, doing the simplest tasks hours before I had to be somewhere, etc.) It explained why school was so draining even though I loved learning and I excelled in school and why everything was still stressing me out even though I had close friends to hold onto - surprise, masking everything is exhausting as fuck!
I had always been the loud kid, until nobody wanted to listen, until there was never the right time to say something and then I just went quiet. And every ounce of energy that needed releasing was bottled up, until the wrong spoon or missing the bus by one minute would lead me into a spiral of desperate sobs and anger. I was never angry at the whole world, but I could always feel stress broding in me, released by the tiniest thing not going according to plan. And I always leashed out on my closest people and I always felt like shit afterwards but it felt like something inside of me that wasn’t me but I could never control it.
Two years ago, I finished school. Since then, it’s all getting better in massive chunks, like my brain is trying to catch up from all the hurt that had been caused in speed drive.
But it also all makes sense: I work in my special interest, which kind of people I see is very controlled and they’re all kind of like me. I know how to talk to people. If I don’t know how to small talk, no biggie, I’ll just find something, if it’s music, films or fashion for us to talk about. Years of observing every tiniest detail of social interaction has made me an expert. Nevermind that I still stare, you can always read every emotion off my face or that it takes me 5 seconds longer to get most jokes.
Three years ago, during a very shitty time in my life, I went to see a therapist, who had to give me an initial meeting. I told her how much I was struggling and how fucking bad I felt, but because I presented this in a very calm and collected matter and I was doing good in school and was in a stable relationship she basically told me I couldn’t be depressed. Go fuck yourself, I hope you never work with kids again!
So I am scared of seeking out diagnosis. And I know that I fall into the mean score for autistic people in the RAADS-R test, which is now officially considered a diagnosis criteria and I know my mind and my symptoms, but I am still a woman and I haven’t been depressed in a while. I hate how being neurodivergent is always just looked at from angles of the symptoms that occur when a neurodivergent is put into a neurotypical society and doesn’t get accomodations.
Because my brain isn’t inherently ill, there is nothing fundamentally wrong with the neurological difference, I don’t need fixing! Yes, I might wear headphones and go nonverbal if I am in an uncontrollable crowd when I’m drunk but let’s be for real, who the fuck feels comfortable in big drunk crowds anyways?
I think for me personally, I explained so much of what felt different about me compared to ‘the norm’ by knowing that I just feel things so very intensely, all the time. Good or bad, it’s always 150%.
But lately, I’ve been feeling so happy. And I know there will be harsh times again, but right now is pretty fucking amazing. I finally quit my bad old job and I work with people who are the biggest sweethearts and I have work accomodations that work well with a brain that can’t focus just because it’s forced to. And I don’t mask at work and nobody cares if I make weird noises again or babble nonsense sometimes. And I know that my work and the way I organize things and can never just half-heartedly do one project is appreciated.
And it’s so freeing to just …. be and not be constantly exhausting just by living.
Second Part: Manic Pixie Dream Girls, Mentally Ill Friends, Not Being Like Other Girls
When I was younger, I always related heavily to girls and women on screen who were characterized as ‘Manic Pixie Dream Girls’. MPDG’s are quirky, fun, often wear odd clothes or have coloured hair, have ‘cool, niche interests’ and have no regard for social norms. They’re also usually written for the male protagonist to discover a different view of the world and are then discarded, because they’re never stable enough.
Examples of MPDG’s are: Clementine in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Ramona Flowers in Scott Pilgrim, Summer in 500 Days of Summer, Sam in The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and Penny Lane in Almost Famous.
I LOVED all these female characters, I idolized them and felt understood. All of these women were written as neurodivergent characters without giving them the label. I’m kind of glad I did not like boys growing up because that sure could’ve lead to me being taken advantage of, as has happened to so many other neurodivergent girls growing up.
After years of not fitting in, I just searched for representation and people who understood how I felt elsewhere. And it gave me a wall to build around my heart and protect it, but it also made me resent everything normal, everyone who wouldn’t think outside the box. In other terms, I was so chronically online during the Tumbr Era, that I embodied the ‘I’m not like other Girls’ mindset wholeheartedly. Pair that with coming out at 12 in a small town with maybe 3 queer kids in the whole grade and a fashion sense that did not consist of skinny jeans and crop tops, and the perfect misanthrope is born. If I am already othered, might as well give them something to stare it. Yes, I am pairing the chunkiest platforms of 10cm with a long flowy white skirt when going to school, cry about it. It’s funny, now that I don’t dress as eccentric and edgy anymore, it feels weird not being stared at everywhere I go.
Part of why I felt so understood by the people I had met was because they were all struggling with life. All of them were mentally ill to some degree. And me, who thought of herself as strong and just not struggling that bad, felt like I could fix what was wrong with them. Savior complex bitches, unite! But it also takes a toll on a 13 year old girl to call up the mum of some internet friend because she tweeted that she had taken a pill overdosis. And being around mentally ill people so much that arms covered with deep self harm scars aren’t even worthy of getting a second look or suicide jokes are something you just laugh off do something with someone who isn’t ‘as sick’. I always had to work, to function. I ignored everything that stressed me out and made me feel bad because it was never ‘that bad’ and my friends were doing so much worse. Kind of glad that I don’t have to worry about my friends now every time they don’t text back for two days.
Conclusion
As I am writing this, I should be getting ready for breakfast with someone who’s picking me up. I know that I will have to hurry as soon as I’m done writing this, and I know that I should proof-read this and edit parts but also, this is my brain! So I’ll be posting it this way, because if I don’t finish this right now it’ll take three weeks to be picked up again. I wanted to write about this for 2 months now.
Okay, back to the conclusion.
I am undiagnosed. I also know I am neurodivergent, probably a comorbidity of ADHD and Autism. I know that there has always been something different about me, but now I have an explanation. And this difference neither makes me better or worse than neurotypicals. And life gets so much better once you’re able to believe that there is nothing fundamentally wrong with you, just different.
And even if you’re not actually neurodivergent or might ‘just’ suspect it, I propose you do some research. (Btw, I don’t mean self-diagnosing TikToks of people who list 8 icks and then diagnose you.) Because even if you don’t have it, chances are someone you know is not neurotypical and just others understanding how the neurodivergent brain works helps so much.
There is so much yet to understand but I am positive that at some point we will all be a little kinder to the kid who flaps their arms and doesn’t know when to shut up and who dresses a little weird.
There is so much more I could say about this whole topic, but for now it’s enough I think.
Media I recommend:
i'm not an alien i'm just autistic by Savannah Brown
Kirmes im Kopf - ADHS im Erwachsenenalter
Tiktok Gave Me Autism: The Politics of Self Diagnosis by Alexander Avila
any youtube compilation of people like AURORA or Grimes just being themselves, unfiltered
Unmasking Autism by Devon Price
Too Much by Girl In Red and Cure For Me by AURORA
Feel free to tell me your thoughts about this very messy piece :))
as a late diagnosed autistic girl, I absolutely love this and your writing is amazing!!!
reading this made me so emotional- i got my autism diagnosis a couple of years ago and i honestly don’t know where i’d be now without it. thank you so much for sharing your experience <3