Living with a Late Diagnosis: Learning to Reconnect with Myself

Receiving a late diagnosis of ADHD and autism can feel like a mix of closure and disbelief. For years, you may have questioned yourself, hidden your true self, and learned to adapt to a world that didn’t always feel safe for your neurodivergent traits. For me, it took years to understand why I’d spent so long in denial, and what it meant to finally embrace who I am.

Childhood and the need to mask

When I was younger, stimming and expressing my natural behaviours didn't always feel safe. I quickly learned to hide my stims and adapt to the expectations around me. I became hyperaware of how I acted and moved, developing high masking skills as a way to feel some sense of safety. Masking allowed me to navigate my environment, but it also meant supressing a lot of what made me, me. Over time, I adapted my behaviour in ways the protected me from judgement or misunderstanding, while also carrying the stress and tension of hiding my true self. 

Denial and the journey to acceptance

Even after learning I had ADHD in 2021 and then autism in 2023, I spent two years in denial. Part of that denial came from what I was told "You're just a bad child", "You need control" then phrases of "You don't look like it". There is no specific way someone with autism and ADHD are "Meant" to act, look or behave. Every neurodivergent experience is unique, and masking can make traits even less visible. Self acceptance isn't instant, Its gradual. Its about giving yourself permission to belie that what you've always felt and experienced isn't "Wrong" or "Too much", even if nobody else sees it.

Learning safety and reconnecting with yourself

One of the most profound shifts I've noticed is how my stimming changes depending on safety. Around my partner, and in truly safe spaces, I find myself allowing my body to release tension. I vocal stim, even when I'm cleaning, finding something, making a cuppa, tidying, cooking anything. By vocal stimming I mean sing or hum. Its either different songs or the same part of a song over and over. I've had it in workplaces "You're always singing", "I love it when I hear you singing away" or "I can always tell when you're coming". When I was younger  even in my teens and adulthood, I learnt to sit on the floor, it calmed me, it helped me regulate. I didn't feel comfortable in my environments if I sat on the floor. Stimming isn't strange or attention seeking; its my nervous system releasing tension that has been held in for decades. Suppression builds stress, emotional overwhelm, and even physical tension. Allowing myself to stim in safe spaces has been life changing, because it's not embarrassment, its about survival and self regulation. 

The role of reassurance

I grew up with little reassurance. My great nana and my grandma gave me encouragement until they passed, and my grandad supported me until dementia gradually took him away. Since then, I've had decades without a safety net. Now even in my 30's, I notice that my stimming and self expression are ways of seeking and feeling safe, not necessarily a need for confidence validation. Safety matters more than self-esteem alone. Being seen, accepted and unjudged allows my body and mind to finally relax and reconnect with my authentic self. 

High masking and its hidden costs

High masking helped me navigate the world, but it came at a cost. Supressing stims, emotions and neurodivergent traits creates a body and mind that is consistently alert. Emotions get bottled up, stress mounts, interactions can feel overwhelming. Sometimes, when you tell people you're ADHD or autistic, you'll hear "You don't look like it" or "You don't seem autistic", but there is no specific way to act, look or behave as a neurodivergent. Every persons experience is different, and high masking can hide traits even from those closest to you. The tension of masking invisible to the outside world, but internally, it takes a toll. Supressing yourself for years shapes how your nervous system reacts, your body carries the stress, the overwhelm and the emotions that were never safe to release. Understanding this is the first step toward giving yourself permission to exist fully and safely. 

Relearning how to be yourself

Now I'm learning to adapt to myself instead of hiding. I allow my stims when I feel safe, I hum songs, I move my body, and I honour the release it gives me. Safety isn't just physical, it's emotional. The more I practice it, the more my nervous system recalibrates after ' decades of suppression. Late diagnosis' isn't just a label, it's a doorway. It's a chance to reconnect with yourself, to let your nervous system and body feel what was always natural, and to finally exist without fear. 

Call to reflection