Finding out that you’re neurodivergent after years of feeling different and struggling to fit in can be a life-changing experience. As a late-diagnosed woman, the realization of my ADHD and autism came later in life, when the demands of adulthood, motherhood, and the pandemic made it increasingly challenging to maintain the mask I had worn for so long. However, seeking answers and a diagnosis presented unique challenges of their own, as ADHD and autism are often under diagnosed or misdiagnosed in women, especially those who do not fit the stereotypical presentation outlined in the DSM-5.
A Journey of Self-Discovery-
I was the kid who always got good grades, but I was also the kid who never really felt like I belonged. I didn’t start questioning my differences until I was an adult. It was a gradual process, with moments of reflection and realization.
As a woman, I learned to mask my neurodivergent traits. Society expects women to conform and fit into certain molds, so I learned to camouflage my struggles and adapt to social norms to avoid standing out. This was exhausting, as I had to suppress my true self and navigate the world through a carefully constructed facade.
In my opinion, the diagnostic process is biased against women. Research and diagnostic criteria have been heavily influenced by male presentations, so if we’re going to be honest here, there’s not enough understanding of how neurodivergence manifests in women. This, combined with racial disparities, creates additional hurdles for women of color.
In fact, during my first intake appointment with the psychologist who would go on to give me my diagnoses for ADHD, OCD, and GAD (gotta love all of the acronyms), I recall sitting there nervously excited about the possibility of finally getting some much-needed answers. Instead, what I got was (although helpful) not really full of much hope. I do appreciate the honesty though. She was very open with me and told me that due to my age (I was 39 at the time), race, and the fact that I have most likely been masking the majority of my life, the chances of me getting an accurate diagnosis, especially for autism, was small. She also tried to be somewhat reassuring and made the statement that maybe one day the diagnostic criteria will catch up to what they are just now learning about what ADHD and autism look like in women who look like me.
But, let’s backtrack for a second. Seeking a diagnosis was a daunting and frustrating journey. Many healthcare professionals don’t understand the unique challenges faced by late-diagnosed women, so they’re dismissive and make it difficult to get appropriate evaluations. I can’t tell you how many times my concerns were brushed aside, labeled as “mommy brain,” dismissed as quirkiness, or attributed to getting older.
The turning point came when my two children received their diagnoses. Watching them go through the process and recognizing so many similar traits in myself made me realize that both my husband and I might be neurodivergent too. That realization fueled my desire to dig deeper, seek answers, and understand my own journey of why I have always felt the way I do and experienced life the way I have. Challenges or no challenges, I persisted in my search for both answers and support. I was tired of allowing my experiences to be invalidated.
While obtaining a formal diagnosis was challenging, the awareness and self-acceptance I gained along the way were invaluable. The psychologist was right. Despite having some autistic traits, she said that she was unable to give me a formal autism diagnosis per the DSM-5. My experience as an older, masking, black woman did not fit the mold. I am just not a textbook example of what autism or ADHD looks like.
As I stated above, I did walk away with an ADHD diagnosis, among other things. So, I did at least feel partly validated. However, continuing to research and understand my own neurodivergence allowed me to embrace my authentic self and find a sense of identity. Connecting with supportive communities and resources tailored to neurodivergent women with similar stories has been both empowering and validating, and has guided me on this newfound path.
I feel it is sooooo important to shed light on the underdiagnosis and misdiagnosis of neurodivergence in women. By sharing our personal stories, raising awareness, and advocating for inclusive diagnostic criteria, we can challenge the existing narrative and foster a more comprehensive understanding of what it really looks like to be neurodivergent.