So, you’re thinking about neurodiversity. Maybe you suspect you might be neurodivergent, or someone you know mentioned it, or—like me—it’s been hanging in the back of your mind for a while after I started following some people on social media and went holy shit I am like that! Heads up: this isn’t a neat, step-by-step guide. Nope. It’s my honest take on what I wish someone had handed me before I walked into that waiting room and got my whole perspective flipped upside down. It was pretty stormy for a hot minute pre and post diagnoses before things leveled out.
Neurodiversity: Spoiler, It’s Not Just About Labels
When you first look up neurodiversity, the internet throws a lot of words at you. Autism, ADHD, Dyslexia, Bipolar, conditions that change how brains work, sure—but that’s not the whole story. Here’s what nobody told me early on:
- Neurodiversity isn’t one thing. It’s a buffet. Lots of brains, loads of flavors.
- Being neurodivergent means your brain might do things “differently,” not “wrong.” Although society would have you believe the latter.
- It’s not about having a this big intimidating medical label, It’s about understanding your mind. Something I wished I would have explored before now
Before I understood neurodiversity, life felt like attending a party where everyone else received a different invitation than mine. I didn't know the unwritten social choreography, couldn't appreciate the sensory environment that others seemed to enjoy, and constantly wondered why I felt so out of sync. That confusion comes from people expecting you to be just like everyone else.
Getting Diagnosed: The Awkward Plot Twist
Maybe you’re thinking a diagnosis is like getting a magical answer to a confusing puzzle. Honestly? It’s weird at first. One minute, it’s relief—finally, an explanation! The next, I'm second-guessing everything. Like how could I have not known all this before the age of 40. Fun fact many neurodiverse women are diagnosed late in life about the time perimenopause hits.
What hit me hardest?
- There was no aha! moment (other than when I started following people). Information crept in slowly, like waiting for an old computer to load a new window.
- I couldn’t always trust my feelings about it. Some days I felt seen. Other days, invisible.
- Labels are supposed to guide, but they can also box you in. “Oh, you’re that kind.” No thanks. That type of thinking is why I keep some parts of my diagnoses to myself.
Still, I found some peace-being neurodivergent is simply about brains developing or working differently. That’s it. It’s not a glitch. Ok well sometimes especially when talking to neurotypical people or people that aren't that smart then cue the glitch.
Expectations Vs. Reality—And Why Nobody Talks About the Muddy Middle
Here’s the part people gloss over: the gray zone between suspecting and actually knowing. Nobody prepares you for the micro-annoyances:
- Doctors love checklists. You start feeling like a walking set of boxes to tick. And when certain boxes are ticked they are hands off.
- Friends and family mean well, but sometimes their questions (and comments 😒) are impossible to ignore and equally impossible to escape.
- The relief is real, but so is the doubt. Did I “miss out” on help? Do I need more support now? Am I just faking?
Self-doubt becomes a shadow. Still, real relief comes from learning I wasn't pretending (well mostly) and embracing who I really am after all these years. There are whole communities and resources for neurodiverse people that helped me remember— there are others out there that actually get it.
So How did I receive my Neurodiversity Diagnosis?
I had just moved when everything started to change, wild moments of rage, and severe emotional regulation also with severe depression and anxiety. I rarely left the house or my bedroom for weeks and would only get up to work (I worked at home at the time). Then I would crawl back into bed some days right after work. Not ideal right? My primary doctor started trying different medications because she didn't really know what was going on and was trying different things to help.
Ironically when she prescribed me Amitriptyline she said well this has an effect on IBS if it didn't help my depression. Well holy hell it didn't just help my IBS it cured it. For the first time in over 20 years I could eat things like dairy and chocolate wasn't able to eat this whole time. Well that certainly helped the depression big WHOA moment.
I had brought up neurodiversity self diagnoses and she said there was maybe something to it and referred me to a neuropsychologist who after a month of completing assessments and meeting with her diagnosed me with ADHD, PTSD, GAD and a few other things. After meeting with my primary doc again to discuss the results I was urgently referred to a psyciatrist to get help as soon as possible.
I could have been weeks otherwise so I am very fortunate it was only a couple of weeks of waiting. But it is NOT just a quick fix especially for someone like me (because why not). I spent the next 4 months tweaking different medications and I am happy to report the combination I currently have is amazing. I have never felt better and get to live the rest of my life being authentically me (for the most part some situations still require some masking).
What I Wish Someone Had Said (Loudly and Clearly)
Nobody hands you a “what now?” checklist after a diagnosis. So if I could go back, here’s what I’d want someone to say to me:
1. You’re Still You—Diagnosis or Not
Seriously, nothing about you vanished or changed. You’re not broken. You’re not suddenly different. You just got a new pair of glasses—you can see things sharper, that’s all. I was just given the diagnostic information and told to contact my primary doctor. My primary sent an emergency referral to a psychiatrist. So over two weeks post diagnosis I finally received help after years of suffering.
My therapist was the only one that told me I am still me and that the diagnoses doesn't change anything from how I was yesterday but that was a few weeks later after the whirlwind of appointments and tests. Sometimes my own imagination on how things are at the moment is-shall I say less than ideal (hello catastrophizing).
2. Community Beats Isolation Every Time
Finding people who “get it” made a world of difference. Whether it’s through online forums or communities, support groups, or someone you know personally, you’re not as alone as you think. This was huge for me. I went from following neurodivergent influencers to being engaged in online in communities meeting some pretty awesome people. My blogging coach is neurodivergent and has been such a huge help for me in getting my writing started. I've wanted to do it for years and just like the diagnosis, I met her and had direction for the first time in my life. You can follow Sadie at passive income pathways.
3. Labels Are Tools, Not Straightjackets
There’s this idea that a diagnosis locks you in a box, but actually, it opens doors. You finally have words to ask for what you need. Want more quiet? Need deadlines written down? Now you’ve got the reason. Post diagnosis I finally felt like I could have the boundaries I always desired because I could say I need x because of y.
I also started wearing headphones in public for the first time. Prior to that my family would call me out and still sometimes do for me being dramatic due to noise sensitivity. My Anker soundcore headphones have been life changing. I call them my blue bullshit blockers.
I am also wearing my weighted hoodie from Thera in this photo. We went to a Christmas even at the zoo. Lots of children=lots of triggers. What actually triggered me the worst though was the tiger upset people were there after the zoo closed his cries made me tear up and be sad (damn perimenopause hormones).
4. It’s Okay To Be Angry, Sad, Relieved, or All Three
No need to perform gratitude or pretend you’ve got it all figured out. Nobody does (even when they insist they do). It’s a mix of feelings that don’t line up neatly. Just ride the wave that is coming at you at that moment in time. And don't worry about the next wave that might come (gee I need to take my own advice on that one)
Whew, That Explains a Lot—The “Ohhhh” Moments
After my diagnosis, life started making weird sense. Things that always bugged me? Quirks that made school tough, jobs awkward, or relationships confusing? It all connected. Textures, noises, that deep exhaustion from pretending to “fit in”—not random, not imaginary.
I really wonder though how long it would have really taken to get diagnosed if perimenopause hadn't come kicking down my door like the kool-aid man and wrecking my life, making my triggers intensify in a way I didn't know was possible. And quite honestly never really knew they were there, I spent my whole life being told to suck it up I am fine. And I had a very insane and stressful job at the time that my therapist said contributed a lot to my struggles.
Finding Support—And Why It Can Be Hit-or-Miss
Navigating support after a diagnosis? That’s its own adventure. Sometimes it feels like wandering through a dark hall, but the halls are long. I learned support goes way beyond therapy or medication:
- Advocacy: Asking for what you need without guilt. Yes, it’s hard. No, you’re not “needy.” I am super blessed to have an amazing supportive partner in life. I really try not to think where I would be without that support.
- Resources: There’s so much more out there now. I have found solace and community in the Facebook groups I am in.
- Workplace Realities: Some jobs are supportive, some aren’t. Knowing your rights and needs are a big help in getting the things you need. And It also helps to differentiate what isn't working for you. I am in this facebook group for neurodiverse career support and this one for neurodiverse job hunters. My reality is I am not able to work a traditional job currently so I am doing a lot of writing and starting my own business. I already have a pet sitting business that I have been doing for awhile prior to having to leave my career.
The Road Isn’t Linear. Spoiler: That’s Normal
Nobody has a tidy healing arc. You stumble. Sometimes you’re fired up to take on the world. Other times, you want to hide. It’s all part of the ride.
Key things that keep me sane:
- Short breaks when the world’s loud
- Stimming (yes, fidgeting is allowed)
- Clear schedules instead of vague plans
There’s no “right way” to live as a neurodiverse person. I got tired of pretending, so now I just do my thing—quirks and all.
Final Thoughts: The Best Part Nobody Saw Coming
You know what’s wild? After all the self-doubt, all the weird looks, all the “why am I like this”—there’s a quiet confidence brewing. Turns out, being yourself openly, in all your messy glory, is less exhausting than acting a part. I found my “people.” I found new hacks for work, friendships, and everything in between. Yes, there are rough days. But finding your own rhythm? Honestly, that’s freedom.
So if you’re on this neurodiverse journey—or suspect your brain does the tango (or zumba) a bit differently—welcome to the club. Don’t stress the label. Build your toolkit. Remember, variety makes this world interesting; you’re proof of that.
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Amber
Amber has been neurodivergent her whole life, though she only received her diagnosis after turning 40. Following a challenging relationship and a move to a new city, she finally discovered that her brain's “alternative software” explained the uniqueness she had always experienced. Now hyperfocused on all things neurodiversity (along with crafting, designing, Stranger Things, and other special interests), Amber is building a community for people with misunderstood minds. Her mission is to help fellow neurodivergent individuals navigate this chaotic world that wasn't designed with their operating systems in mind. Through humor, authenticity, and a healthy dose of sarcasm, Amber creates connections where people can laugh about shared experiences that only they understand. She celebrates what others might call “weird” as actually being wonderful, creative, and powerful. By embracing these differences together, she believes neurodivergent individuals can form deeper, more meaningful connections based on genuine understanding and mutual appreciation of their extraordinary minds.
