Summary

The website content describes the emotional journey of an individual grappling with the late diagnosis of autism, characterized by a difficult period of self-discovery, acceptance, and the challenging phases of burnout and shutdowns before reaching a point of self-compassion and the possibility of a new beginning.

Abstract

The text delves into the personal turmoil experienced by an individual who receives a late diagnosis of autism. It portrays the diagnosis as a double-edged sword that brings both relief from a lifetime of misunderstanding and an initial sense of denial and self-stigmatization. The narrative unfolds through the stages of emotional upheaval, including overwhelming panic and neuro-zombie shutdowns, leading to a profound moment of solitude where self-reflection and the consideration of the diagnosis's validity occur. This introspection paves the way for self-empathy, rest, and the validation of one's own experiences. The process culminates in the individual allowing themselves to envision a different path, a new version of themselves, and the beginning of a journey towards self-acceptance and grace.

Opinions

The author conveys that late-diagnosed autism should come with a warning about the challenging journey ahead, implying that the road to self-acceptance is fraught with emotional distress.
There is a strong sentiment of initial disbelief and defensive reflex against the diagnosis, indicative of internalized ableism and societal stigma surrounding autism.
The text suggests that the diagnosis leads to a re-examination of past experiences through the lens of neurodivergence, which can be both enlightening and emotionally taxing.
The author emphasizes the exhaustive nature of autistic burnout and the debilitating impact of constant brain chatter, leading to a state of shutdown or emotional numbness.
A pivotal moment of grace is described, where the individual begins to acknowledge the diagnosis and offer themselves compassion and validation, marking a significant turning point in their journey.
The narrative concludes with an optimistic perspective, highlighting the potential for personal growth, transformation, and the emergence of a new self-identity post-diagnosis.

Late-diagnosed autism should come with a warning label —

WARNING: It will get worse before it gets better.

What I am referring to, is the trepidatious path to self-acceptance and finding who you are, and always were, after diagnosis.

The glorious mid-life autistic burnout that sets you into a fiery blaze of ‘incapable of handling or doing life whatsoever’, any longer, and the revolving and inescapable cycle between overwhelming panic meltdowns and neuro-zombie shutdowns that drown you in a pool of helpless feelings of defeat day in and day out.

The incredibly validating collapse of a lifetime of relief and exhaustion when you are finally seen, finally heard. When that someone, feels you — and your masked pleas. Carefully navigating through the disorganized storyline of your neurotypical veil and delivering the ultimate ‘crazy’ diagnosis you have sworn would come — but have been strategically avoiding your entire life.

That explicit moment of diagnosis, still replaying like a pestering movie reel in your mind…and the befuddlement and knee-jerk defensive reflex to such an absurd and down-right outlandish diagnosis. The self-ableist making its most memorable, Oscar-worthy, public performance, fighting for control in a stop-at-nothing, grand finale of crazy.

That next explicit moment…when you’re alone.

When you have cried. Wept, really.

When you have revisited hours upon hours-worth of cerebral memories of yester-year, through a deniable yet curious lens of this so-called neurodivergence.

When you have shamed and punished yourself, yet again, for each and every single memory and recounted misunderstanding. Each personality trait...each symptom...each moment of truth.

That moment…the cliché rock bottom, the numb, the shutdown — when the disorganized dialogue of overwhelmed brain-chatter, playing like an itchy and uncomfortable elevator tune, commands an entitled smoke-break, and you’re left with nothing but empty.

That one, inevitable moment, trapped in a dichotomy of ineffectual cerebral existence, when you allow yourself to consider the completely absurd diagnosis as potentially valid, vs. inexplicable.

You know…just ‘because’…

The moment…

Tucked away and hidden from the world…

When you offer yourself a fantastical, brief moment of grace.

Allow yourself a crumb of self-empathy.

Allow yourself a moment of silence, of rest.

Allow yourself that split-second of inconceivable validation.

Allow yourself the idea of another way, another answer.

Another path.

Another opportunity.

Another you.

The moment of shame.

The moment of accountability.

The moment of admittance.

The moment of surrender.

The moment of grace.

The moment you reach out for that inner-child’s hand.

The moment you weep into a succumbing midnight slumber of authentic truth and undeniable autistic shutdown, only to wake to a new day of -‘rinse, and repeat — for 6 to 12 months’.