Late Life autism diagnosis

I have spent a lifetime trying to find balance between how I feel inside and how the world responds to me. All my life, I am a stand and support for others to find their good, their true path. I enjoy introducing people and sharing everything I learn so everyone has the opportunity to gain all they can, which eventually led to becoming a psychotherapist. I recently heard someone describe this helper part of me as, “when you are up, others are up.” Granted, becoming a therapist is always about learning about me but the original intention was to help others end their suffering, and I stick to that goal.

I have always believed and gathered evidence that I wasn’t smart enough. I never felt I could fit in anywhere—emotionally awkward, never feeling as cool as others seemed to be no matter how I mimicked clothing, hair, styles, cars—never feeling I belonged. I experienced supporting others only to have them sideswipe me with harms. I do stand up and try again and again and again, but was getting tired in my Long Covid illness and loneliness. Only the people closest to me saw these struggles, and only a few have stayed with me on this journey. I tried my best to live my life independently, failing often but never giving up. When young, I learned the rewards for my independence. I learned early that people were inconsistent, inspiring me to create a personality that seemed strong and stable, when internally I was scared and lonely. I was seen as involved in many activities and enthusiastic in front of others. I got a few post graduate degrees to cover up feeling stupid, hoping they would create a place of belonging.

I am now in my 60s and still seeking answers. One example of this double life journey is in the story of my education.

Elementary school was easy but friends were not consistent. I was bullied in 6th grade. When I went to Junior High I became involved in as many activities as possible. If I kept busy, I didn’t have to feel lonely and didn’t seem to get negative attention like before. Many groups meant many different people and teachers, which meant they were distracted from me and I was distracted from getting close to anyone. Homelife was erratic and difficult. My junior year of high school I felt I belonged, had some friends who had stayed with me over two years when suddenly, we moved from North Denver to South Denver. I kept hanging out with my friends up north, but that was hard with new drivers licenses and their school activities. My senior year I decided to become involved at the new school: cheerleader, president of DECA, in choir, lead roles in theater, and started art classes. My grades fluctuated based on what was going on at home, the secret I carried as I walked the halls with a smile. Got a best personality award the end of year, but I found out a handful of people voted for their friends so it was a handful. I protected myself from believing that it meant anything because the literalness of that small number was embarassing. As I walked on stage for the xeroxed certificate, I imagined everyone laughing at me for believing it but since I knew it was a ruse I beat them and didn’t care. The teacher deciding the speakers at graduation asked me to give the benediction, which still feels so symbolic. I had wanted to be a minister but the church I was raised in said I couldn’t because I was female and it was the end of one place of trying to belong; a prayer to lead me away. Two days later, I got in a car and left for the summer to avoid hurting from my family and the deep loneliness I felt, even with friends.

I chose to study art at a nearby University. I rarely have admitted this secret, but here it is: The school I chose was because I heard a crush I had in 10th grade was going there. I never saw him once I got there. I didn’t know any other way to choose. My family didn’t help, high school counselors didn’t help. I went for art but rarely went to class. I failed my freshman year of college, got kicked out of school. They never asked me what was going on back then, there was no curiosity about issues. Just pass or get kicked out. I felt so much shame but was numbing myself from feeling anything. Eventually, I went to five schools over nine years. I shined at the third school in Theater and Communications, started my career as an actress and succeeded in public speaking competitions. At the fourth school, University of Texas at San Antonio, I was popular on the campus, administration put me in leadership roles, and I was a leader and national award winner on the speech team. I fit in with creative circles.

I had another big secret. I couldn’t pass a math class and after having my daughter, alone, I moved to Dallas for a change of scenery and support from family friends. One more school for my last math retakes and I still couldn’t do math. I called UTSA and asked what my options were and a kind voice on the other end told me they would find out for me.

A few weeks later my transcripts and diploma arrived in the mail. Years later, when I decided to go into psychology, I was able to apply to a master’s program that didn’t expect statistics and didn’t need a math class from undergrad.

I now have an AA, a BA, two MAs (2002 and 2012), and a PhD (2016). I still have trouble believing I’m not stupid because of all those years of math shame. I also felt stupid because life felt hard, I struggled with reading and later I learned I was slightly dyslexic. Numbers and letters flip, but it took until 2004 to figure that out. I quietly struggled, never feeling I fit in during any of these programs. Other people were bright and cool, I was not.

During my doctoral program a neurology professor introduced me to Alexithymia, basically an inability to grab words for feelings but he never expounded on the additional possibilities that come with this kind of brain. March 2022, brought a creative opportunity with a long rabbit hole (very common for me for forever) and that curiosity finally led me to read that Alexithymia co-occurs with Autism and low proprioception. I had always walked into walls; in middle school I could hit the basket every time in my driveway but at school I was clumsy and untalented. It was because my brain got overstimulated on the school basketball court and when in sensory overload, my awareness of my body still disappears. Like many videos of AuDHDers and ADHDers, I walk into things. Every single day.

I was officially diagnosed Autistic on my 59th birthday in October of 2022 and recently got the ADHD addition. Not because it hasn’t been my entire life, but because of how I present. I didn’t suddenly catch it or have some environmental effect. The diagnosis answered decades of questions trauma psychology training and therapy never answered. Even the math. After my diagnosis I slowed down in moments of numbers and noticed them turn into a mist of smoke and disappear. My ADHD and longing to succeed and make people happy meant I never really knew what happened in my brain when I was struggling. I learned I had self medicated during my freshman year because society didn’t have support for unprocessed relational trauma from childhood or any support for incoming freshman and the transition from high school. It was a shock for me when my autism specialist therapist named that matter-of-factly and compassionately at the start of our work. I was self-medicating. I was in sensory overload. I was in autistic burnout. I was lost. Compassion for the way we see the world is central to understanding our journeys. Undiagnosed Autism and/or ADHD, or OCD, or all the neurodivergent ways we cope with these brains that don’t sense the world the ways dictated we should…needs deep compassion and care after not having that for so long.

I now have people referred to me for their late awareness of their neurodivergence from people who know me. Some, who were already working with me heard me share about my diagnosis, giving them the freedom to tell me they had been looking at theirs for years but were too afraid to bring up a self diagnosis. The line of thinking I follow now, because of how I understand me, is that self diagnosis is enough. No one else goes down rabbit holes seeking Autism or aligns with what Autistic people have to say about being Autistic. If we say we are, we are. We have the tendency to over study a curiosity, find all the information we can before we say anything about it. The culture has the stigma. We just want to understand what doesn’t fit in the social constructs we have cried to be part of. It isn’t a fad, it is an answer. We finally understand another entirely missed part of society and we are a variety—a spectrum- of difficulties, awkwardness, creativity, joys, passions, interests, areas of focus and so much more. So now I work with others, too. I spend a lot of time studying all the ways we are divergent and beautiful and hard and blessed and lonely.

I hope this story and more to come helps others the way that those who wrote about their journey, helped me. Let me know if I can support yours. I am working on the resources page to include books and sites that help me and my people.

With love, dani