After diagnosys life - what changed?

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I confronted them about lying to themselves about my difficulties, and reminded them that, whilst denial might make things easier for them, it is damaging to me, because it makes them punish me for things which I cannot help as if I am doing them on purpose.

And what did they say?

They forced me to tell them what disorder I think I could have. When I told them ASD, they said that they had suspected it. But didn't do anything for years. And yelled at me when I suggested that I might have ASD a few years ago. I don't really understand why they would do any of it. Main thing is, they agreed to have me assessed!

What changed? Almost everything.

And some of it is positive, and some is negative. But, it's so worth it for the security and understanding it brings, I think.

I still go through a turmoil of emotions every week.

At times, it's so painfully negative. It brings despair. I went through nearly 30 years of my life believing that if I just kept trying, just kept making the effort, eventually I'd get better at the things I was no good at. Deep down I was probably beginning to accept that it wasn't true, but I always looked ahead at people a decade older and thought that they all had it so 'together' and I couldn't possibly reach their age and still be struggling the way I was, so my time would have to come. Being diagnosed was like the stamp that said "No. There's a reason you're useless at this stuff. And you always will be." That was very hard to come to terms with - accepting my limitations. I now know that I'm never going to be able to just have a smooth and comfortable conversation, or pick up the phone without fretting and planning for a day in advance. I now know that what I experience are shutdowns and meltdowns and are a part of my neurological wiring - I hate that I sometimes feel like I lose control, and that it's not something I can 'fix' even if I am now trying hard to manage it more effectively.

Before I was diagnosed, even when I was self-diagnosing, I wasn't fully aware of how much autism affected every aspect of my life. I genuinely believed that I was so high functioning I'd barely be diagnosed. Even when I was looking for every tiny sign to back up my self diagnosis, I missed so much. After being diagnosed, as well as accepting my limitations I had to come to terms with all of the 'autistic things' that I do. And there are many of them. And it's frustrating, upsetting and embarrassing at times. I am now acutely aware when I say or do something autistic, when I used to be so oblivious to it. It's like a screen has been lifted and I see what I'm really like, and that's very difficult to deal with.

But, on the other hand, it's brought self-confidence. It's a strange mix, feeling so much less and more confident at once, but that's how it's played out. I forgive myself, now. I know I'm weird, I know I say and do the wrong things sometimes and I know I have failings. I recognise them all. But they're not my fault. I forgive myself for them because I know that they're just who I am. They're not flaws - they're a disability. And, in turn, I've been more able to forgive others. After a lifetime of being bullied, excluded or simply treated in an unusual way, and fluctuating between 'there must be something wrong with me' and 'there is clearly something wrong with them, and they're all terrible people', I've learned to find the middle-ground. Yes, I am the issue with my autistic behaviours. Yes, they should be more accepting of difference. But, they don't know that I'm autistic and that's not my fault. And it's also not their fault, because they are NT and they're wired to struggle with people like me just as I'm wired to struggle with people like them.

And, more importantly, it's provided me with the opportunity to discover more about myself and to find ways to manage autism. I'm allowing myself a lot of accommodations that I would never have allowed myself in the past, because of my diagnosis. Accepting my limitations isn't just negative. It's not just a 'death sentence' for all of the stuff I wanted to get good at and never will. It's also a chance to stop trying so hard to achieve those things. To say that it's ok to struggle. To allow myself to take shortcuts and to get help with things that I 'should be able to do'. To not feel embarrassed if I need to take some time out in a busy place, or pull a stress ball out of my bag, or wear my sunglasses indoors, or ask my husband to make phone calls on my behalf. I can now reliably predict the situations that will give me issues, and find ways to manage that or to avoid it if possible. It sounds silly, but whilst I've always been upset by change and not being able to plan, and by busy and crowded places, I didn't actually realise those were the problems!

I found diagnosis to be so incredibly bittersweet, and it's the same every day. A constant mix of emotions.

Some moments, I feel absolute hopelessness. Others, I feel such incredible self-confidence. Sometimes, I feel so incredibly guilty for the things that I'm no good at and how they can affect the people around me. Other times, I feel so fortunate to have my answer and to understand why I am the way I am, and to be able to explain it to others if I need to. But most importantly, I feel hope for the future because the only way things can really get better is with me knowing and understanding myself, and forging a path with the right knowledge, instead of planning for a future that I was designing for the NT I thought I was.

I was diagnosed at age 50. I then spent the next 18 months questioning the diagnosis. It seemed "too easy" for a "label" to explain so many of life's challenges. Fortunately, I am beyond that point. I now accept the diagnosis and have adjusted my expectations accordingly.

Wow-- so similar to my experience, all I can say is-- THIS.

RIGHT?!

I am 31 and undiagnosed. I have a four year old son who was diagnosed in August. In researching ASD while seeking his diagnosis, I realized that I AM THE ONE THAT NEEDS A DIAGNOSIS!

I've explained it to people like this: It feels like someone told me I'm purple. I reached out my arm to say, "what are you talking about I'm not," and as I pulled up my sleeve to reveal purple flesh, "oh, holy cow, I'm PURPLE!! ! When did this happen?!" And then everyday since has been my constant revelation that I'm purple. Over and over again I'm struck with, "well that's why that kid called me a blueberry." Or, "well that's why they made fun of me." All day long. Ugh. Then I read these lists of "character traits" for women on the spectrum, which just brings me to tears all over again - to have all of my "eccentricities" spelled out as symptoms. I was never unique, I was disabled.

I have yet to have the positive feelings on this. Mostly, I just feel renewed in my eternal loneliness.

I got my diagnosis just a few days ago, but at the moment I feel much more relaxed. And sad, knowing that the things I find difficult will always be difficult (but I know why now, and that helps). And angry that it was missed for so long, and I was left to struggle.

I'm grateful that it wasn't a battle to get a diagnosis, but frustrated that there's very little help available for adults.

I understand myself far better now. I'm not good at verbalising my thoughts though, and am struggling to explain to other people 'what it is that makes me autistic'. Maybe I'll make a list, print it out and hand it to people when they ask.

I'm being kinder to myself now, and making allowances for myself that I wouldn't make before the diagnosis.

I am 31 and undiagnosed. I have a four year old son who was diagnosed in August. In researching ASD while seeking his diagnosis, I realized that I AM THE ONE THAT NEEDS A DIAGNOSIS!

I've explained it to people like this: It feels like someone told me I'm purple. I reached out my arm to say, "what are you talking about I'm not," and as I pulled up my sleeve to reveal purple flesh, "oh, holy cow, I'm PURPLE!! ! When did this happen?!" And then everyday since has been my constant revelation that I'm purple. Over and over again I'm struck with, "well that's why that kid called me a blueberry." Or, "well that's why they made fun of me." All day long. Ugh. Then I read these lists of "character traits" for women on the spectrum, which just brings me to tears all over again - to have all of my "eccentricities" spelled out as symptoms. I was never unique, I was disabled.

I have yet to have the positive feelings on this. Mostly, I just feel renewed in my eternal loneliness.

I'll be getting tested in a few weeks. "For science." (couldn't resist the quote with a picture of GLaDOS watching me. )

I'm 39, I think it fits, but I'm actually more worried that she's going to tell me I'm normal, because that would mean that I'm more broken, but if I'm Aspie then I'm just different, not broken.
Since starting the booking process I have been obsessing over it somewhat, doing a lot of imagining what it's going to be like and what I might say, thinking about all the things in my life that suggest I'm not normal, reading up on various aspie websites and trying out various online tests. I'm feeling very on edge about the whole thing and I can't escape it. I just want it done so that I know one way or the other. Because if I'm NT then I need to face up to my difficulties and just get over it, but if I'm not then I need to just find ways to work around them and I can explain to people why I'm different.