Neurodivergent realities

Two and a half years ago it would never have thought I had adhd or autism.

Many people talk about discovering their autism or adhd during the pandemic, as the pressures of life pushed people who had always functioned "ok" into burnout. This experience led them to learn about the neurodivergent traits that they had managed to hide so well no one had ever considered it. Other people talk about getting a diagnosis after their children did, when they (or their children's therapists) discovered that they shared many traits.

This was not my experience.

Yes, early in the pandemic I hit the point where I could no longer function. But that led me to a therapist who identified my depression (after all, I opened with that) and also my anxiety, which I had not been aware of. Antidepressants got my depression under control quickly, and for the first time in my life I began to understand that there were two different – but intertwined – things going on here – depression, and anxiety.

The idea that I had a problem with anxiety wasn't entirely new – I had considered it for a few years – but managing my depression let me see anxiety as a separate thing. And there I stayed for the next four years, until a new psychiatrist noticed my continued anxiety, noted how low my dose was, and upped it to a more normal dose. And suddenly, another layer was peeled away.

But I'm getting ahead of the story. My pandemic story of discovery instead starts with the Stanford Neurodiversity Summit in (I believe) 2022. My wife was attending the summit (virtually) so I ended up watching some of the presenters. And to my amazement, the descriptions of adhd sounded incredibly familiar. It really sounded like they were talking about me.

I wouldn't have thought I had adhd. I'm not hyperactive. I'm quite capable of sitting still – sitting perfectly still. I can sit totally motionless. Sure, I swing my leg back and forth or bounce my knee sometimes. Well, pretty much constantly. But I can also focus really well. Amazingly well. Better than anyone else.

And so it went. I discovered that the very traits that would have led me to rule out adhd did, in fact, point quite strongly to adhd. Eventually I was able to make an appointment for testing (or rather, my wife did it for me; how people with adhd are supposed to navigate the barriers that stand in the way of diagnosis and treatment is beyond me).

By the time I was able to get a date for an assessment (months out, of course) I had learned a lot about adhd, and was pretty sure I had it. But a passing comment to my wife ("at least I'm not autistic") threw me back into a confusion when she replied "Are you sure?"

So now I had something else to dive into. Could I possibly be autistic? A year ago that thought would have never crossed my mind. And now – well now, I see it more and more. This past summer I got the assessment, and it said I was both autistic and had adhd. Eventually I was able to get meds for adhd (which have been incredibly helpful) and now...well now, with my adhd somewhat managed, I am starting to see myself as quite autistic. Traits that were masked – by depression, by anxiety, by adhd – are now visible to me. And the extra "space" makes me aware of things I would not have seen.

It isn't actually that great. When all your energy isn't consumed just holding things together, you get to notice other things. You get to speak about other things. You end up in situations of conflict because you say things you would never have said before.

It's so weird to start to get to know yourself in your mid-50s.