RMX07
They/He
So, I’ve been lurking on these forums for the last couple of months, gathering as much information as I could before my initial appointment with my psychologist for an autism diagnosis. For all of the info you folks have provided me, I wanted to say a very big THANK YOU! It has been comforting to know there is an entire community of people just like myself whose experiences I could draw from.
This will be a long post, but I didn’t want to leave anything out in case my experiences resonate with—and are helpful for—others going through this journey, just like you folks have helped me. Feel free to read it, skim it, or skip it!
My story is a familiar one for many women and girls on the spectrum. I felt different all my life, felt I never fit in anywhere and never knew why. As a child, I was quiet, sensitive, and smart. I fluctuated between girly-girl and tomboy. I always had some intense special interests that I loved to be involved with by myself, had a couple close friendships in primary school, then a string of loneliness and rejection in high school that lead to me switching schools in 11th grade and deciding not to complete my schooling. I was diagnosed with depression as a teenager, and later attempted suicide. After I left school, I worked a few different jobs, studied for a couple of different vocations, and had a couple of teenage relationships that seemed important at the time but didn’t last. I was frustrated with the world, felt misunderstood, and—to the exasperation of my parents—spent a couple of years unemployed and engaged only with my special interests which were mostly roleplaying games, science fiction, and music at the time.
During my years with depression, I actually did some research on Asperger’s Syndrome, and was almost convinced this diagnosis fit me, except that in the early 2000s there wasn’t much evidence for how girls on the spectrum presented differently to boys, and the traits for boys with Asperger’s just weren’t quite the same as what I was experiencing. What I didn’t know then was that I was very, very good at masking my differences—so much so that no-one ever suspected I was struggling, and my quirks were chalked up to just being a little different and more individual than my peers.
At age 20, I met my NT life partner, and we have been together ever since. She accepted my differences, loved me for who I am, and I never felt I needed to prove anything or act differently to what was normal for me. My deficits are her strengths, so we work well together (e.g. I have no sense of direction and don’t drive, and she’s a walking, talking road map who drives everywhere).
At age 27, I decided to go to university part-time (while working part-time) to study literature, creating writing, and philosophy. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I absolutely loved uni (I did half of my units externally from home, which certainly helped) and I graduated in February of 2018 and received several awards and gave the valedictory speech. I was proud of my achievements, but it did prompt an old and familiar line of questioning: how could I be so smart and feel so stupid at the same time?
It wasn’t until recently, after ongoing issues with communication within our relationship, in combination with some changes to my role at work, that I was experiencing constant overloads and crippling anxiety which resulted in my need to seek professional help.
So I did. But not before doing a bunch of research on ASD once again. This time, it was a bit of a ‘penny drop’ moment because I uncovered all the research from the last 10 years about women and girls on the spectrum. Everything fit. Everything made sense. Reading about the lives of other women with ASD in books and online was like reading about my own life. I’ve heard it described like this by many others, to the point where it sounds a little cliché, but it absolutely happened this way for me, too. I read books by Liane Holliday Willey, Michelle Vines, Cynthia Kim, and Tony Attwood. I watched YouTube videos by Aspie women and read a bunch of forum and Reddit posts. I read psychology articles and research studies. What sealed the deal for me were probably the lists of traits for women and girls with Asperger’s, written by Rudy Simone, Tania Marshall, and Tony Attwood.
When I mentioned ASD to my first psychologist (with whom I’d made an appointment to deal with my anxiety), she was mostly dismissive, clearly knowing very little about the condition, and uncomfortable with exploring that route with me. While I hadn’t expected her to be an expert on autism (I’d read her credentials), I guess I did expect her to know at least something about it—otherwise, she, too, would be participating in the series of misdiagnoses for women on the spectrum.
I never went back to see her, though I did leave some research with her (I’d come prepared and printed off a bunch of info before my appointment) so I hope she at least learned something from her encounter with me.
It was my partner who discovered a nearby clinical psychologist specialising in autism diagnoses for adults. I made an appointment right away and only had to wait a couple of weeks. It was a pre-assessment appointment so we could talk about why I was seeking a diagnosis and what to expect. Of course, I’d again come prepared with my printed info, and she was especially interested in the document I’d written about the traits I identified as ASD traits in myself. She was excited about all the information I had provided, and joked that I’d done her job for her. Most of the answers to her questions were there, but we had a long and detailed discussion about all aspects of my life. I mentioned that what I wanted most from this initial session is for a professional to tell me that I’m not crazy, that my struggles are indeed caused by ASD as I’d suspected, and I cannot begin to express how validating it felt when she told me—yes, short of an official diagnosis, it is almost a certainty that I have ASD level 1.
I don’t quite know how I felt in that moment of validation. What I do know is that I sat there in silence just processing it all.
She told me that, for now, it’s probably not necessary for the AU$2000+ expense to pursue an official diagnosis since having that piece of paper is mostly to allow the help and support for those who need it (i.e. those with more severe issues than my own). But it is an option for me at any time, and I’m seriously considering it because I feel like I need some closure and peace of mind. In the mean time, she will be putting my informal diagnosis in writing on my medical records so it’s there for appointments with my GP and any other medical stuff I need to deal with. This will be invaluable during appointments and procedures with medical professionals to explain to them why I experience intense anxiety and sometimes go into meltdown-mode.
So that’s where I am right now. Already, knowing the ways my brain works differently has helped tremendously with my relationship with my partner. The next thing to tackle is my anxiety at work, and I will be having future therapy sessions with the same psychologist to go through some coping strategies for that.
One step at a time, as they say!
This will be a long post, but I didn’t want to leave anything out in case my experiences resonate with—and are helpful for—others going through this journey, just like you folks have helped me. Feel free to read it, skim it, or skip it!
My story is a familiar one for many women and girls on the spectrum. I felt different all my life, felt I never fit in anywhere and never knew why. As a child, I was quiet, sensitive, and smart. I fluctuated between girly-girl and tomboy. I always had some intense special interests that I loved to be involved with by myself, had a couple close friendships in primary school, then a string of loneliness and rejection in high school that lead to me switching schools in 11th grade and deciding not to complete my schooling. I was diagnosed with depression as a teenager, and later attempted suicide. After I left school, I worked a few different jobs, studied for a couple of different vocations, and had a couple of teenage relationships that seemed important at the time but didn’t last. I was frustrated with the world, felt misunderstood, and—to the exasperation of my parents—spent a couple of years unemployed and engaged only with my special interests which were mostly roleplaying games, science fiction, and music at the time.
During my years with depression, I actually did some research on Asperger’s Syndrome, and was almost convinced this diagnosis fit me, except that in the early 2000s there wasn’t much evidence for how girls on the spectrum presented differently to boys, and the traits for boys with Asperger’s just weren’t quite the same as what I was experiencing. What I didn’t know then was that I was very, very good at masking my differences—so much so that no-one ever suspected I was struggling, and my quirks were chalked up to just being a little different and more individual than my peers.
At age 20, I met my NT life partner, and we have been together ever since. She accepted my differences, loved me for who I am, and I never felt I needed to prove anything or act differently to what was normal for me. My deficits are her strengths, so we work well together (e.g. I have no sense of direction and don’t drive, and she’s a walking, talking road map who drives everywhere).
At age 27, I decided to go to university part-time (while working part-time) to study literature, creating writing, and philosophy. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I absolutely loved uni (I did half of my units externally from home, which certainly helped) and I graduated in February of 2018 and received several awards and gave the valedictory speech. I was proud of my achievements, but it did prompt an old and familiar line of questioning: how could I be so smart and feel so stupid at the same time?
It wasn’t until recently, after ongoing issues with communication within our relationship, in combination with some changes to my role at work, that I was experiencing constant overloads and crippling anxiety which resulted in my need to seek professional help.
So I did. But not before doing a bunch of research on ASD once again. This time, it was a bit of a ‘penny drop’ moment because I uncovered all the research from the last 10 years about women and girls on the spectrum. Everything fit. Everything made sense. Reading about the lives of other women with ASD in books and online was like reading about my own life. I’ve heard it described like this by many others, to the point where it sounds a little cliché, but it absolutely happened this way for me, too. I read books by Liane Holliday Willey, Michelle Vines, Cynthia Kim, and Tony Attwood. I watched YouTube videos by Aspie women and read a bunch of forum and Reddit posts. I read psychology articles and research studies. What sealed the deal for me were probably the lists of traits for women and girls with Asperger’s, written by Rudy Simone, Tania Marshall, and Tony Attwood.
When I mentioned ASD to my first psychologist (with whom I’d made an appointment to deal with my anxiety), she was mostly dismissive, clearly knowing very little about the condition, and uncomfortable with exploring that route with me. While I hadn’t expected her to be an expert on autism (I’d read her credentials), I guess I did expect her to know at least something about it—otherwise, she, too, would be participating in the series of misdiagnoses for women on the spectrum.
I never went back to see her, though I did leave some research with her (I’d come prepared and printed off a bunch of info before my appointment) so I hope she at least learned something from her encounter with me.
It was my partner who discovered a nearby clinical psychologist specialising in autism diagnoses for adults. I made an appointment right away and only had to wait a couple of weeks. It was a pre-assessment appointment so we could talk about why I was seeking a diagnosis and what to expect. Of course, I’d again come prepared with my printed info, and she was especially interested in the document I’d written about the traits I identified as ASD traits in myself. She was excited about all the information I had provided, and joked that I’d done her job for her. Most of the answers to her questions were there, but we had a long and detailed discussion about all aspects of my life. I mentioned that what I wanted most from this initial session is for a professional to tell me that I’m not crazy, that my struggles are indeed caused by ASD as I’d suspected, and I cannot begin to express how validating it felt when she told me—yes, short of an official diagnosis, it is almost a certainty that I have ASD level 1.
I don’t quite know how I felt in that moment of validation. What I do know is that I sat there in silence just processing it all.
She told me that, for now, it’s probably not necessary for the AU$2000+ expense to pursue an official diagnosis since having that piece of paper is mostly to allow the help and support for those who need it (i.e. those with more severe issues than my own). But it is an option for me at any time, and I’m seriously considering it because I feel like I need some closure and peace of mind. In the mean time, she will be putting my informal diagnosis in writing on my medical records so it’s there for appointments with my GP and any other medical stuff I need to deal with. This will be invaluable during appointments and procedures with medical professionals to explain to them why I experience intense anxiety and sometimes go into meltdown-mode.
So that’s where I am right now. Already, knowing the ways my brain works differently has helped tremendously with my relationship with my partner. The next thing to tackle is my anxiety at work, and I will be having future therapy sessions with the same psychologist to go through some coping strategies for that.
One step at a time, as they say!
