December 3, 2024
At the age of 37, I was diagnosed with autism and ADHD

At the age of 37, I was diagnosed with autism and ADHD

  • I didn’t know I was neurodivergent until I was 37.
  • I only found out after I took my son for the diagnosis.
  • I come across as an organized person, spending hours mapping out my day and running through to-do lists in my head.

Working as a special educator with neurodiverse students For ten years, I didn’t realize I was neurodivergent until I was 37.

My son always had a lot of energy compared to his siblings, but he didn’t have typical energy signs of ADHD or autism. He walked, talked and showed impressive social skills early on. His challenges were not apparent to me until he started school in person.

When his teacher asked him to show mathematical solutions “three ways,” he argued and then ran out of the classroom. When his principal told him he couldn’t wander the halls all day, he said, “Why? I’m safe.’

I saw myself in him

Faced with his escalating behavior, I recognized the same issues from my childhood, although I never acted on the impulse to leave the classroom when I was overwhelmed.

I worked closely with his psychiatrist. We needed to help my son find stability and support his brain chemistry so he could regulate his emotions, make friends, and stay in class. At the age of six, he was officially diagnosed with autism and ADHD.

Then the doctor offered to evaluate me. At first I said no. As a single working mother of three, with a successful long-term job in education and the arts, I saw myself as calm and fairly relaxed. But then I thought: why not?

My perspective changed after the psychiatrist completed the evaluation and told me that I have both ADHD and autism. A 2022 study shows that ADHD can occur in approximately 40% to 70% of people diagnosed with autism, and that both run in families.

She explained that hyperactivity – especially in late-diagnosed women like me – can occur internally. It manifested in my tendency to overcommitto make quick, sometimes impulsive decisions, and to often annoy my friends and romantic partners by interrupting when I was excited about their ideas. The most illuminating part of my diagnosis had to do with routines, sensory issues, and masking.

At first I had difficulty accepting the diagnosis

Although I seemed like an organized and thorough person, I repeatedly spent a lot of energy mapping out my day going through to-do lists in my head. I managed anxiety with sensory-seeking behaviors like extreme workouts and hot yoga. My doctor emphasized the ritualistic way I cleaned my house and completed my work.

I had difficulty accepting the diagnosis. Unlike most of my clients diagnosed with autism, I was quite good with language: a professional writer, speech therapist, and college writing teacher. My doctor was unfazed. She said she diagnosed women like me all the time, and that it was a myth that neurodivergent people had difficulty with linguistic and communication skills.

My doctor asked me questions about how I learned to connect with others. As I responded, it became clear that I spent a lot of time watching people, copying them, remembering their requests for different types of affection, and adapting to their comments on my facial expressions and body language.

“You’ve done a lot of work,” my doctor said gently. “Most people don’t have to do that much work.”

I find a new community

Now that I’ve accepted my diagnosis and spent a year learning how these diagnoses play out for people like me, I’ve found new neurodivergent colleagues and friends. The medication ensures that I can concentrate more softly and reduces my anxiety. With the help of my community, I’m discovering ways to teach myself to listen and focus better. Although I’ve stopped rushing around and completing too many projects, I now make better decisions about my time management and find more joy in what I do.

Although the challenges with my son have been difficult for him and our family, I am grateful for the journey we have endured. We learn to navigate our own thinking, support the parts of our brain that make our lives more challenging, and also see our strengths.

Asha Dore, (AshaDore.net), a speech therapist, is working on a memoir.