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Neurodiversity
Why Late Diagnoses Hit Different
The emotional rollercoaster of learning you’re neurodivergent.
Posted February 9, 2025 Reviewed by Abigail Fagan
Key points
- Late diagnosis brings relief, grief, and frustration as past struggles suddenly make sense.
- Systemic biases delay diagnoses, especially for women, BIPOC, and queer individuals.
- Traits seen as failures are often valid neurodivergent experiences, leading to self-compassion.
Have you ever had one of those moments where everything in your life suddenly clicks into place—but instead of relief, you just feel like screaming into the void? That was me, sitting on my couch at 2 AM, scrolling through neurodivergent TikTok, realizing that my entire personality was actually a collection of undiagnosed ADHD and autistic traits.
Finding out you’re neurodivergent as an adult is a mind-blowing revelation. There’s no better way to say it. It’s like discovering a hidden director's commentary on your life, except the commentary is just a voice yelling, "THIS EXPLAINS EVERYTHING!" It’s equal parts freeing, validating, and absolutely infuriating. Because now you know why everything felt so hard—but you also can’t help but grieve the years spent trying to force yourself into a neurotypical mold that was never meant for you. Research even backs this up—one study found that late-diagnosed autistic adults report feelings of validation, self-understanding, and regret over missed support (Lewis, 2016).
The "Oh, Sh*t" Phase
Most late-diagnosed neurodivergent folks have a specific moment where the pieces fall into place. Maybe it was reading a list of ADHD symptoms and realizing it described your entire existence. Maybe it was an autism traits post that hit way too close to home. For me, it wasn't until I had completed grad school and was working in the mental health field as a therapist that I started connecting the dots. I had chalked up all of those autistic traits to be connected to my trauma symptoms, not realizing that those traits had also contributed to the trauma I experienced. Being "highly sensitive" may include feeling and experiencing trauma in deep ways that I didn’t understand.
Cue the existential crisis.
This phase is wild because suddenly, your past starts making sense in ways you never imagined. Why school felt impossible even though you were "so smart." Why you never quite fit in with friend groups. Why working a regular job felt like a slow descent into madness. It’s all there, laid out like an instruction manual you never got.
The "I’m Not Broken" Phase
And then, right after the existential dread, comes the relief. You’re not lazy. You’re not failing at life because you "just need to try harder." Your brain is literally wired differently. That thing where you hyperfocus for eight hours straight and forget to eat? That’s not just "bad time management." That’s how your brain works. That sensory overload that makes you want to crawl out of your skin? That’s not "being too sensitive."
You start to forgive yourself for things you’ve beaten yourself up about for years. And honestly? That part feels pretty good.
The "How Didn’t Anyone Catch This Sooner?" Phase
Right when you start to get comfortable with your newfound understanding, the rage phase hits. HARD.
How did nobody see this? Why did no teacher, therapist, caregiver, or doctor ever think to suggest that maybe you weren’t just "anxious" or "not applying yourself"? The answer, for many of us, is ableism.
If you were socialized as a girl, chances are your neurodivergence was ignored because you weren’t disruptive enough. If you’re BIPOC, your symptoms were likely dismissed or misdiagnosed. If you grew up queer, there’s a good chance people saw your struggles as just part of "being different." And let’s not even get started on how mental health care is still catching up on recognizing autism and ADHD in adults. Research has found that masking neurodivergence is linked to higher rates of anxiety, depression, and burnout (Hull et al., 2017). No wonder so many of us are exhausted.
And it’s not just you—neurodivergent folks are more likely to be queer compared to neurotypical peers (Warrier et al., 2020). Guess we really do collect identities like Pokémon.
The "Okay, So Now What?" Phase
Once the rage simmers down (or at least becomes a manageable, low-grade fury), you realize you still have a whole life to navigate. Now you know you’re neurodivergent—but what do you do with that information?
You start learning about accommodations, not just in work and school, but in everyday life. Maybe you start giving yourself permission to stim without shame. Maybe you finally embrace your need for structure and routines instead of trying to force yourself to "go with the flow." Maybe you stop beating yourself up for needing noise-canceling headphones at the grocery store.
You also start finding community. Because if there’s one thing neurodivergent folks do best, it’s creating spaces where we can exist authentically. And let me tell you, finding your people—people who get it, who validate your experiences, who don’t expect you to mask or explain yourself—is life-changing. Research backs this up too—neurodivergent community spaces improve self-esteem, reduce internalized ableism, and boost mental health (Cage et al., 2018).
Living Unapologetically Neurodivergent
So here you are, officially diagnosed (or self-identified, which is valid too), navigating a world that wasn’t built for your brain. And while that’s overwhelming as heck, it’s also kind of incredible.
Because now, you get to stop fighting against yourself. Now, you get to build a life that actually works for you, not one designed to please neurotypical expectations.
And if anyone has a problem with that? Well, that sounds like a them problem.
Welcome to the rest of your life—unmasked and unapologetic.
References
Cage, E., Di Monaco, J., & Newell, V. (2018). Experiences of autism acceptance and mental health in autistic adults. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 48(2), 473-484. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-017-3342-7
Hull, L., Petrides, K. V., Allison, C., Smith, P., Baron-Cohen, S., Lai, M. C., & Mandy, W. (2017). "Putting on My Best Normal": Social camouflaging in adults with autism spectrum conditions. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 47(8), 2519-2534. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-017-3166-5
Lewis, L. F. (2016). Exploring the experience of self-diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder in adults. Archives of Psychiatric Nursing, 30(5), 575-580. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.apnu.2016.03.009
Warrier, V., Greenberg, D. M., Weir, E., Buckingham, C., Smith, P., Lai, M.-C., Allison, C., & Baron-Cohen, S. (2020). Elevated rates of autism, other neurodevelopmental and psychiatric diagnoses, and autistic traits in transgender and gender-diverse individuals. Nature Communications, 11, 3959. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41467-020-17794-1
